The Keening Blade

(Spoilers for The Stolen Throne below)

Chapter 7: Persuasion and Equivocation

Eerie and lowering, the clouds scudded overhead, as the Lady of the Lake sailed south to Redcliffe.

Perhaps any weather would have seemed ominous to Loghain at this point. They were going to Redcliffe, about which he had a very bad feeling. He was not a superstitious man, and had no belief in omens and very little in destiny, but he still had a bad, bad feeling about it all.

Not so the girl, who was happily at the wheel of the ship, wind in her hair, looking very much the picture of the dauntless, high-spirited adventurer. The skipper had told her what to do, and she was doing it. It was one of those things, he supposed, that he should trust that she could do, because she said she could do it.

The wind puffed their sails just so; the hull cut through the water, leaving a white wake behind. They were making good time to Redcliffe; and their little fellowship was lounging on board, content to rest, to eat and drink, to chat, to clean and sharpen weapons. Wynne was mending some linen, her mouth pursed as she stitched neatly and efficiently. She glanced up at him and her needle pierced the linen in her hands with an eloquent little stab.

Zevran and Leliana were pointing excitedly at a large and silvery school of fish, just under the water near the bow. Loghain hoped neither of them would fall over the rail and drown, but if they did, it would not be he who saved them. He was feeling remarkably comfortable just where he was. Ranger agreed, sprawling doggily next to him, head on Loghain's knee.

Pointless to post a guard. One could sleep on the deck, for here was the one place in all Thedas perfectly safe from the darkspawn. In all the stories, Loghain had never heard of darkspawn swimming. He nearly chuckled at the picture that made. Cailan had known nothing of such a thing, and Cailan had made himself an expert, as far as an outsider who had not downed a goblet of darkspawn blood could be an expert, in all matters pertaining to the Grey Wardens. Loghain idly wondered where Cailan's books were. Perhaps he should find them and read them…

That was the irony to end all ironies. He now wished he had listened more closely to Cailan when he was yammering on and on and on about the bloody boring Grey Wardens.

He should ask Avernus, and looked around for the old man. The mage was sitting on a cask, predictably speaking quietly with Morrigan.

"Avernus!" Loghain called out. "Do darkspawn swim?"

The mage looked amused, and then knit his brows in thought.

"Not possible," Avernus pronounced. "That was actually tested by a Tevinter mage during the Second Blight. They sank like stones. Or bones. What have you."

"So glad!" said Maude brightly. "Wouldn't that be horrid—a pack of genlocks paddling toward us with their daggers between their teeth like darkspawn pirates?" She smiled radiantly, and repeated, with high glee, "Darkspawn pirates! Imagine!"

The heads of the ship's crew all swiveled toward her as one, eyes glazed with terror.

Loghain raised his voice. "She was just saying that there are no darkspawn pirates! I repeat: no darkspawn pirates! We have just determined that it is impossible," he reassured the crew. "It has been proven that darkspawn cannot swim."

Trembling, the men returned to their duties.

Maude was still grinning. "Arrrgh!"

"Don't terrorize the sailors, Maude," Loghain growled. "They'll jump over the side, and then where will we be?"

"In my power," Maude said, with great satisfaction.

"Exactly," he muttered.

"Teyrn Loghain?" Leliana was approaching, bright-eyed and bright-haired, and sank down beside him gracefully, crossing her legs.

"Just Loghain," he corrected her.

"Oh, of course. I beg your pardon, It is just—" she dimpled at him. "You must have great stories of King Maric…"

"You want a new insight into the ones they tell in Orlais?" he asked, lifting a brow at her.

"You think they do not admire King Maric in Orlais? They do, of course: there is nothing like a dashing rebel prince to fire the imagination."

"Even if he rebels against you?"

"Of course! It makes him roguish—much more romantic."

Dashing? Roguish? Romantic? Loghain frowned. The boy he remembered meeting had been none of those things. He had been dirty, frightened, and bewildered that day. His mother, the Rebel Queen, had been murdered in front of him. He had stumbled into the outlaw camp commanded by Loghain's father Gareth, and told stupid lies. He drew the Orlesians down on them, and Gareth had been killed protecting Maric's escape. How Loghain had hated him then. He had hated him for some time until Maric had forced his friendship upon him.

He glanced over at Leliana, waiting eagerly. "You like stories about Maric?"

"Oh, very much! I love the one in which he fought off dozens of chevaliers with only a handful of men! They were on a hilltop, and there was Prince Maric, wearing his mother's purple cloak…"

Loghain stared at her in disbelief. He could let the bard think her pretty thoughts, but—why should he? "That was me," he said flatly.

She stared back, confused. Loghain could see Maude listening. He raised his voice.

"Sorry to disabuse you, but that was me, in the purple cloak, on the hilltop, fighting the bloody mob of chevaliers. I wore a helmet to hide my hair, and the Queen's purple cloak, and I created a diversion so Maric could escape. The old Arl of Redcliffe was commanding the rebel forces then, and he left me to die—an heroic sacrifice for King and Country."

"But you didn't die," Maude said, seemingly very proud of him.

"No—his daughter Rowan—"

"Maric's future Queen—" Leliana breathed.

Loghain grimaced. "Rowan disobeyed orders and rode to my rescue and saved my worthless hide. The Queen's cloak was completely ruined. Maric learned to be dashing and roguish and romantic after he was king. He got to be quite good at it, too-or so the ladies tell me."

The bard was still staring at him, not exactly disappointed, but clearly needing to adjust her opinions. Loghain felt very contrary, and had more to say.

"You want a story about King Maric? Here's one: 'One day, King Maric was bored with ruling Ferelden, as he so often was. He decided it would be a good idea to take a long sea voyage. The ship sank and he was drowned. He left a kingdom and a young son to care for themselves as they could. And that was the end of dashing, roguish, romantic King Maric.'"

"You are still angry with him for dying," Leliana observed gravely.

"I suppose I am. If he were here, everything would be different."

Maude was thinking it over. "We have no way of knowing it would be better. I can think of all sorts of ways it might be worse, in fact. Anyway, nothing's going to happen to this ship. I won't allow it."

He gestured brusquely at her. "Then keep your eyes on the water!"

She laughed, sweet and merry. "So I shall! This is so much fun. The ship feels alive under my hands. Do you want to take a turn, Loghain? It's nice."

"I'd rather loaf in the sun and let someone else do the work," he snorted. "It has the charm of novelty."

He lay back and dozed, very pleasantly. Here, far from the bones of the earth, he seemed to have lost his connection with the darkspawn. Loghain slept, and his dreams were benign and unremarkable. Except for that one with the girl, dressed—no—undressed like an Antivan dancer, complete with those anklets with the little silver bells…

"Too much smoke," Loghain said, studying the Redcliffe docks from the safety of the Lady of the Lake.

The girl agreed. "And no one on the docks. This time of day there should at least be fishermen there."

The companions stood at the rail, considering the sight before them.

"Perhaps," Morrigan said, voicing something others did not wish to say, "the darkspawn have already come and gone."

Sten shook he head, his mouth drawn down in concentration. "The castle is not in flames. It appears intact. The village has been sacked, perhaps."

"—or the bastards are there, sacking while we stand here jawing," Oghren interrupted. "Boss, have that boat commander or captain or whatever you call him move this sodding water wagon over there so we can get the Stone off of it!"

The journey by water had been distressing for the dwarf. To have no reliable stone over his head had been a great adjustment for him already. To have nothing more than a flimsy wooden skin separating him from deep water was in every way horrible. He grunted, "I'd face the Archdemon gladly, just to set my boots on solid ground! Let's just go and kill everything between us and the castle and be done with it!"

"For myself," Zevran shrugged, "I have enjoyed our little pleasure cruise. A delightful interlude. But the darkspawn await, and I suspect they await us—" he pointed at the silent, smoking village, "—right there."

It took every bit of the girl's legendary charm to persuade the skipper to approach the harbor. The terrified fellow was sweating and muttering curses as Maude stood beside him, murmuring encouragement. The rest of the five man crew was shaky and near panic, as they drew nearer to shore, and it became more and more apparent that Redcliffe was under attack.

"Just a little closer," Maude coaxed them. "As soon as we're up to the dock, put a gang plank out. We'll be off the ship in a flash, and you can put out again right away."

"My dear child," Avernus said gently. "Why don't you let me handle them? I can just give them a nudge—"

The captain's eyes widened with fear. Maude saw it and shook her head.

"Thank you so much, Avernus, but I'm sure it's not necessary," the girl said, speaking softly and soothingly, in her sweet, insinuating tones. "I know we can come to an understanding. The captain is just going to edge up to the dock, and throw over a gangplank. We won't take a moment to get off his ship, and then he can get clean away. Doesn't that sound reasonable?"

Her voice throbbed with persuasion. The sailor's heads bobbed up and down. Like puppets, Loghain thought, his teeth on edge. He hated to hear the girl talking like this, but it was certainly effective on the weak-minded. Avernus was eyeing her with real interest.

He and Sten and the old mage stood behind her, glaring at the terrified sailors, fingering their weapons in silent menace. With one thing and another, their point was gained, and there was time for a hasty mouthful of food to sustain them before they stepped onto the docks of Redcliffe, into yet another fine mess.

The village was burning, but slowly. The first ogre materialized as they rounded a corner.

Green haze spat toward them, catching Leliana, who yelped. Morrigan froze the ogre, and Loghain and Maude and Ranger rushed toward it, ready to hack at the creature.

"Sten! Oghren!" the girl shouted, "Get that emissary!"

From long practice, the group split into well-defined teams, each hunting down the darkspawn roaming the village square. It was the largest party of darkspawn Loghain had faced in months, and it was a powerful one, for there was another ogre rushing at them, head down to smash them. It froze, struck by Wynne's magic. Leliana and Zevran threw themselves on it with murderous abandon.

Their own ogre was flagging, kicking out desperately with a massive foot. Loghain was startled and impressed as the girl actually vaulted up onto the huge leg, swung up over its back, and stabbed down into the arteries where the neck joined the shoulder. The creature groped blindly at her, gouts of blood pumping from the wound, showering the girl with red rain.

She jumped lightly from the dead body as it crashed to the ground, instantly running to face the other ogre. Loghain was beside her, rather stirred by the fight. Sometimes he forgot that the girl was not just a pretty face and a beguiling voice.

"This is disgusting," she told him, dancing past the second ogre as it fell. "I'm going to have to jump in the lake, armor and all!"

"I think I'm going to have jump in with you," he grunted, Darkspawn entrails decorated his greaves. Rather full and squashy entrails. The smell was unbelievable. He kicked them away, grimacing.

The creatures lay dead around them. Avernus had done something to the other end of the square that had engulfed the darkspawn in a fury of lightning. These darkspawn smelled as if they had been roasted from the inside out. Without first having been properly gutted.

"Maybe ice is a better spell choice," Maude said to Loghain. "It doesn't smell as bad, anyway. Speaking of which, I really have to rinse off, unless one of you mighty mages knows a spell to clean off blood and guts."

"Magic is not to be used for such friv—" Wynne began. She was silenced by the sight of Avernus pointing his staff at Maude. A powerful jet of water burst from the end. Once she was rinsed, he turned his attention to Loghain, and then Leliana and Zevran.

Sten stepped up for his turn. "A showerbath!" he observed. "I have not seen such a thing since I left Seheron. Most civilized, even though produced by a mage."

Maude hustled Ranger, and finally Oghren into the range of the staff/hose. "This is wonderful!" she enthused. "How clever you are, Avernus! Morrigan, you really ought to learn this!"

"Except that now we're sodding wet," complained Oghren.

"Yes," Maude declared, "But we smell much better. Let's search the village."

By twos, the companions explored the village for any more of them lying in wait. Leliana and Maude relieved the darkspawn corpses of their valuables. The door to the Chantry was barred, and no one responded to their calls and pounding.

"We might as well go up to the castle," Loghain decided. "If they don't want to come out, it's not worth our time to hunt them down."

They hiked up the steep hill, first to the tavern, which stood open and empty. Oghren's suggestion that they check out the cellars was vetoed, and he was dragged along the twisting uphill path to the castle road.

And there they saw their first survivor.

"You!" Loghain shouted. "Stop!"

The man froze in place at the sound of Loghain's voice raised in command. When questioned, it transpired that he was a villager who had nearly been caught by the darkspawn when he returned for some valuables. Loghain sneered at him, wondering if he had been looking for his own valuables, or those of others. The man, for some reason, seemed eager to get away from them. Perhaps it was the diluted blood dripping from the dwarf's beard.

"Yes—they've reached the castle, I know. I just—"

"Well, we cleared out the village quite thoroughly," Loghain told him. "You can hide there or you can follow us to the castle."

"I'm sure we can spare you a weapon," Maude added, with an encouraging smile.

The man fled. Loghain snorted with contempt. Throughout this crisis, the average Fereldan had not made a very impressive showing. When he thought about it, though, he remembered that had been true during the rebellion as well.

Before them lay the way to the castle, and a courtyard filled with darkspawn. But after all, darkspawn were hardly a match for their fellowship. They charged.

"This can't be the horde!" Loghain shouted, as his sword separated a darkspawn's head from its torso. "This isn't more than a large warband!"

Maude shrugged and tore through another hurlock. "Maybe we're just awesome! Yes!" she exulted, doing a little victory dance on its ribcage. "We are the awesome darkspawn slayers. See us, Ferelden, and tremble!" Ranger barked his approval, leaping for another scraggy throat.

The ground shook with earthquake and storm spells, and the foe laid down and died with pathetic speed. Another ogre charged and was dispatched like a rat in a larder. Loghain admitted that they were good. Crazy and light-fingered and rude, but by the Maker! They could kill darkspawn!

So, while he hated Redcliffe Castle and all the living members of the Guerrin family, and thought their entire journey to this place was a monumental waste of time, Loghain was feeling rather good about himself and his companions by the time the timorous guards thanked the Maker for their presence, and led them to the Great Hall. The girl murmured to Avernus, briefing him on the people they were about to meet.

Anora was there, looking well, and appearing relieved to see him alive. That was something. Everything else was thoroughly revolting.

Those two pompous asses, the Guerrin brothers, stood on the dais at the end of the hall, lording it over everyone else. At least Anora was beside them. Alistair, however was not, which puzzled him briefly, until his attention was riveted by the Orlesian Warden, Riordan, who had the unmitigated gall-or typical Orlesian arrogance- to greet them as if he were lord of the manor.

"I am glad to see you alive," he said to the girl. "And you too, Loghain. And-another brother?" he said, puzzling over Avernus.

"This is Warden Avernus," Maude introduced him. "From the north," was her vague accounting of his origin. "He's come to assist us."

Avernus gave the queen an old-fashioned bow. "At your service, Your Majesty- my lords." He acknowledged Riordan with a nod. "Riordan of Jader, I presume."

"You are very welcome." Riordan looked bewildered. Clearly he had never met such an old Warden before in his life. Dismissing it as irrelevant for the moment, he said, "I am afraid I have grave news. The force that attacked Redcliffe is not the main body of the horde. That, alas, is headed toward Denerim."

Loghain tried to channel his burning, raging exasperation in some way that did not involve drawing his sword. The girl glanced up at him sideways, and caught his eye. He glared back her, "I told you so," all but engraved on his face.

Maude asked, "Has Denerim been warned?"

"Word has been sent," Eamon told her, "but it will take us two days to reach the capital."

Anora asked, "When will the army be ready to march?"

After some posturing, it was made clear that the army-or armies, actually-must march at dawn, ready or not. There was time for a meal and a night's sleep, and then they would be off again, continuing their entirely unnecessary tour of Ferelden.

Riordan said, "Before you retire for the night, we have Warden business to discuss. Meet me in my chamber where we can speak privately."

Loghain turned away without acknowledging him. At least the Orlesian fraud hadn't instructed the girl to come alone, because Loghain simply wasn't having that.

They were shown to their rooms, and then were conducted to the dining hall, which was filled with various nobles. Ranger sniffed the air and paused, and then dashed down the corridor to the kennels, barking.

"Where's Ranger going ?" Loghain asked, surprised to see the dog leave the girl's side.

"In pursuit of romance, I would imagine," she smirked. "They must have restocked the kennels. I may not see him until tomorrow."

She then grabbed Loghain by the hand and led him to meet the leaders of the dwarves and the Dalish.

They certainly had a high opinion of the girl, who conducted herself with remarkable propriety. They were friendly enough to Loghain, caring only that he was a Warden and in this girl's company.

"This is Kardol, the commander of the Legion of the Dead," Maude said. "Once again, Kardol, my thanks for coming up to the surface to show us your skills! And this is Keeper Lanaya."

A pretty young elf woman, tattooed in the Dalish style, greeted Loghain respectfully. "We owe so much to the Grey Wardens," she told him, "Any of your order will always be welcome at our camp fire."

He nodded to her, trying not to be too obvious as he looked down the front of her robe. She had quite lovely legs, as well. He had never been a man to pursue elves. Much of that, he had always felt, was done by men who needed to bolster their own feelings of inadequacy by looming over someone small and weak. Keeper Lanaya certainly did not really look weak, but he towered over her. Besides, he had seen Maude's legs on a number of occasions, and they were possibly the nicest he had ever admired. He dismissed the lovely Lanaya from his mind.

Tactfully, Maude left him at the table with Avernus, Morrigan. and Leliana before she went to speak to the First Enchanter. That fellow, too, seemed to think well of the girl. She was smiling and talking, and a model of perfect decorum. It was so unlike her that he felt he must comment on it when she came back to sit with her company and devour an entire chicken.

"You're certainly on your best behavior tonight," he said. "Very grand. Very aristocratic."

"Surprised, Loghain? How is that possible? You knew my mother, so you know what kinds of lessons I had when I was growing up. If I concentrate, and try very hard, I won't do anything particularly bizarre, as long as the evening doesn't go on too long. It's not like being in camp when it's just us, is it? One doesn't know whom to trust outside our own company. Teagan is all right, but I'm still put out with Eamon, and I don't trust him any farther than I can throw him. I certainly don't want to give him any weapons against me. I'm hoping to settle things with Alistair while we're here, if he ever comes down to dinner."

Loghain grimaced. "You're well rid of him, as far as I can see."

"Yes, yes, yes. I know you don't like him. Somehow I had already gathered that. I, on the other hand, am very fond of Alistair. I don't like him being angry with me. First of all, he's going to be King, and being at odds with the King is very imprudent. And second, I think of him as a brother." She smiled at him whimsically. "My little brother."

"Little brother? He's older than you!"

"Only in years. Besides I already have an older brother: Fergus. I don't intend to replace him. Fergus will always be my older brother, whom I love. Alistair is my little brother, and it's my duty to get on with him. As soon as he dares to come down and face me, I'll find a way to make peace." She looked away, and assumed an charming, artificial smile.

"Oh, look! Here's Teagan, coming to flirt, I daresay. Excuse me while I go do the polite."

She reluctantly set her plate aside, and stood up. Before Loghain could turn to say something to Avernus, he heard a soft, Orlesian voice in his ear.

"My lord, come with me. My mistress wishes to speak to you."

Loghain glanced up see Erlina, Anora's elven maid. He was surprised to see that everyone but Avernus at the Warden's table knew her, and more surprised to see that all who knew her were glaring.

Sweet-natured Leliana was glaring as darkly as any of the rest. "Be careful about going anywhere with her, Loghain. Before you know it you'll find yourself in Fort Drakon!"

Erlina shrank back, and stood aside to let Loghain proceed. The companions stared after them, their narrowed eyes fixed on the maid.

Through a door, and then into the expected company of the one he loved most in the world.

"Father..."

She looked so anxious and hesitant that he immediately took her in his arms and kissed her brow. Perhaps she thought he would be angry with her, that he would rail at her and blame her for everything. There were little lines at the corners of her eyes and across her forehead that he had not seen before. She, poor girl, had had as hard a year as anyone else.

"Father, I am so happy to see you! I feared...I didn't know what would happen. Everything is upside down, and I have no idea what to expect. Are you well? You look...different," she said in confusion. "Almost...younger."

It had not occurred to him that Avernus' potion might alter his appearance. He was so pleased to be rid of the aches and the creakings and the fatigue that he had not considered other ramifications. It was certainly nothing he wished to discuss with Anora.

"I'm well: very well, in fact. Perhaps it's being out in the field, and having a clear objective that's done it. I've found out all sorts of useful things from the Wardens, and I'm more hopeful than I've ever been about the ultimate outcome of this crisis."

"You're not just saying that?" She regarded him thoughtfully. "You're not just protecting me? Please don't do that, Father. I need to know what is really going on."

"It's true. Becoming a Warden is possibly the best thing that's happened to me in a long, long time."

Her eyes brightened for moment, still wary, of course, for she was Anora, after all; but hopeful, all the same.

Casually she asked, "And how are you getting on with her—with Maude Cousland?"

Well, that was the great question, wasn't it? Loghain tried to put the past weeks into words.

"She's not what I expected. We're getting on well together—extremely well. Her companions are certainly a motley crew, but the girl herself is devoted to Ferelden and has behaved with great generosity."

Anora was still eyeing him carefully, clearly looking for something. Loghain decided he could not let himself worry about it. After a moment, his daughter said, "I'm so glad—so relieved, Father. I found her charming and very perceptive and direct. Once we had the chance to sit down together and talk, I felt certain that she was someone I could work with. And she kept her word about everything."

Loghain smiled ruefully, picturing those two young women at their plotting. They had certainly been too much for him. "Yes, she told me about your bargain. Now you tell me: how is Alistair treating you?"

She smiled. "He's such a child in some ways. I can't say that Maude didn't warn me. Still, his heart is in the right place, and that counts for a great deal. I'll learn to live with the silly jokes in time, I'm sure." She bit her lip, and asked, "The Warden...has she said anything about me? Is she...angry with me?"

He frowned, thinking through all the girl's references to Anora. "I hardly think so. She always speaks of you with great respect. Why do you ask? Did you quarrel with her about something?"

"Not exactly," Anora sighed. "If you must know, I was not completely honest with her when I asked her to come and 'rescue' me from Howe's estate. It was a ruse on my part to see what she what she would do. Also, I knew by sending her after the man that only one would emerge from the dungeon alive. It was a way to get rid of at least one of the thorns in your side. She's very clever, Father, and she saw right through me. She wasn't pleased about having to stand down and go to Fort Drakon to keep me safe, especially since she felt I'd been playing games with her. She was quite pleasant about it afterward, but warned me not to try anything of the sort again. So you don't think she bears me any ill will?"

"No," Loghain considered. "I don't think she does. She's very pragmatic, and is fairly quick with a trick or a scheme herself. She-"

The tramp of marching feet came down the stairs and passed by the door. Anora glanced up. "That will be Alistair himself. I must go." She caught him by the shoulders and kissed his cheek. "Maker keep you, Father."

Something was going on at the Wardens' table by the time he returned. Heads were together, and there was whispering, of the kind that usually preceded someone being knifed. Leliana was making tremendous gestures at him to hurry. Loghain had no sooner sat down, than Oghren began growling out the news.

"The Boss is going to have it out with Chantry Boy. Up in the chapel. If we get there first we can see the whole thing. She'll set him straight. Or she'll wipe the floor with him. One or t'other. My money's on her, anyway."

Leliana whispered, "Alistair started to storm away, and Maude just said "Alistair…" The bard was impressed and excited. "It was just the way she said his name. He stopped, right there, right in his tracks, and he listened. So now they are to have a heart-to-heart talk. Oh, I do hope they can be friends again!"

Eavesdropping might be ungentlemanly, but Loghain had never been much of an excuse for a gentleman. And eavesdroppers often learned very useful things. Without apology, he joined the eager audience of Leliana, Zevran, Oghren, and Morrigan, of all people.

"Sten!" Zevran hissed, "Don't you want to see this?"

"Why?" The qunari wondered. "He is utterly spineless. She will triumph over him, as always." He strode away, looking much like a walking fortification.

Hmmm. Loghain studied the retreating back. If one could build a movable, fortified tower, and use it to approach a castle wall…

"Naturally," Morrigan smirked to everyone else. "But 'tis the process that intrigues me."

"Where is Wynne?" Leliana asked, her eyes uneasy.

"Never fear," Zevran grinned. "Avernus asked to converse with her about some grave magical matter." He winked shamelessly, and Loghain considered wringing his neck. All the same, he was glad that Wynne was occupied, and would not interfere in what promised to be—amusing. Though he was still considering that new idea of a—what to call it? A 'Siege Tower' perhaps?

He was the tallest of the lurkers, so he could easily see over everyone else's heads. They positioned themselves behind a hanging arras, which was happily nearly transparent on their side, due to the coarse weave.

Maude and Alistair were already talking as they walked in. Loghain winced at the sound of the girl's voice in full 'I will talk you out of the family jewels' mode.

I swear before the Maker: if she ever tries that trick on with me, I will…

He ought not to complain, because it was that very trick of voice that had gained her this interview. It was utterly abominable, and perhaps he should warn Anora about it…

Maybe.

The Wardens might need a favor from the Crown someday.

He would have to think about it…

Setting that aside for the moment, he concentrated on listening.

"I don't think we have much to say to each other!"

"I think we do. Riordan Joined with Duncan, Alistair. Seeing him was so wonderful. I felt I had to trust him and respect his judgment. You and I always suspected that there were things we just did not know about the Wardens. We were right, and they're really serious things, it turns out. Riordan wasn't just being soft. Avernus told me some things that were truly alarming…"

She lowered her voice, and whispered something to him. The boy's eyes widened. It was brief, though, and Loghain smirked. She probably had not told him the whole story. Probably simply that only a Warden could kill the Archdemon.

He was still sulking. "None of that has anything to do with me. I'm not a Warden anymore."

"I know, Alistair. And you were right," she added, very earnestly, her huge eyes full of respect. "Your path is a difficult and lonely one. You were born to be King, and the very fact that you don't want to be shows what a great King you'll make."

Loghain thought he would probably vomit fairly soon.

The boy was buying it, though.

"-I can already see what a difference you've made," the girl murmured. "How much more confident everyone is. It's you, Alistair. I always knew the day would come when you had to follow your destiny."

Morrigan was making gagging gestures. Leliana hushed her.

"But—" the boy whined, "I always thought we'd be together. You and me. You could be Queen instead of Anora."

The girl shook her head, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears, a sad smile on her lips. "Oh, Alistair! If only! But you told me yourself, long ago, that's it's nearly impossible for two Grey Wardens to have a child! How could I be so selfish as to put myself forward when my value as a Queen is already so compromised? I would only have been a burden in the end. I can help you as a Warden, Alistair. That's all I can ever be, now. But you—I saw you at dinner there—with Anora. How splendid you look together—"

He groaned.

"Yes, you do! You look wonderful together, as if you were made for each other—golden and glowing and perfect."

Leliana and Morrigan each grabbed at Loghain as he appeared ready to launch himself at the girl through the curtain. Suppressed laughter shook Oghren like a crazed bronto. Zevran was grinning, waving frantically for silence.

"We'll defeat the Blight, Alistair. I know it. And you'll be a great King, because you care. Think of all the good you can do—the changes you can make—the people you can take care of. Where you go, I can't follow. What you have to do, I can't be any part of. If you had refused to be King, you would have regretted it: maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow—but soon, and for the rest of your life."

"But—" he whimpered, with the last shreds of his willpower "—Loghain, Maude! How could you do it?"

"I know you think I was weak, Alistair!" she admitted, in an eerie whisper. "Perhaps I was. Perhaps I was. When I saw Loghain on the floor, it was as if I saw my own father there, Alistair! My own father, as he lay bleeding to death in the larder, the night my family was killed. I couldn't kill him, Alistair, and I couldn't let you do it either. I couldn't kill him in front of his daughter. I would have been no better than Howe."

Loghain thought this was shameless, even for the girl. And it gave Alistair something to latch onto.

He said, "Well, what about Howe? " He complained, "You got your vengeance, but I didn't get mine! If it had been Howe that Riordan had wanted to conscript, would you have done it?"

"Absolutely!" The girl gazed into Alistair's eyes with limpid sincerity. "I would do anything to stop the Blight." She laughed ruefully. "Mind you, I think it would have killed me in the end, but I would have done it. Trust me, Alistair, as you once did. It's going to be all right. All I want is to save Ferelden. And it shall be saved, even-" here her voice broke, but she smiled bravely, "—even I don't live to see it."

He swept her up in a bear hug, snuffling. "Oh, Maude! I forgive you! I still think you're wrong, but I understand. You've always spared everybody you could. With any luck, Loghain will die fighting the Archdemon!"

Loghain hissed between his teeth, forgetting that that was exactly his own plan. You mangy little wrong-side of-the-blanket-below-stairs BASTARD…

"That's not a nice thing to say, Alistair!" Maude reproved him sweetly, daintily wagging a finger at him. "You might have moved up in the world, but I'm still a lowly Warden, and I have got to deal with Loghain. You shouldn't encourage me to think mean things about him. The Archdemon is much worse than Loghain: and we must always remember that."

The Boy-Who-Would-Be-King-If–Loghain-Didn't-Kill-Him-First laughed merrily. "Well, that's your problem and not mine, now! And it's your own fault." He poked her with a finger, grinning. "Remember that!"

"I'm not likely to forget!" she smiled merrily back him, reflecting his mood, his expression, and even his posture perfectly. She laid her hand on his cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Alistair! Now go back to your betrothed, and show her how lucky—how very lucky she is!"

He laughed and strode to the door, looking back at her with a cheeky grin. She smiled at him with just a hint of wistful regret. He was gone, then, boots echoing down the stone halls of Redcliffe.

Maude blew out a breath, and looked around as the arras was thrust aside by an enraged Loghain. She grinned at him impudently, and set one foot on a prayer rail, arms raised in victory.

Everyone but Loghain burst into applause. She bowed.

"I am awesome, " she declared. "I am the best. I can hardly credit my brilliance. My chief weapons are charm, deceit, and shameless toadying. None can withstand their power."

"Well, I can bloody well withstand them!" Loghain snarled. "You're going to burn in hell, you know."

Oghren cackled. "'The Archdemon is much worse than Loghain-'"

Zevran chimed in. "'We must always remember THAT!'"

Morrigan quoted mockingly, "'I'm so PROUD of you Alistair! You're going to be a great king because you CARE..."

"The Maker will forgive her!" Leliana protested earnestly. "the Prophet blesses peacemakers-"

"—the Champions of the Just!" the girl crowed, dancing around the chapel out of Loghain's reach. "Maude is the champion! Maude is the champion! Victory is mine! Alistair likes me again, even if he doesn't like you! Ha!"

Remorselessly, he pursued her into a corner and then grabbed her wrist. "'Ha,' indeed! Come on, you little lunatic. Riordan awaits us in his chamber. We mustn't disappoint our Orlesian master."

"Oh, give it a rest, Loghain!"

Clearly, Riordan did not know quite what to make of Avernus. And Avernus did not seem interested in helping him out. Instead, the old mage persisted in behaving as if Loghain were in command, which baffled Maude and irritated Riordan.

"I did not know that any Warden could be as old as you," Riordan mused. "What are you—seventy? Eighty?"

"Thirty years until one's Calling is perhaps simply an average," Avernus said calmly, giving Riordan no other information. "I am here, despite my years, and ready to do my part."

"Do you all understand-" Riordan began, with another puzzled look at Avernus "—how an Archdemon is slain?"

"We know the theory," Maude said, a little rebelliously. "Only a Warden can strike the final blow and kill the monster dead. Once struck the essence flows down the taint into the Warden. Mutual destruction. End of Archdemon and Warden. Of course, I don't believe-"

Loghain elbowed her. She shut up and glared at him from the corner of her eye.

"That is correct," Riordan said, frowning at her flippant attitude. "It is customary for the eldest to take the final blow, but since Avernus is a mage, and far too old, it is clear that the duty is mine. The Calling might have spared him, but it will not spare me much longer. If I fail, the burden falls to you."

The girl stared. "But—"

Loghain elbowed her again. She elbowed him back. Avernus cleared his throat.

"Understood," the old mage replied.

Loghain nodded sullenly, wishing to be anywhere but here, taking orders from this Orlesian charlatan. The girl was getting restive, and was clearly indignant at Riordan's appropriation of what she considered her rights. Loghain considered ways for the man to have an accident, perhaps during the night. There was no way he was allowing this interloper into their tight little fellowship, or anywhere near the girl.

"Then that is all," Riordan said, dismissing them. "I suggest you get what rest you can before tomorrow."

Maude opened her mouth to object. "But I'm still going to ki—"

Loghain laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, and leaned. She scowled at him fiercely, and shut her mouth with a snap.

Not that he thought for a moment that Riordan could dispatch the beast, but the sooner the Orlesian died a pointless death, the better.

Wanting to get the girl out of the room before she pulled her blades and went on some sort of killing spree, Loghain said, "At least this will all soon be settled—one way or another."

"It will," Riordan agreed somberly. "Let us hope it is for the best."

Understanding each other without speaking, Loghain and Avernus linked arms with the girl, and walked her out of the room, leaving the Senior Warden of Jader to his private, bemused thoughts. They covered some distance before giving their real opinion. This was partly achieved by Loghain covering the girl's mouth with his other hand until they were well down the hall.

"Phhh!" the girl took a deep breath, and made a face. "What utter rubbish! I'm so disappointed in him. How can he imagine he can tell me what to do? Nobody can tell me not to kill a dragon. That is my dragon, not his! What impertinence! You're so right, Loghain: Orlesians are very encroaching."

"Maude," Loghain sighed, "if this—Riordan- really wants first go at the Archdemon, just let him have his way."

"Oh!" She was puzzled, but then her brow cleared. "Oh! You think he'll be killed in minutes after softening up the beast a bit. Probably. But accidents can happen, and the Archdemon is mine! I saw it first. I saw it in the rotten flesh in the Dead Trenches. I've been practicing killing dragons for over a year. And now that man saunters in and tries to take my dragon away!"

Avernus eyed her with dry amusement. "My dear child," he said, "Somehow I think there will be plenty of Archdemon for all of us."

Thanks to my brilliant reviewers: Shakespira, kiti, Piceron, Sarah1281, mutive, Guilde, Alpha Cucumber, Enaid Aderyn, Beriathwen, Kizie, Eva Galana, WellspringCD, Lehni, mille libri, Amhran Comhrac, Zyanic, Reyavie, arysani, Terenbas, Prisoner 24601, and Windchime68!

More reviews are always welcome! I love new ideas and insights!

Next up: Dark Thingy. You Know...Thingy?