Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T

Spoilers: Takes place ten years or more after the events of Dragon Age: Origins, from the background of a female Human Noble pc who has recruited Loghain and persuaded an "altered" Alistair to marry Anora and rule as King despite his survival, and persuaded Loghain to perform the dark ritual with Morrigan. May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.

A/N: This story was intended to end with putting down the invasion. Then it was meant to end after bringing Loghain to the ashes. Now I don't know where it will end. They write themselves.

Chapter Eleven: Fertility

They did not immediately speak of the pilfered ashes Loghain carried tied to his belt loops after all, possibly because none of them thought it entirely prudent to do so while wending their way back down the mountain, for all they knew watched every step of the way by Andraste's immortal guardian spirit, or perhaps because all of them were feeling rather husked out by the experience and thinking somber thoughts. For her part the now ex-Warden vacillated between burning rage and manic joy, and the others allowed her to draw ahead of them for safety's sake.

Alistair and Anora dropped behind Loghain as well, letting him travel on ahead until they felt they had a safe distance between them for private words, though Anora cautioned her husband that her father's ears were keen. They walked together in silence for a little while, and then Anora said, with a mixture of wonder and bitterness in her voice, "I never knew a thing about my grandparents before today. Father's parents, I mean, of course - I grew up with my maternal grandfather, though my grandmother died when mother was a child. I knew my grandfather's name, and had been told by King Maric that he had been a Knight who died in his service, but father never spoke of them at all. Now I suppose I know why. Evidently Maric left out some pertinent details regarding my grandfather's death, if father feels he 'ran off and left him to die,' and still begrudges his 'sacrifice,' and I can't even begin to imagine the horror of witnessing my mother raped and murdered before my eyes - nor do I want to. It's all very disturbing to take in at once, to say the least. And to top it all off, I'm not sure quite how to feel about the fact that the image of grandmother the spirit presented looked so very much like mother."

"Don't read too much into it," Alistair said. "The image is a reflection of what the spirit sees in your soul, not the departed themselves. Frankly I thought she looked a bit like Wynne, and I'm sure the Ward - that Elilia saw someone who looked like Eleanor Cousland. When we were here before the shade was reflecting Eli's father, but to me he looked like Duncan, even though I'd seen portraits of the Teyrn and knew they were nothing alike."

Anora seemed relieved. "That is comforting to hear. I find something a bit disturbing in the idea that father would marry a woman who closely resembled his mother…all the more so because of what happened to her."

"What did you make of what he said in his answer to the Guardian about 'loving the woman betrothed to his best friend?'" Alistair said. Then he blanched as he realized that was rather a tactless question to pose to the man's daughter, of all people.

Anora sighed. "Queen Rowan. Do not look so, Alistair - there was nothing to it after she married the King and father married mother. He told mother when he met her that he'd been in love with Rowan, and she told me about it after the queen's death, when father went to Denerim to help King Maric. I don't think he ever really stopped loving her, either, but he loved my mother more, which is all I care about. I'm sure it made him feel terribly guilty, though, since his idea of fidelity is not unlike a mabari's and he doesn't understand that humans are not driven to bond solely to one master for life. He expended a great deal of energy making continual restitution to mother for what he considered his unfaithfuless, though I've never heard so much as a peep from even the most vicious of quarters that father was ever a bounder or kept a mistress."She laughed, suddenly, surprising Alistair. "Someday I shall tell you about the rosebush he brought back from Denerim for my mother's garden. If that wasn't self-imposed penance, I don't know what is."

Quizzical, wondering exactly how roses and penance worked together in such a way to make such a dry and occasionally acerbic lady as the Queen laugh aloud, Alistair made a mental note to remind her of her promise to tell that story as soon as they had leisure for it.

Anora was watching her father now with a thoughtful expression. "He hasn't been the same man since mother died - I know you find it hard to believe that he was ever anything approaching domesticated, but he certainly does better under the civilizing influence of a wife." Then her gaze rose to Elilia, far ahead in the distance, and her lips drew into a slight pout. "Of course, it could also be good for him to have a companion whose life experiences and outlooks are not so much different from his own."

Alistair caught her gaze before her meaning, and when at last he divined it he burst into a hearty laugh. "So you don't think Eli would be a civilizing influence, but you think they could have a lot in common, eh? Please tell me you're not contemplating becoming a matchmaker for your own father."

She sighed. "I fear that is entirely unnecessary. I'd prefer he chose a more…gentle…woman but at least I cannot find fault with her lineage. Lady Elilia is wild but she has a stout heart and usually honorable intentions. Not to mention she's excellent at producing valuable allies, which must mean she has more charm than she likes to let on."

"Maker's breath, Eli is a Lady again, isn't she?" Alistair said, surprised. "Or is she? I mean, does her title automatically return to her just because she's no longer a Warden?"

"I think we would have to satisfy convention by hosting a ceremony to reinstate her to noble rank, and I'm sure Teyrn Fergus would like to see his sister officially honored so, but as far as I'm concerned she is as she was born. We never took her title away from her, after all - the Wardens did that."

"And you think that Loghain is…that they would…" Alistair blushed and wiped his sweaty brow with his bandana. "You believe that rumor, don't you, about…what went on…last night?"

"Lady Elilia essentially confirmed it for me."

The look on Alistair's face said that he was considering something he did not like to be forced to consider. "…Ew."

"What are you 'ew'ing about?" Anora demanded indignantly.

"Well, it's just that…oh bugger, I'm just going to say it - she's a lot younger than he is, and beyond all that she was like a sister to me during our travels together, and he's my father-in-law, so that's just…ew."

"Well I'll leave you here to ponder that," Anora said primly. "I need to have a private word with my father."

Too dignified to trot, Anora walked away at a rapid pace and with a certain tilt to her head that said she was likely to be miffed with her husband for some time. He, however, was too distracted by the sight of her still-shapely backside swaying away with the golden mail clinging as seductively as such armor could ever be, and scarcely noticed her displeasure.

Anora caught up to Loghain, though she did not catch him unawares. "Hello, dear," he said absently as she approached. "Not too upset by what that fool spirit said, are you?"

"About…?" Anora ventured, uncertain which part he was referring to.

"About you and Cailan. And that bloody conspiracy he mentioned you seemed to know all about. I want names, by the way, and I'll have a reckoning, by the Maker."

"Let it lie, father - it is water that passed under a bridge long burned. No, I'm not upset about any of that - I made my peace with those particular demons long ago, and if the memories still have the power to put a little sting in my heart they're still no more than memories. I've even learned to forgive Cailan. And the nobles involved. And here I am, still Queen, so I feel I've made good my revenge."

He chuckled a little at that and subsided, though Anora knew him well enough to believe that he would not content himself with docility and would likely attempt to ferret out the names some other time. He needed to be distracted, and distraction was a fine side-effect of courting.

She gestured at the Warden, who was at that moment lashing out with violence at a half-crumbled pillar that shook and crumbled still more beneath the force of her assault. "Go to her," she said.

"If I were wearing plate I might consider it, but in nothing but leathers I feel that would be suicidal at present," he said.

"She needs you," Anora insisted. "You took away the taint, and that is a good thing because she wanted to be free of it. But you also took away her purpose. You need to make her see that there is still good and noble work for a woman of her skill and courage, and that she need not feel bereft. The Wardens may have no further use for her, but you must make her see that Ferelden still needs her."

He sighed. "I just hope she thinks that's enough."

She watched him trot to catch up to the lady. She had very deliberately not told him to 'go forth and conquer yon damsel,' for such a command, even couched in terms of a request, was very apt to strike upon his perverse side, resulting in him assiduously ignoring Elilia until the end of days. Either relations between them would progress naturally…or they would not. Uncharacteristically optimistic about it all, Anora thought they probably would. Elilia Cousland had never struck her as the sort to seduce and abandon, and her father had not in all his years shown himself inclined to same, so something must exist between them, whether it be a burgeoning love or merely a strong attraction that could develop into something stronger with time and attention. She would content herself to wait and see.

Alistair caught up with her in time to watch with her as Lady Elilia raised a fist to Loghain, seemed to tremble upon the precipice of some intense urge, and then socked him on the arm. "For Eli, that's a friendly gesture," Alistair said, but he winced as Loghain rubbed the spot she'd struck. "Maybe a little harder than she usually hits, though. What did you say to him?"

"I told him that she needs him to help her come to terms with her new life. I'm hoping he can make her see how important she is to Ferelden, Warden or not. Not only is she one of our greatest Champions, but on the more practical day-to-day side of things she's a Cousland. If her brother continues to refuse to remarry, it may be up to her to supply a proper heir for the Teyrnir."

"With your father as the begetter," Alistair said, a little sourly.

"That's for the two of them to decide."

He sighed. "I suppose it is at that. Still hard for me to wrap my head around, though. I mean, the man hired the Antivan Crows to kill her."

"I suspect she's forgiven him for that. Mainly, perhaps, because its something she very well may have done herself if she felt the need."

"Elilia, hire assassins? Never. She'd much rather kill her enemies herself, face to face."

"So would my father. Sometimes you're just too busy to get around to it, however. Lady Cousland and my father are…a lot alike. In many ways."

Alistair looked at the two warriors now walking peacefully side-by-side, hands not quite touching, and could not believe it. "Loghain is serious and always stern. Elilia is merry and jocular - even when she's in a blood-induced battle frenzy. I don't see it."

Anora's mouth curved in a slight smile. "Those are the masks they wear, painted a certain way just like an Orlesian's. Or if the analogy is too odious, like the way Elilia uses cosmetics to make herself more fierce rather than more attractive. Underneath the war paint, the machinery clicks along in very similar fashion."

Alistair pondered for a time, unconvinced, and eventually they reached the foothills and Loghain brought them to a halt at a nice clearing in a wooded area.

"We should camp here tonight," he said. "It's quite late and we don't want to be on the roads after dark. We can catch up with the army early enough tomorrow."

"We don't have provisions," Alistair said, and gave his wife a sidelong glance, "or tents and bedrolls."

She seemed amused. "Do you think I've never slept rough before, husband? I assure you I am quite capable of making do with packed earth and a campfire." She unslung her bow. "I can even provide us with the evening meal, I dare say."

"I'll find wood for the fire," Loghain said, and moved off into the forest in search of limbs and tinder.

"Well. I feel…superfluous," Alistair said whimsically as he and Elilia were abandoned to their own devices and the Mac Tir contingent set about making preparations for the camp. "Granted, that's a common feeling, for me."

Elilia began scratching together stones for the firepit. After a long period of silence, she finally spoke.

"When I was sixteen, my parents took me to Denerim for a grand salon Arl Eamon threw at his estate to celebrate Satinalia. Father said I was old enough to have my own adventures in town so he gave me some silver and let me have free run for the day as long as I promised to be back in time to get ready for the party. I was late, of course, and got back just in time to slide into my seat between mother and father at the banquet table for the feast - sporting my brand-new face tattoo. I thought mother would die of shock and shame. I think that was when the noble lords and ladies of Ferelden first started calling me 'The Cousland Barbarian' and even father wasn't particularly happy with me about it - said it made me look like a vulgar sellsword. Seems appropriate now, since that's all I've left to do."

"Elilia, you do not need to turn mercenary," Alistair protested. "Anora and I discussed it, and she's of a mind that you should be restored to your birthright as Ferelden nobility. I fully agree with her on that. We need you, there's nobody I trust so much as I trust you, and with all that's going wrong with the world these days Ferelden needs her defenders."

She sighed. "I don't feel I deserve any such thing. Loghain may have intended for me to be guilt-free about this, but I'm not - I wished this upon myself, and I feel bereft of honor."

"You'll get over it," Loghain said gruffly, coming back into the clearing with an armload of twigs and brush. He began laying out a careful chimney of branches over dry tinder in Elilia's firepit and lit the stack with a spark from the flint he carried always. "And personally I like your ink, though I can imagine the fuss your folks made."

The blaze was going to his satisfaction so he stood up and crossed to where she sat and pushed her hanging head up to meet his eyes with a finger beneath her jaw line. "Chin up and plod on."

A fire seemed to spark in her eyes, a moment of anger perhaps, but then a different look settled onto her restless features and she nodded firmly.

"Are you going to tell us your plans for Lady Andraste?" Alistair asked, to change the subject.

"While dinner is cooking, if we're fortunate enough to have any."

"You shan't, if you don't come help me with it," Anora called out from some distance. She sounded slightly out of breath. Loghain headed in that direction and returned with his daughter by his side and a good-sized buck slung over his shoulder. "Hoped for a brace of rabbits at the least," Anora said, sounding rather self-satisfied. "I expect this is much better after a hard day's work on short commons."

"Maker's breath, but we have had a day, haven't we?" Alistair said, awed. "The battle feels like it happened a lifetime ago, but its been less than a dozen hours."

Loghain took his belt knife and dressed out the deer with speed and efficiency born of long practice. "This blade isn't as good as the one I gave Duncan," he said, grinning, "but it's serviceable enough, I suppose." He built a stand out of branches and spitted one of the back haunches and set it to roast.

"So what are your plans?" Alistair said, drawing the subject back to Andraste's ashes.

Instead of answering directly, Loghain reached into the map pocket on his belt and took out a well-worn parchment. He spread it on the ground so that they could all gather around it to see. It was a map of Ferelden but the borders were not quite correct, pushing far into the holdings of Orlais and even encompassing part of the Free Marches. It was either the work of a power-hungry tyrant with a lunatic streak, or the whimsical doodle of a fanciful imagination. His dark glare dared them to say something about it. No one did.

"Here's where the Darkspawn first attacked," he said, pointing to Ostagar with a stick of charcoal he also took from his map pocket. "Of course they eventually spread across the entire face of Ferelden but as you know there are certain areas of the bannorn that still bear witness to their passage."

He swiftly sketched a line straight north from the ruined fortress through the village of Lothering, now only a Blighted memory, almost to the middle of the bannorn. Fast strokes of charcoal roughed out a dark black stain on the map that covered all the land now laying useless and abandoned, unable to produce much-needed crops or sustain livestock, an area of about a hundred square miles of vital farmland and more still of forest and marsh. The region he marked out was quite accurate, by Alistair's accounting, but something about it…

"Andraste's sweet flaming skirts!" he swore colorfully. "That looks just like a - "

He stopped himself, embarrassed, but Loghain nodded grimly.

"A cock and balls? Yes, it does at that. Very appropriate, considering that what the Darkspawn did, essentially, was to rape us up the backside."

Elilia groaned and covered her face with both hands. "Loghain, if you had ever encountered what happens to the female captives the Darkspawn take when they raid, and if fate had chosen to bless you with a womb instead of testicles, you would not be so keen to make such a metaphor."

He waved that aside. "What the Blighted lands look like on a map is of no consequence. What they mean to the hundreds of poor Fereldens who scrape and scrabble and can just barely manage to feed themselves is more important. If those lands were fertile again, it would be that much easier to feed our people - and put a lot of our unemployed back to gainful work."

"So you want to…spread the ashes…on the land?" Alistair asked.

Loghain nodded. "Or sow them into the ground."

"A fine idea, if it works," Anora said, somewhat doubtfully. "But would we have enough ashes to cure it all?"

Loghain shrugged. "If we manage to take back only a little land, 'tis better than none at all. Hard to say how many acres per pinch could be restored."

"With the size of your pinches we'd run out of Andraste within half a mile," Elilia said, eyes still irritated and apparently smarting from the dusting she'd received. "Better let me measure out the doses."

"All right, my Lady Cousland, by all means, do. Seems fitting enough to me that you should save Ferelden's ass from the flames again, assuming that it works."

Though she'd clearly been jesting, at Loghain's words her face grew reluctantly contemplative. "I could organize a bit of an expedition, I suppose," she said slowly, "make something of an adventure out of it. After all, there are always plenty of places to go and people to kill in the wild spaces of Ferelden. And if it works, 'twould be a worthwhile endeavor."

While Anora was glad to hear the former Warden take even a half-hearted interest in something, she pursed her lips and felt disgruntled. If she was off on what could potentially be a months-long trip to the south reaches then she wouldn't be around for any romance to bloom, and Anora found that a trifle disheartening. She was beginning to like the mental story she was spinning of her father's courtship to this wild woman, and their eventual marriage. Then Elilia looked at Loghain almost shyly and said, "You could come with me, if you want. It was your idea, after all."

Loghain regarded her steadily for a moment, then nodded slowly. "An adventure in the wilds with the Cousland Barbarian? That sounds grand indeed."