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: The song Loghain sings is "Heaven Don't Deserve Me," by Gordon Lightfoot. I realize there is no reason for him to know a modern folksong by a Canadian balladeer but there's no reason for Shakespeare to be alive and well and writing plays about Danish princes, either - although I would wager that its actually a melancholy Starkhaven prince he writes of, as the Bard of Ferelden. My thought is that the professional minstrels would travel singing the REALLY old ballads like "The Three Ravens" and the old songs of Robin Hood (The Black Fox, or more probably Rat Red in Ferelden, like as not - does anybody else think that Gareth Mac Tir could potentially have gone by that name at some point?) but that the average person - particularly the soldierly type - would sing shorter, coarser alehouse songs and a few easy ballads. "Heaven Don't Deserve Me" was just too utterly Loghain to pass up.
Chapter Twenty: On the Pilgrim's Path
The morning they left the three companions - and the dogs - were called before the King and Queen for a formal, private farewell and a final consultation. On the way into the throne room Loghain stopped and cadged something off of one of the palace guards that looked suspiciously like a cornhusk cigarette and one of those clever Dwarven sulfur-headed matchsticks. The guard didn't even seem to notice the silver he pressed into his hand, awestruck at the idea of sharing a smoke - more or less - with Loghain Mac Tir.
"We've had word from Orzammar," Alistair informed them, once they stood in a neat line before the throne. "Evidently King Bhelen wishes to give Ferelden a gift, something he's evidently been working on since we got him elected. The message is rather vague as to what that gift might be, exactly, but he promises that it will be 'very appropriate and useful in your nation's current circumstances,' whatever he means by that. He also says that his artisans struggled for some time to find an appropriate subject, but that ultimately they decided to use 'the human Paragons,' whoever they are. He's sending a caravan to Denerim and says they should be here in another month at the latest."
"Don't tell me they're sending us one of those atrocious stone statues they love so much?" Loghain groaned. "Ferelden is already littered with them, wherever there's a Dwarven Merchants Guild."
"It sounds rather like they're sending more than one," Anora said, with a small smile. "The message indicates plurality."
Elilia laughed. "I flippantly asked Bhelen for my head on one of those big statues," she recalled. "I do hope he hasn't taken me at my word at last!"
"I didn't know there were any human Paragons," Seanna said, thoughtfully. "I confess I'm very curious."
Loghain took his cigarette out of his map pouch and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. "I suppose we'll see when we get back," he said out of the other side. He popped the match alight one-handed with a flick of his hard-calloused thumb and held the little flame to the treated cornhusk.
"Father, I thought you quit smoking," Anora said, severely.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I did. Several times, in fact. I suspect I'll quit several times more before I'm dead."
Anora primmed up her mouth and said nothing further, evidently realizing that expressing her displeasure at the filthy habit only encouraged it. They took their leave shortly thereafter, and shouldered their packs on the main road out of the city - "The Pilgrim's Path," as it was known, leading more or less directly to Amaranthine. They would follow it as far as the Imperial Highway and then turn south, into the Blight lands. They were afoot because, as Loghain pointed out, they would be hard-pressed to feed themselves once they reached the truly poisoned lands. There would be no food there for horses. They made a brief detour to the docks, where Loghain pointed out the vast hulk of an odd-looking vessel being outfitted in the shipyard. It was a mighty craft, with a deep draught and an extraordinarily wide belly, and the whole of its outer hull was clad in thick sheets of hammered metal. The bowsprit was designed with a clear eye to ramming enemy vessels.
"The Fighting Ferelden," he said, indicating the ship. "Most folks call her 'Old Ironsides,' though Maric was devilishly pleased to call her the 'Wallowing Loghain.' Arse. That, ladies, is the Ferelden Navy, such as it is. She can crew a hundred men and has on-deck siege catapaults that can hurl fifty pound bombs at her foes. If I could figure out how the Qunari make their black powder, she'd have cannon, too. Salt peter," he said darkly and cryptically. He looked at the ship for a moment, then sighed. "She's slow and cumbersome, but she'll do a runner on any one ship - or two, or three - the Orlesians send against us. She'd not be a match against a Qunari dreadnaught…but then again, she might."
"You sound like a proud papa," Elilia laughed.
He puffed his odious cigarette and looked at the ship. "Should," he said at last. He nodded toward the vessel. "She's my youngest daughter." With that he turned and led them back to the main road.
Loghain took a deep pull off his smoke as they walked through the city gates and let it out in a long, slow plume like a dragon's warning breath. "You bought that cigarette just to annoy your daughter, didn't you?" Elilia accused him. He grinned and offered it to her.
"Want a drag?"
She accepted, put it to her lips, and inhaled. She gagged instantly and passed it back, close to retching. "That is foul," she choked out.
"Indeed it is," Loghain said, in a melancholy sort of voice, and flicked the butt onto the packed earth and ground it out beneath his heel. Champion barked her approval at the disposal of the smelly-stick.
"We should be singing," Seanna said. Elilia turned in her steps to look at her. "We should," the mage insisted, blushing. "All adventurers should set out with a song. For luck."
"You know, you are absolutely right," Elilia said. "And for double-luck, the leader of our expedition should choose the first song and start us out right." She turned around again and jabbed Loghain in the back with a very hard finger. "That means you, Dragon Breath."
She expected him to protest, so he didn't. Instead, with a wry smile, he said, "You know you just made me the leader and you can't take it back later, right? Seanna will stand as my witness to it, as will Champion and Haakon."
She sighed. "This Sanday Outing of ours was your idea, Milord, so that makes you our figurehead. I, of course, shall be the de facto leader, but I'll choose my battles. Now sing, damn you. If it's bad enough the dogs will howl and drown you out."
He thought deeply for a moment. He knew but a few songs, and fewer still he could do any justice to. Finally he grinned.
"I'm not afraid that when I'm dyin'
There'll be no one to hold my hand.
If there's a god up there He loves me
As much as my old woman can."
He gave Elilia a sidelong glance at those words, grinning, and she cackled and elbowed him in the ribs. She joined him in singing the rest but Seanna was unfamiliar with the song - not the type one might learn in the Circle, after all - and she listened and enjoyed it greatly. The two together were not great singers, but the dogs did not howl.
"I don't intend to be a martyr.
I don't give a damn what people say,
And if I never get to heaven,
Heaven don't deserve me anyway.
"I've tasted life, both good and evil.
At times I was cruel and did not pay,
And if I never get to heaven,
Heaven don't deserve me anyway.
"I don't know what it was I came for
But I've enjoyed it up 'til now.
If there's a friend who ever needs me,
I'll do my best to help somehow.
"I don't intend to keep no secrets.
I don't give a damn what people say,
And if I never get to heaven,
Heaven don't deserve me anyway.
"I know, and I'll admit, my failures.
I don't give a damn what people say,
And if I never get to heaven,
Heaven don't deserve me anyway.
"And if I never get to heaven,
Heaven don't deserve me anyway."
When they finished Seanna clapped her hands enthusiastically. "Oh, that was a fine song! Well done!"
"That song is Age-old," Elilia said, "but it sounds as though someone wrote it with our Estimable Leader in the forethought of his mind, doesn't it?"
"Thought you'd like it," Loghain grumbled, good-naturedly. They continued in peaceable silence for a time until Haakon's hackles rose. Champion stopped, sniffed, and growled low in her throat as well.
"Bandits?" Elilia asked. They were common enough on the Pilgrim's Path. Loghain unsheathed his sword, though he left his shield in harness for the time being.
"Like as not. Better be ready for trouble."
Soon enough the sounds of shouting came to their ears, the clink of metal on metal and a dog barking, and a high baying that sounded something like the old Rebel Yell that had often presaged a successful ambush during the Rebellion. There was also an odd sound none of them quite recognized, a metallic rattling followed by an authoritative "POOM-fwooop." The "POOM-fwoop" came every two or three seconds, the rattling in between each.
"Bianca's getting lonely!" someone, a man, cried out.
"Someone's under attack," Elilia said, but Loghain was already moving up the road towards the sound of altercation. Elilia unsheathed her greatsword and motioned Seanna to follow. The mage gripped her burlwood staff tightly and girded herself for battle. She cast a spell of heroic defense upon her friends and spelled their weapons with ice.
Elilia was not far behind Loghain as he rounded a corner and came full on the scene of a group of thugs attacking a pair of dwarves and a half-grown mabari. He let out a terrible war cry and flung himself into the fray, startling the male dwarf rather badly. Fortunately the man quickly seemed to realize this new attack was launched in his defense and didn't put a quarrel between Loghain's eyes. The crossbow he held was enormous and quite magnificent, and was the source of the strange noise. The dwarven woman, for her part, paid no mind to the surprise attack at all but merely kept slashing at the bandits with her dual blades. She was the one howling like a rabid mabari. The dog, a bit older and better grown than Champion and Haakon, fought at her side.
Between the eight of them they quickly put down the remaining bandits. Only then did the dwarven woman wipe the blood from her eyes and acknowledge the assistance. "Sodding stone, dusters, you've got good timing. Thanks a bundle." Her rough speech as much as the black brand over her right eye marked her as a former Casteless.
The man pulled a powerful lever on his crossbow, which folded up neatly for storage in the harness on his back. He did not have a brand, and his fine leather coat and the quality of the tunic beneath marked him as wealthy even if not highborn. "I second that," he said. "We were tougher than they were expecting, for sure, but your timely arrival was more than welcome. Varric Tethras, at your service," he said, with a grand flourish. "This is my sister, Laz Brosca."
Elilia looked from one to the other and back again. Except for similar hair color - strawberry blonde, a bit redder in her case than his - there wasn't much relationship in their looks even discounting the brand. Varric had an immensely heavy jaw, though his features were rather well-balanced, and the woman's face was almost delicate by dwarven standards. The woman, Laz, saw her dubious expression and grinned. There was blood in her teeth.
"Varric's pap used to be a noble in Orzammar before he got himself and his house booted," she said gaily. "He said his ma used to bitch about the 'drunk noble hunter' his daddy bagged that didn't even give him a son. My ma is a drunk noble hunter who always bitched at me for not being the son that would have pulled her out of the slums. Not exactly proof-positive, but sometimes you gotta take family where you can get it, eh?"
The part-grown mabari barked, and Laz slung an arm across its back. "Oh yeah, sorry. This is my dog, Paragon. We haven't been together that long, so sometimes I forget to introduce her."
"Paragon?" Seanna said. Laz's grin widened.
"Figured she deserved to be one. And if it offends those nug-humpers back in Orzammar, so much the better. Never thought I'd have a mabari, of all people in the world, but I ran across this nasty lady who was beating the poor pup, trying to make it imprint to her. Dumb bitch. Anyway, I sliced her up a bit and Paragon decided she was better off with me. True story. Lady was one of your Priests, too, which kinda made me madder about it. I thought they were supposed to be nice."
Elilia's face became a curious study, dead white and drawn. Varric saw and misinterpreted her offense. "When my sister says she 'sliced her up a bit,' I assure you she's exaggerating completely. She would never hurt a member of the Chantry. Much."
Elilia shook her head. "No, no - it's not that. I just have this horrible feeling I know who you're talking about, is all. Did you happen to find out the Priest's name?"
"I did - thought maybe I could rat on her, but couldn't figure out who I was supposed to talk to about dog-abuse. Sister Habren," Laz said. Elilia sighed gustily.
"My idiot cousin. Poor Cousin Leonas, he thought the Chantry would be some sort of miracle cure for her. The whole final straw for him was when he found out she'd bought and killed fifteen mabari puppies trying to get one to imprint to her. She doesn't even like dogs, she just wanted the status."
Haakon whined and pawed at her feet, then sat down on top of them and looked up at her winningly. She reached down and scratched his ears, soothed by his presence and his silent assertion that he knew she was not to be blamed for her poor relations.
"Excuse me," Seanna said shyly, "but are you the Varric Tethras who wrote…?"
"Hard in Hightown. Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder. Hard in Hightown: Hard to Kill. And the only authorized biography of the Champion of Kirkwall. The very same, Milady," he said, with a sweeping bow.
Seanna put a hand to her mouth to stifle a fit of the giggles, then dropped her pack and dug out the already much-worn copy of Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder. She held it out cover-first for him to see.
"I'm honored. I don't see too many of my works since the Chantry banned them. Too heretical. Ha. C'est la vie."
Loghain growled. Elilia smacked him upside the head, not terribly hard. "Sorry. My friend gets a little grumpy when he hears spoken Orlesian."
The dwarf just smiled and shrugged. "To be perfectly honest with you, its been known to set my teeth on edge from time to time, too. And given what's going on here lately, I can hardly blame him. To set your mind at rest, Messer, I'm no Orlesian but a proud son of the Free Marches, though I confess to not taking much pride in the old hometown at the moment. Kirkwall can be a hell of a nasty place, but it's the only home I've ever known. If its not too bold of me to ask, your names are…?"
Elilia and Loghain shared a glance at one another. Neither of them particularly wanted to answer. Finally Elilia took the bit in her teeth and had out with it. "I'm Elilia Cousland. These are my friends Seanna Surana and Loghain Mac Tir, and our hounds Haakon and Champion."
Formally introduced, the pups broke ranks and went to sniff their new acquaintances with interest, particularly the larger Paragon. Laz Brosca's attention was on them, but Varric Tethras was standing stock still, staring first at Elilia, then at Loghain, mouth agape. Finally he recovered his aplomb, if not his suavity. "Well, this is…an unexpected honor. The Hero of Ferelden, and the Hero of the River Dane, slayers of the Archdemon. And, I suppose, rescuers of two lowly dwarves. What brings such august personages out on the Pilgrim's Path so early in the morning, if I might ask?"
"King's business," Loghain said repressively. Elilia softened it with a smile. "Secret business," she added.
"Oo, royal intrigue. My curiosity is piqued, but I'll be respectful of the very big man and the very large swords and not inquire further."
"If you're going to Denerim, the road we just passed was quite clear," Seanna said helpfully.
"Alas, Milady, we are leaving Denerim. I thought perhaps we might feel a bit…safer…further inland. No offense and all, but your navy sucks. One ship, in the dockyards for repairs."
"A sodding big ship, though," Laz supplied.
"True. And the metal plating has a certain panache to it, though I find it hard to believe it'll float."
"She floats," Loghain said, with a tremendous scowl. "I wish we had a hundred more of her, but one was all I could ever talk the bloody bannorn into funding - and that only because I agreed to pay for her cladding out of my own damned pocket. I thought in time I'd be able to get more support for the idea, but then Maric…" He shook off the bad memory. "Let's just say I lost much of my backing for a proper Ferelden navy, and most of my enthusiasm as well."
"I defer to your greater knowledge, Messer. In any event, apart from the threat of seaborne annihilation from the grasping West, I decided that I don't care to spend any too much time in large cities just now. I recently spent some time as the 'guest' of one of the Chantry's fine Seekers, and while she turned out to be not such a bad lady after all, her hospitality was somewhat lacking. I'd prefer to keep my distance from large religious structures, for the time being."
"A Seeker? In Ferelden?" Seanna asked, eyes wide.
"Ah, no, actually, she found me in Ostwick. I came to Ferelden looking for an old friend, but I found Laz instead." The dog barked. "And Paragon."
He looked from Loghain to Elilia to Seanna and back again at each of them. "If we're headed in the same general direction," he began hopefully, "perhaps we could travel part of the way together? Danger is a lot less dangerous in a large, heavily-armed group."
Loghain and Elilia looked at each other. Loghain grimaced and shrugged. Your call. Elilia turned to the dwarves and dog with a hopeful lift to her brows. "I don't suppose either of you knows anything about picking locks or disarming traps?"
Laz and Varric looked at each other and then back at Elilia. "We're the best," they said simultaneously.