Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel Comics, Dragon Age, Stephen King's Doctor Sleep, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, or any of their related characters. Character Warjen Zevonishki or "Zevon" is an homage to my favorite musician, long deceased, no disrespect intended, I included him because King dedicated the novel Doctor Sleep to his memory. 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: May contain spoilers for Doctor Sleep, Dragon Age Origins, Origins DLC, Awakening, and Dragon Age II, Dragon Age II DLC, Dragon Age Inquisition as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling. May also contain spoilers for Marvelmovies, series, and/or comics, Harry Potter books, and WB Games' Hogwarts Legacy. Song lyrics included herein were used without permission.

Chapter Eleven: Ostagar

It was a hard-won battle, but when Fergus and the men of Highever came surging up to attack from the rear, they easily overcame their foes. Oddly, however, the attackers fought to the bitter end. At at the bitter end, Elilia Cousland realized something she probably should have realized previously. The attackers were wearing the regalia of the Arling of Amaranthine. She looked at one of them, a common soldier in common soldier's armor with the mark of the arling on his chest, laid out on the ground before her where she'd struck him down. Was he really in the employ of Rendon Howe? Did Rendon Howe, whom she had always called "Uncle," actually send these men to kill them all while they were sleeping? Had father known? Why else had Fergus not gone to Ostagar as planned?

Her mother fussed over her, checking her for wounds. She hadn't taken any, surprisingly, though she was quite heavily slathered with blood. "You did splendidly, dearest," Eleanor said. "Your father and I are very proud."

Father. She'd lost sight of him in the battle. Her eyes sought him out, and she found him, looking grim and tired. He stood near the giant warrior, who clearly had suffered a number of wounds, though it did not seem to incapacitate him in any way. He looked tremendously angry. He sheathed his sword on his back and ran both hands through his disheveled hair.

"Dead to the last man. Bloody helheim! I don't see how Rendon Howe inspires this kind of bloody devotion. There's more to this, and I will know what it is, so help me!" he raged, in a voice like thunder. Elilia wondered just who he was to try and do what was clearly her father's job, looking into the causes of this insurrection. Everything about him except his fighting ability screamed "peasant."

In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, she was attracted. Strongly attracted. He could fight like no one she had ever seen, and he was reasonably good-looking, with strong features and chillingly pale eyes. Her parents would be aghast if they knew that, after sabotaging every potential noble suitor she'd ever had, she was getting hot and bothered over some peasant! Besides which, he was probably already married. He didn't look like he was that much older than her, but peasants married young, she'd heard.

He touched a hand to his temple and began to speak. Elilia realized he was using a Kjalla, a bluetooth-like device that Asgardians used to communicate long-distance. It wasn't the most secure form of communication, but it was the quickest and easiest. It surprised her, but then she realized that the Kjalla was rather old technology, and not expensive at all. Even peasants must be able to afford them.

"Loki? Yeah, Pup. You told him? I'm not surprised. But you know what I found here, right? That's right, they fought to the last damned man. A whole bloody army of men who should be marching south to fight the Darkspawn, now lying dead in Castle Highever for one man's ambition. I want to know why. There must be more to it than anything Howe promised them."

On the other end of the conversation, Loki pondered the situation for a few moments before answering. "Well, Papa, I have been trying to pin down the Orlesian agent who gave Arl Howe his purported 'evidence' against Teyrn Cousland. It's surprisingly difficult. She is… slippery. Each time I think I have hold of her she slips from my grasp. I do believe I can pinpoint her location, but I do not believe it would be wise to act against her directly at this time."

"Why not?" Loghain said, tight-lipped and trying not to shout.

"Because she has a wide web of confederates. She is the hub, I am sure of it, but there are many spokes in the wheel. If you kill her before I have uncovered the rest of the agents, I may never find them all. We would be vulnerable to further… issues… in the future."

"Fairly spoken, Pup. Very well, I'll give you a bit of time to worry at her, provided you can do so safely. Keep me informed, and work on finding out how she managed to get a whole battalion of men to fight like their lives weren't worth a tinker's damn."

"I will, Papa."

"Goodbye, and take care."

"You too."

He broke the call and turned to Teyrn Cousland. "Bryce, I don't claim to understand this, but at least we put an end to it. I trust your men took no serious casualties?"

Elilia was rattled. Why did the peasant address her father so familiarly? Why was everyone behaving so respectfully toward him?

Oh, dear sweet Talos and holy mother Mara… he was a warrior like no other, he seemed like a peasant but clearly was not, and he was, as her father had most inadequately described to her, "quite a large man?" Could this be the legendary Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir?

She honestly had expected him to be considerably older.

Her father's eyes flicked to her, and he drew the Teyrn away for a whispered conversation, during which time the Teyrn's cold gray eyes flicked to her more than once. She had no idea what her father said to him, but it clearly wasn't to the Teyrn's satisfaction, as he appeared unhappy but resigned at the end of it. He closed his eyes and nodded once briskly.

Her father came over to her and clapped his hands on her arms. "Elilia, dear. You did very well tonight. I am proud. Very proud of you. And I've changed my mind. I'm not leaving you here while Fergus and I go to Ostagar to serve His Majesty."

"That's… an abrupt turn-about," Elilia said, eyes wide.

"You've proven to me that you're ready," he said. "I'm putting you in the service of Ferelden… of Asgard's greatest warrior. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir will teach you everything you've ever wanted to know about the art of warfare, Pup, if you listen and follow orders."

"That's really Teyrn Loghain?"

"None other."

"How did he come to be here tonight?"

"I am not entirely certain, my dear, but he somehow discovered Howe's treachery against us, and arrived in time to tell me to hold Fergus and the men back, and to set a trap for the snake. He has agents, I've always known that, but I had no idea he had eyes on my Teyrnir as well as his own."

"No agents, Bryce," Loghain said. "Just eyes. And in truth, I myself didn't know they were turned your way, though of course I am gratified to have been able to deal with this issue before it could get out of hand."

Fergus came up, wiping sweat from his eyes. "We are most grateful to you, Teyrn Loghain. Father warned the servants to stay well clear before the attack landed, and it would seem we suffered no loses, though quite a few men are injured. None severely, however, for which we may rejoice."

Teyrn Loghain did not seem inclined to linger. He pointed a huge finger at Elilia and beckoned her forward. "You, girl, can you fly a velocycle? And will that hound of yours ride in a sidecar?"

"Er… I can and I'm sure he will, my Lord."

"Good. I left my son in good hands, but he's on his way to Ostagar as we speak and I'll not leave him to face the Darkspawn horde without me if I can help it."

"You're that worried about Lord Freyr?"

"Not that son," Loghain said. "Come along, every minute we spend here talking is another mile he gets closer to the horde."

He headed off, and Elilia had no choice but to follow. She whistled to Kiveal, who gamely padded along at her heels. In all honesty, she had never flown a velocycle in her life, but it couldn't be that hard. Shoving Kiveal into a sidecar might be a bit trickier, but he would climb in willingly enough. It would be a matter of space. Velocycles and their accouterments weren't made for the four-legged. They were not made for the extraordinarily tall, either, but if Loghain could make do then so could she.

Loghain's velocycle was already prepared. He had apparently come in it from Denerim. Servants prepared one for her at Loghain's command, hooking up a sidecar for Kiveal. She got him in with some difficulty, trying to arrange his massive form so that he was not squished in the tiny compartment, and then climbed in the main cab herself. She wondered how Loghain managed to travel this way. She herself felt so constricted she could scarcely breathe. She wondered why Asgardians had never developed a means of transportation as swift as velocycles that was as comfortable and as practical as a skiff or an airship. Fortunately they were so very fast that it was only a trip of about forty minutes to travel from Highever on the northern coast, to Ostagar in the far south, a distance of about nine hundred forty miles. They beat the King and the armies of Denerim there by quite a little, though there was already an encampment made up of some of the southern Arls and Banns and, of course, the home army of Gwaren. In another three days, King Cailan and the men from Denerim arrived, along with many of the armies from the north. It would take longer for Teyrn Bryce and Lord Fergus to arrive, a matter of a day or so.

Loghain ignored the King's cheerful greeting and lifted Loki off the saddle of his own great war horse, with the unfortunate name of Stew-Bone. "The little brat give you any trouble, Commander?" he asked of Cauthrien.

"None whatsoever, Ser. He was a perfect little soldier."

"Good to hear."

"This is the son you were worried about?" Elilia said, pointing at Loki. "Dare I ask why you thought to put an infant within striking distance of the Darkspawn? To bring a small child to any army encampment?"

"My son, my business," Loghain said.

"You are Lady Elilia Cousland, yes?" Cailan said, smiling at her. "Lord Loki is a great Seer, and has invaluable information on the Darkspawn horde. Dangerous as it is, his presence here is of the utmost necessity."

"Cailan…"

"A Seer? Your son is a mage?" Elilia said, goggling at Loghain.

"No, or at least, not that anyone knows. He's psychic. It's not considered magic, although how it differs exactly is not really something I understand. It certainly seems like magic, to me, but I expect it doesn't come from any connection to the Fade. It all comes from the power of his mind."

"We haven't seen any sign of the banners of Highever," Cailan said. "How came you to be here so early, Lady Elilia?"

"I traveled here with Teyrn Loghain, Your Majesty. My father and brother are still on the way, with the men of Highever. They should be here in a day or two."

Cailan looked from Elilia to Loghain and back again, blue eyes wide and surprised. Loghain scowled most fearsomely at him. The young King started grinning like an idiot, which caused Loghain to scowl all the more.

"Well, we are most pleased to have you, my Lady. Most pleased indeed! You are a welcome addition to our ranks! Very welcome indeed!"

"Where's Duncan and the Wardens?" Loghain growled.

This caused Cailan to frown in sudden pique. "Off to Orzammar. He hopes to find some recruits there. He said they'd be here by the end of the week. He swore that the regular army would be able to handle the Darkspawn until then. Have you had much trouble with them yourselves?"

"Some. They've come up against us a few times, a few more in numbers each time, but nothing extraordinary. It's like they're testing us."

"They are," Loki said. "And there are a lot more of them below. A lot more."

"Then it's a good thing we've arrived," Cailan said, smiling brightly again. "Wouldn't want your father to have all the fun, now would we, young Master Loki?"

"It won't be fun for long, Your Majesty," Loki said quietly, not looking at the young man.