Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel Comics, Dragon Age, Stephen King's Doctor Sleep, Hogwarts Legacy, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, "Redcap" Skyrim companion mod, or any of their related characters. Character Warrjen 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 Marvel movies, series, and/or comics, Harry Potter books, and WB Games' Hogwarts Legacy. Song lyrics included herein were used without permission.
Chapter Twenty-One: Champion Schemer
"So we're to take the army to West Hills, is that right?" Teyrn Bryce Cousland asked. "But you are going elsewhere? To do what?"
"Just a quick trip to a little village called Honnleath, to make sure it's been properly warned about the Darkspawn," Loghain said. "It's only a slight jog out of the way, if all is well there I can probably be back with the army before you make the fortress."
"Why do you not think Honnleath's Bann already warned them about the Darkspawn?" Wulffe asked.
"Because Honnleath doesn't have a proper Bann, they're a side-holding of that bastard Dellingr, and he gives not one tin shit about it. I'll send most of the Wardens with you and the army. I'll just take a few with me, in case of Darkspawn. Hopefully we won't run into the entire fucking horde down there, or we won't be returning, needless to say. If that happens, Cousland, you're in charge of the army."
"Let us hope that doesn't come to pass," Bryce said, grimacing. "You are expected to be present and accounted for when we hold the Emergency Landsmeet at West Hills, and I believe there will be raised an issue for which your survival will be of paramount importance."
Loghain stared at him rather blankly. "What issue would that be?" he said. "I know you want me to remain Teyrn, but something tells me you aren't talking about that."
"Well, we here are all that remains of the Privy Council, and we have all but decided on Cailan's method of execution. We will need to put forth a new candidate for the throne."
Loghain shook his head just slightly. "You're the obvious choice, Bryce. You have Theirin blood, leadership experience… you're perfect. I wish now I'd never stood in your way when you put yourself forward for King after Maric…"
Bryce raised a hand. "I did not put myself forward, my candidacy was the idea of a number of my vassals. I stood for it only because I did think that, perhaps, Cailan was unready for the tribulations of the throne. I did not want the throne then and I do not want the throne now."
"But if not you, who will rule Ferelden?" Loghain said. The three men around him all looked at him and grinned. He looked at each of their faces and grew bright red. "Oh no! You're not pawning that shit on me! I refuse! You can't make me! I'm just a freeholder's son who was good at swinging a sword, I can't rule a province!"
"You did a damn fine job for the greater part of Maric's rule," Bryce pointed out. "We all knew that it was you, and not he, who was doing the real work of running the province for most of that time."
"Was it a damn fine job?" Loghain said, brows thunderous. "Not one bloody thing changed for the better, that I could see. The mages are still locked in prison, the elves are still hidden away in squalor, and Ferelden is still piss poor and bass ackward!"
"You have big goals, Loghain," Bryce said, chuckling like a tolerant father with a favored young child. "You can't expect to achieve all of them swiftly, or from the position of a Chancellor. You did very well with what power you had and what you had to work with. And we'll help you, of course."
"You'll stick your hand up my ass and work me like a puppet, you mean," Loghain said. "Why don't you tell me why you really want me on the throne?"
The three men looked at each other uncomfortably. "Well…" Bryce said, slowly, "You know very few provinces have one single standing army… Each Lord provides his own men, either hired or loyal to himself. But we have Maric's Shield, assembled by… and loyal to… you."
"And?" Loghain said.
"And, once they learn of Cailan's treachery, and the part so many other nobles played in it, I daresay they'll be feeling very unsettled in their minds about the state of the province. They may well rise up and put you on the throne. By violence."
"They wouldn't do that," Loghain said, but his face was pale. "They would know I'd never want that."
"It may be that they wouldn't care. They would want a strong leader who they could trust, who they felt would have their best interests at heart."
Loghain rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "So to keep the army from slaying you all, you're going to put me forth as your choice for next High King of Ferelden to make them happy. The traditionalist Banns will never stand for it."
"They will," Bryce said. "After all, you're married to a Cousland. That gives you a legitimate claim to the throne. She has the blood of Calenhad, though she isn't a Theirin directly."
"I knew that was going to bite me in the ass," Loghain groaned.
"Don't tell me you regret marrying my daughter?" Bryce said.
"I regret giving you so much leverage over me," Loghain said. "In any event, we can discuss all this later. For now, we need to move. I'll take what mounts we have that aren't afraid to face Darkspawn so that I can return to the main column quickly. Thank the Maker Stew-Bone is one of them. Any left over that can't be used for hauling will be sent back to stable with the ones that absolutely refuse to come near the Darkspawn."
"Thank the Maker the nuggalopes proved brave," Leonas Bryland said. "They can haul like draught horses."
"I don't think those things know the meaning of fear," Loghain said. He stood up, as best as he could in a tent, and headed for the opening. "I'm giving some thought to ways to defend ourselves from the Darkspawn," he said, before ducking out. "The older Wardens tell me Darkspawn absolutely do not will not cannot swim. Ferelden isn't much for moats, but perhaps we ought to consider them. Won't keep the Archdemon back, but it would give the army some breathing room from the 'spawn themselves, and it would protect the people. Then, too, we need to consider ways to bring down a dragon. Fighting it from a skiff doesn't really sound altogether feasible, though apparently that's what the gryphons were for, before they went extinct ages back. But a gryphon is a creature with a brain of its own, and a skiff's movement is completely at the mercy of its flier, so it's not really a comparison."
"West Hills is a good place to test the efficacy of a moat, if the Darkspawn do attack it," Wulffe said. "The fortress can easily hold the army and its bailey wall encircles the entire village. It's perfect."
"Assuming we could built a big, deep moat around the whole outer wall before the Darkspawn attack," Loghain said, "and assuming they actually attack us there. And if they were able to tunnel up from under the whole thing is moot."
"Moat could help keep the bloody Orlesians out, too," Leonas said.
"We'll need more than a moat to keep the damned Chevaliers away from our lands," Loghain said, his expression grim. "Thus far, I haven't seen that the Darkspawn are particularly sophisticated in their dealings with siege weapons. An ogre flinging a boulder seems to be the best they can manage, short of a bloody flaming dragon. The Chevaliers have the finest Asgardian siege weapons you can buy. A lot of them."
He headed out. When he did, he found himself face-to-face with the pretty young tavern girl from the local bar. With her, or apparently with her as she stood nearby, was another young lady who looked enough like her to be her sister.
"Were you looking for me?" he said, standing up to his full height.
"I… suppose I am," the young woman said. "I'm Felicity Hawke. This is my sister, Bethany. That young Breton man in the tavern said you would be interested in… powerful… support personel."
"Apostates," he said, pitching his voice not to carry. Felicity and Bethany both blanched, but Felicity nodded.
"We are that, my Lord," she said. "My mother is dreadfully upset with us. She said my sister has no business leaving home for some half-baked promise of security. I'm trying not to be hurt that she said not a word about me."
"You are the eldest, yes?" Loghain said. "Your sister is the baby, I presume?"
"My brother and sister are twins, actually, but Bethany was the last born," Felicity said.
"Parents, I've found, have certain expectations of their eldest children," Loghain said. "And their youngest will always be their baby. It's neither right nor fair, but it is the way it works out."
"Yeah, I suppose," Felicity said.
"You think she's bad now? Wait 'til she has grandchildren!" Loghain said, with a smile. "In any event, I hope you ladies have what you need – tents, bedrolls, et cetera. The army is packing up and moving on to West Hills directly."
"West Hills? Really?" Bethany said. "What if the Darkspawn attack Lothering?"
"They haven't yet," Loghain said. "And the people here have been thoroughly warned about the threat of the Blight, so hopefully they can marshal proper defenses – or get the helheim elsewhere before it's an issue. Lothering is not a defensible position for an army to post itself. Of course, if the horde does come here, so will the army. But we hope to draw the horde to us."
Hawke and Bethany indicated the packs on their backs. They were clearly not the expensive enchanted variety, which would hold virtually anything in their depths, but a more bulky yet accessible variety with bedrolls lashed to the bottoms. "We're all set to go," Felicity said.
"Good. I just want to ask, are either of you any shakes at healing?"
"We both know some healing spells," Bethany said. "Felicity is very good at it."
"Excellent. Apparently the Circle isn't any too fond of teaching its charges the healing arts. You ladies are very welcome here indeed. We've just got to keep you away from that old cow the Revered Mother Abilunda. I haven't seen her since Ostagar. Maybe she's gone back home to Denerim. You don't advertise your abilities by wearing those ridiculous robes, which is wise of you, so hopefully no one will notice those ludicrous staffs until we can figure out some way for you to focus your magic and target your spells that's a little less… obvious."
The young ladies looked at their staves with some shock, as if it had never occurred to them that carrying six-foot sticks with focusing crystals in the tips could possibly be a giveaway as to their abilities. Loghain shook his head. "Perhaps a similar effect could be obtained with a more… discreet model?" he said.
"I've… never heard of such a thing, but… perhaps," Felicity said. "It would be difficult to find someone able to make something like that, though."
"I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can come up with something," Loghain said. "There are Dwarves in my acquaintance, possibly they have some ideas about how it might be possible."
"Dwarves have no magic," Bethany protested.
"But they do know a thing or two about enchantment, I believe," Loghain said. "Possibly they understand how to create a small, powerful focus for magical power. In the meantime, I want you to stick close to the Grey Wardens. If it seems like you're part of them, hopefully people will leave you alone. I'll tell them to give you every protection as allies."
"Wouldn't we be safer with you?" Felicity asked.
He smiled. "I am a Grey Warden," he said. "But for a short time, I'll be splitting off with a few people and heading for a small town a ways from here to make certain it's properly prepared against what's coming. We've done all we can for Lothering for now. Honnleath sits right up close to the Wilds. If any place is in danger after Ostagar, it's those poor folks."
"I hope it's not too late," Bethany said.
"So do I," Loghain said. "Nothing we can do if it is, but I came through the Wilds a bit later than the army myself, and I saw few signs of Darkspawn, really. Hopefully the horde withdrew to lick its wounds, giving us a bit of time to act."
"What will you do if the village is under attack when you get there?" Felicity asked.
"The best I can."
Felicity hesitated a moment, then burst out, "Take me with you."
"What?" he said.
"I'm a healer. You may need that. And I can fight, too. Like the bloody Daedra."
"Felicity, it's too dangerous," Bethany said.
"It's an adventure," Felicity said. "Didn't you ever want to know what it was to really live, Sister?"
"I'll be happy to find out what it is to live long, Felicity," Bethany countered.
"Can you sit a mount?" Loghain asked.
"I haven't had much practice, but I've done a bit," Felicity said.
"Good, because I want to move quickly. Come along if you want to, you're a grown woman, but know that there's a big difference between reading about adventure and actually living it."
"Wait! Felicity, what about Mother?" Bethany pleaded.
"What about Mother?" Felicity said.
"We can't just leave her here in Lothering, all alone! What if the Darkspawn attack?"
"I'm sending some men and mounts back to Gwaren, along with some sappers to blow up the bridge that is the only way into the village from the west, across the White River. Provided the seals I placed over the Deep Roads entrance there remain intact, Gwaren should be safe enough. Send her there. She can stay at the Keep," Loghain said.
The girls looked at each other. "That… sounds good," Felicity said, a bit hesitantly.
"I'll send your brother the soldier along, as an escort," Loghain said.
"That would serve Carver right, for running off and leaving us to take care of Mother and protect ourselves in a village full of templars," said Bethany.
"If you don't want to come with me, Bethany, you could stay with the Wardens, I suppose," Felicity said.
"All by myself with a bunch of strange… I'm presuming… men? No thank you. I'll stick with you, Sister," Bethany said. "The idea of meeting a horde of Darkspawn with only a small force seems preferable to me, somehow, than being the only woman in an army."
"You would hardly be the only woman, but I understand perfectly," Loghain said. "In fact, there are several women in the Wardens, though I don't know how many will be staying and how many will be going with me. I will tell you, though, that the men in my army behave themselves around women, or suffer severe consequences."
"Well, I did notice that they haven't been too outrageous while they've been in town," Bethany said. "All the same, I'll feel safer with my sister, I think, in a small group, especially if that group has other women in it."
"Well, I was thinking about taking Warden Brosca along, she showed a lot of spirit when I met her, and at her Joining, too. I daresay a Dwarven woman wielding twin waraxes can keep a pair of mage ladies safe if their magic fails them," Loghain said, grinning. "And if all goes as hoped we'll end up with a golem, too. I'll set it for your defense."
"A golem? Really?" Felicity said.
"I don't know how likely that is, but it's a possibility. I have the control rod, the golem is supposed to be in the village we're headed to."
"Is that why you're headed there?" Bethany said.
"I wouldn't leave the army just for a golem," Loghain said. "But a golem and a bunch of people who probably have no idea what's going on at their very doorstep? That's a different matter. In any event, I have to organize my teams and who I'm sending where. We probably won't be heading out 'til mid-morning tomorrow. Go get things settled with your mother, get her packed up and ready. I'll handle everything else."
He strode off, for exactly three steps, until a tiny figure shot out in front of him and stopped short. "Loki! Maker's breath, Pup, don't do that. I nearly stepped on you."
"I'm going with you," Loki said.
He shook his head. "Absolutely not. Not when I have no idea where the horde might be. You're safer with the army. Stay with Cauthrien and Elilia."
"Elilia will insist on going with you," Loki said. "And the horde won't be anywhere near Honnleath. In fact, they won't be on the surface any time soon at all, not in any real force. They took a lot more casualties than the Archdemon expected. The ones in Ishal trampled themselves to death trying to push their way out, because they were too stupid to turn back when they found the way forward blocked. The Archdemon is going to take some time to pull back and recoup its losses. We have some breathing room. Not much, but a bit."
"Riding a horse for miles and miles is not really all that pleasant a thing, Pup, when you're not accustomed to it," Loghain said. "You'd be much more comfortable riding those miles in an army supply wagon."
"I realize that it will be painful, Papa, but I can handle it. There are… things… we can discuss, some important issues, along the way, far more efficiently and… privately… than we could if we took the time to speak of them now when you should be putting things in order."
"You are a persuasive speaker, Pup, I'll hand it to you," Loghain said. "All right, you can come along."
Loki nodded briskly. "Thank you, Papa. I'll be prepared."
Loghain spent the rest of the evening mustering soldiers into groups for transport. Some to take mounts back to Denerim, some to take them back to Gwaren (quite a few had come from his own stables there with the Gwaren regulars), and coordinating with sappers to blow up bridges on the way back to the main column, to cut certain locations off to the Darkspawn, hopefully. But of course, it was all for nothing if the monsters managed to tunnel up to those places from below.
Loghain wondered what stopped the Darkspawn from tunneling through the ceilings of the undersea Deep Roads right through the bottom of the oceans and flooding them. That would probably solve the whole issue of the Darkspawn and their bloody Blights, though it might be a rough day for what Dwarves still lingered.
Morrigan was the next to accost him, and she, too, insisted on coming along with his party to Honnleath, for what reason he could not imagine and she refused to say. He didn't tell her she couldn't, she was a grown woman, and her magic would undoubtedly be useful, but honestly he would have preferred she went her own way now that she was out of the Wilds and presumably safe from the Darkspawn. She was an unpleasant individual. And Elilia was right, she had a way of looking at him that made him feel uncomfortable, like a mouse before a cat. A hungry cat. A cruel, hungry cat that would torture its prey before devouring it.
Well, if such was her intention, she would soon learn that he was no mouse. He would avoid being devoured by simply ignoring whatever wiles she employed. It was beyond his reckoning why any young woman would attempt to seduce him, for any reason, but he was not a quivering adolescent any longer but a grown man – a married man, so help him. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been tempted by a pretty face and a nice figure, though they weren't typically actively pursuing him. Nord women were all bloody gorgeous, if a bit cookie cutter at times. In that regard, Elilia was more attractive to him than Morrigan, really, for she was more unique, with her strong features that were, perhaps, not entirely pretty from a classical standpoint. Aside from her admittedly unusual hawk's eyes, Morrigan looked like any number of perfectly-structured Vanir Nord women or Imperial humes, and wasn't terribly interesting to him because of how standard she appeared. Another man probably wouldn't have minded that at all, as evidenced by the popularity of "standard-looking" women in Asgard.
Morrigan, for her part, knew exactly what she was up to. It was all for the greater plan. While she could, of course, settle for a lesser subject, she knew her mother would be Greatly Disappointed if she did not succeed in drawing the attention of Loghain Mac Tir, who had so kindly joined the Grey Wardens and put himself in their path. While she found him rather an ugly man, from the neck up at least, put a flour sack on his head and he became quite acceptable. She would not mind this at all. Of course, Mother had told her he was widowed, not remarried. It was a complication, particularly since his ugly new wife was in company with him, but only a small obstacle, really. No man wouldn't leap at a chance to sleep with a seductive, beautiful woman. They were entirely led by what lay between their legs. So it had been, and so it would always be.
Of course, neither Morrigan nor Morrigan's most cautious and carefully plotting mother had factored Loki into the equation, and Morrigan was still unaware of the little deus ex machina. But he was aware of her. Very aware. And he was quite the little plotter himself. If Loghain proved unequal to the task of resisting Morrigan's dubious "charms," Loki had his own ways of ensuring her plans did not come to fruition. It likely wouldn't even prove difficult. Compared to the mountain of near-impossible tasks facing him, it was almost refreshing to have a duty that was so comparatively easy. He didn't even intend to broach the subject of Morrigan's schemes with his father. There was no need to burden him with them. He would be aware of her games, that was enough, he didn't need to know her ends. In all honesty, he felt that once Morrigan realized that her ends were of no particular value to her, personally, she would give up her schemes altogether. The best possible outcome.
Of course, that would make her mother very angry, and likely Morrigan did not want that. So Papa would probably have to kill Morrigan's mother, which was no easy prospect, even for Papa. Hmm, problems within problems…
Well, there was time to think about it, and Papa would likely come up with his own decisions on how to handle it. Very possibly he would come to the conclusion that Morrigan's mother should die, for the safety of the nation. Loki didn't know what she was exactly, but he knew she was indeed, very dangerous.
The next day, with the groups for Denerim and Gwaren already on the way and the army all set to head out, Loghain marshalled his own group at last and said they, too, were heading out. Among their number were the Hawke sisters, Morrigan, Loki, Zevon, Sten, Redcap, Jowan, Laz Brosca, Junior Warden Alistair, Senior Warden Temmarian, and, because she had insisted on it, Elilia. He hadn't really fought her on it, since Loki had already told him that the horde wouldn't be anywhere near Honnleath. That was the only possible objection he had to her presence. She seemed rather disappointed that he didn't raise a fuss with her, honestly.
He was bringing more people than he really wanted to. The Hawke sisters were one reason: they had specifically requested to come, and felt more comfortable around women, so he added Laz Brosca to the roster to comfort them. For that matter, they may even find Morrigan of some comfort, though that was hard for him to imagine. But he liked the spunky dwarf so he didn't at all mind traveling in her company. Some of the others, however… well, they were along either because he couldn't let them out of his sight, like the Sten, or because he felt they needed training. Namely, Wardens Jowan and Alistair were along because he felt they needed training.
He learned from Senior Warden Temmarian that Alistair had been a Chantry brat, rescued from the ultimate fate of lyrium addiction by Duncan when the latter recruited him away from templar training. So he wasn't thoroughly unlettered in the arts of warfare. But Loghain thought rather little of templar training, based on what he saw of templars in the field. The boy needed to know how to fight real monsters, not just frightened mages. As for Jowan, the Circle definitely never taught him to stand up for himself. Loghain didn't know how to fight with magic, but he didn't need to. Jowan already knew all the magic he needed to know. He just needed the confidence to wield it in battle.
He spared a thought for the new recruits. Out of the two score or so Blight sick soldiers the Wardens tried to save with their mine shaft Joining, only seven survived. Temmarian told him that was expected. The already sick were a poor pool to recruit from, as it was the naturally resistant that the Grey Wardens needed to find. Of course, anyone could become Blight sick at any time, so there was no sense in not trying. It was depressing. So many Fereldan soldiers were going to become Blight sick, and so few would be saved in any sort of way. And what salvation was it, really? Just a slightly slower death, unless you were lucky enough to strike the final blow against the Archdemon. He knew all the secrets of the Grey Wardens now. Or at least, all the secrets that Gregor and Temmarian knew. He knew he would probably never sire another child. He could live with that, though doubtless it would screw with Cousland's plans for the future. After he died Bryce could hook his daughter up to some other poor fool and get Cousland heirs to the throne that way. Just as long as Elilia did her duty and took care of Loki. Freya had little to no motherly instinct. Freyr would be a decent guardian but he would prefer the boy had a mother. He would never be one to denigrate the importance of fathers in a child's life but mothers were paramount, Odin definitely had that right.
He gathered the remaining mounts. Morrigan was affronted to discover that he expected her to ride to Honnleath.
"Unless you can fly, my dear, you had better resign yourself to riding," he said, with no humor whatsoever. "This green chocobo's name is Bond. He's very gentle and has a smooth gait. Provided you are not allergic to down, you should experience no great difficulty riding him, and he shouldn't chap your hindquarters as severely as a horse. Seeing as feathers are a part of the decoration of your… erm… 'garments,' I am assuming you are not, in fact, allergic to down."
Morrigan grumbled, making odd noises to the effect that she could fly, but for a few particulars, but climbed awkwardly onto the patient bird's back. She complained greatly about the indignity of being relegated to the back of a "ten-foot chicken" all the while everyone else was mounting up.
Alistair, also, had difficulties when presented with the fact that he would have to ride. Loghain had chosen for him a red chocobo, since the boy had proclaimed his love of chocobos, but actually face to face with the bird, the boy turned pale. "You… you want me to ride that?" he said.
"Can you run as fast and as far as a chocobo?" Loghain asked.
"Er, no."
"Then yes, I do want you to ride that. What's the problem? You said you love chocobos."
"I do! But I… I've never actually been… near… one. They're a lot bigger than I thought they'd be."
"Maker's balls. What did I do to deserve this?" Loghain said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Listen, Grunwold here is a good bird, he'll take it nice and easy on you. Just climb onto his back and hold on tight. All right?"
He expected similar megrims from Jowan, and perhaps from Brosca as well, but both of them saddled up without comment, though Jowan looked terribly uncomfortable astride his nuggalope. Nuggalopes weren't the most comfortable mounts, honestly, but they were extremely easy to ride, which Loghain thought was the best thing for a long-time Circle captive to deal with. Brosca looked comically small on her Fereldan Forder mare but sat the saddle easily. Clearly she had prior experience riding something. Loghain was quite pleased with the two of them. Brosca clearly would not have to be babysat, and it was a pleasant surprise to learn that Jowan was not the incessant whiner he had more than half expected.
Everyone else mounted up without incident, and Loki rode on Stew-Bone with Loghain. They headed out as the army began to march, and parted ways with the main column as they headed west to Arl Wulffe's holdings. Loghain and party headed southward, taking the most direct route to Honnleath, cutting through the Bannorn rather than using any roads. Traveling cross-country was always dangerous, but it was certainly faster. Chocobos were better at it than horses and nuggalopes but at least the only local burrowing creature, the Nug, lived in the deep subterranean areas so it was unlikely that one of their mounts would break an ankle by falling into a hole. Darkspawn tunneled, but those holes were by nature quite large, and if you fell into one of them you had bigger worries than an injured mount.
Traveling as the crow flies, and with swift mounts, they were able to make good time, but still, when they came upon a haven, they made camp, even though it was still relatively early. There was no guarantee they would come upon another before nightfall. The army traveled with portable lights that shone brightly enough to keep daemons at bay, but they had no such amenity. They were totally reliant on the mercy of the havens or their own strength until they rejoined the column.
Havens were spacious but it was still a tight fit for all the companions and their mounts and dogs. It was paramount that they all stay on top of the rune-covered rock, or they would be beyond the protection of the haven. The nuggalope especially made things tight, and Stew-Bone also took up a great deal of space, though at least he remained standing all night.
Morrigan was not happy with the sleeping arrangements. She made her tent as far away from everyone else as she could, but there was no room to get away from people and livestock on the little expanse of rock. The smell of the chocobos especially was horrendous. She would never get the stink of that green feathered beast off her clothes.
Loghain had a child with him. A complication unforeseen, even by her mother, apparently. A child and a bride. Apparently her mother was not omniscient after all. But perhaps ingratiating herself to the child would prove a way to ingratiate herself to the man. He seemed uncommonly fond of the boy. Of course, the child would prove an impediment in other ways, but he could be gotten rid of, temporarily or permanently, when the time came.
A lackluster supper was prepared, and Morrigan ate at the fire with the others, uncommunicative, planning. Surprisingly, the little pipsqueak addressed her openly, as if he knew not the meaning of fear. Did he not know she was a mage? Likely not.
"Did I hear you say you cannot fly, Lady Morrigan?" he said.
"It is a not-uncommon condition for people like ourselves, child," Morrigan said with mock sweetness.
"I can fly," Loki said. "I've never actually done it, but I know that I can."
"You can, can you? And how would you do this? By flapping your arms and thinking happy thoughts?"
"By turning into a bird and flapping my wings, of course."
"And you can do this, can you? Change shape?"
"Yes."
"Preposterous. The ancient art of shapeshifting is forbidden to tame mages, and you are little more than a baby. You haven't had enough time to learn such a skill."
"I didn't have to learn it, I was born with it. It's my biotic power. Just one of the perks of being a Nord."
Morrigan was taken aback. "Biotic shapeshifting? I never knew such a thing existed."
"It's pretty rare. There hasn't been an historical instance of another biotic shapeshifter for thousands of generations. But enough about me, what about you? Why can't you fly?"
"Flying… is not as simple as it looks. It is a learned skill, and quite a bit more dangerous to learn than simple walking."
"You chickened out."
"I did not 'chicken out,' you insufferable little twerp, I simply have not mastered it as of yet."
"Want me to help?"
"Help? Me? You?"
"Help. You. Me. Maybe Redcap can translate if you're still having trouble."
"I fail to see how a child could teach me anything," Morrigan said, elevating her nose in the air.
Instead of responding in kind, Loki transformed smoothly into a large, eagle-like bird. He spread his wings and cawed. "Follow me, Lady Morrigan, I'll show you how to get off the ground!" he said.
"You can… speak… in animal form?" she said, quite boggled.
"You can't?" Loki said, lowering his wings for a moment.
Morrigan shook her head. "When I transform, my thinking becomes very… primal, and I lose all ability to communicate as a hume. That is always the way, with magical transformations."
"Oh. Well, it's not that way for me."
He raised his wings again and pumped them, and soon he was in the air. He soared overhead, and just barely grazed the upturn of Alistair's hair with a fist-sized talon in a no-doubt deliberate display of playing to Morrigan's sensibilities. All the way the former templar trainee and the outspoken apostate had sniped at each other. Jowan looked on wistfully.
"That looks so… liberating," he said.
"Come fly with me… Morrigan," Loki sang, and did a most impressive barrel roll. "Fly high away with me… Morrigan."
Morrigan knew she was being reckless. She only had one avian form, a hawk, far smaller than the eagle form that the boy had assumed. If he chose to attack her once she transformed she would be at a severe disadvantage. And she had never managed to lift that avian form off the ground before, though she had tried. It was tricky, though the boy had made it seem quite simple, damn him. But she was not going to let some infant show her up. She gathered her mana and made the transition.
"There you go! Now, pump those wings!" Loki said, beating his own wings in a holding pattern so that he hovered a few feet overhead.
Morrigan flapped and flapped her wings, and found herself airborne. She screed her pleasure and shot off into the evening sky. Loki followed after, keeping pace easily. They did several circuits of the camp, then landed and Morrigan resumed her natural form.
"That was… so easy," she said. "How is it that I could not do it before?"
Loki had not yet turned back to his natural form, but he answered her anyway. "I'm just guessing, but I think that when you did it before, you were still a little girl, with little girl muscles. Even though your hawk form was adult, you weren't physically strong enough as you were to fly, like a baby hawk that can't leave the nest. But now you're a grown woman. You're more than strong enough."
"You are a little boy, yet you can fly," Morrigan said.
"My transformation isn't magical, so perhaps it works to different rules," Loki said, with a shrug of his wings. "Even if it doesn't, I'm a Nord. I may have some degree of biotic strength. I believe you may be a Nord as well, but if you couldn't fly previously, I think it is less likely that you possess biotic strength."
"I honestly don't know what I am," Morrigan said, with a toss of her head.
"Your mother doesn't want you to know. Your mother doesn't want you to know a lot of things, Morrigan. A lot of things."
"What do you know of the matter?" Morrigan said, more curious than confrontational. "And please transform. It is rather disconcerting to hold a conversation with a bird."
The eagle morphed smoothly into a little black-haired boy. "I know a great deal. I know what she sent you out to do. I know what she told you about it. And I know she lied to you."
"What do you mean, 'she lied?'" Morrigan said, her skin growing pale.
"She told you she would share Urthemiel's power with you. But she doesn't really share anything, does she? She never does. She takes the best things for herself and leaves you the dregs. Why wouldn't it be the same with this? You think you're not just a means to her ends? And when you've given her this incredible power source for her to feed off of, what will you be? Just a loose end. I don't know her like you do, but I highly doubt your mother will want loose ends laying about."
"How do you know this?" Morrigan said.
"My half-brother Zevon calls me the 'Little God in the Machine,' but I'm no god, just a little boy with…" his eyes flicked to the side momentarily and then back. "…Access."
"Access to what?" Morrigan asked, looking wary.
"Minds."
"You have access to my mother's mind?"
"No. But I know what's in yours. You deny it to yourself, but you already know everything I've said is true. She beat you down, so hard that you tell yourself your survival depends on doing exactly what she says, but you're not entirely broken. You know what she is. What she's done to you. She tried to take away your very last shred of self-respect. How angry it must make her to know that she couldn't quite manage it."
Morrigan looked at the boy sharply. He smiled. It was a very wolfish, dangerous smile.
"You're thinking now that I'm as dangerous as your mother. You're right, of course. I most certainly am, to the wrong people. You don't have to be one of those people, though. You're also thinking that I could be extremely valuable to you, if you could perhaps ensorcel me in some way, you could gain my power for yourself, in something of the way your mother looks to gain the power of the Old God. You can't. If the thought of how to do such a thing so much as entered your mind, I would kill you before you put it into action."
An empty threat, from any other small child. But Morrigan felt a cold chill in her spine. This little boy was not making an empty threat.
"I would listen to the lad," Loghain said. "He's killed before."
"I have," Loki said. "With my hands, and with my mind. I found neither method particularly difficult at the time. I daresay it will only grow easier as I mature."
"And, of course, any hostile move you made toward my son I would meet with my blade up," Loghain said.
"I have already rethought the idea of ensorcelling the young lad," Morrigan said, hands up in a fending gesture. "There is no need for violence. It is thoroughly clear that I am out of my element."
Loghain relaxed, a little. Loki's smile became sweeter and less wicked. Morrigan put her hands down.
"What can I do to protect myself from my mother's schemes?" Morrigan asked of Loki.
"First of all, put all thought of Old God babies out of your mind. No good can come of that. No good at all, for you or anyone. I don't know how your mother intended to contain that kind of power, but there is no way in helheim that you or I could do the same. Even in the best case scenario, Urthemiel would eventually rise again, become Blighted again, and cause another Blight."
"That… isn't good," Morrigan said.
Loki shook his head. "No, it is not. I have to assume that your mother knew some way to subvert Urthemiel's rebirth, probably by possessing the child and consuming his power within her own somehow. But even if we knew how she planned to do that, we would never possess that kind of power ourselves. I'm not entirely certain she possesses it, but she seems to think she does, which is terrifying even if she doesn't. There are few things with more destructive power than delusions, and she is certainly a force to be reckoned with even if she does have limitations."
"Do you truly think my mother could not do what she intended to do?" Morrigan asked.
Loki shrugged. "It's hard for me to say. I have not touched her mind. I was not with Papa when he met you, so I never met her, but I know from your mind that she is probably more than merely an apostate. What she is, I cannot say. An abomination of some sort seems likely, a conjoining of spirit and mage, but I cannot see where an abomination would ever be so powerful as to subvert the power of a god, even if Urthemiel was a false god as is now commonly thought. Whatever the Old Gods really were, they were certainly powerful, on the order of god-level. The Nine couldn't stop them from turning people away from them. I can't see anything less than another god being able to do what you mother expected to do."
"So… I don't let Urthemiel possess a baby. A Grey Warden dies. My mother kills me as a traitor. How do I benefit?" Morrigan said.
"Relax, Lady Morrigan. I will take your mother out of the equation."
"How will you do that? You just said she was a god."
"I just said she would likely have to be a god to do what she wanted to do. I don't honestly believe she is one. What's going to happen is, we're going to continue on to Honnleath, and then when we settle matters there, Papa and I will go to the marsh hut and settle matters with your mother."
"How will you 'settle matters?'" Morrigan asked.
"I'll kill her," Loki said.
Morrigan laughed harshly. "Easier said than done!"
"I know, she has killed many who have sought her life. But I will take her by surprise."
"Not likely. She is most likely hanging on every word you say, Little Man," Morrigan said, imbuing each word of the nickname with the status of an epithet.
"Unlikely, unless she is able to breach the psychic cone of silence I placed over the haven," Loki said. "If she can, she is able to do so completely without alerting me to the breach, which should be next to impossible. Magical scrying is brute force, and if she is doing it psychically, then her abilities are far superior to mine."
"Which is, of course, impossible," Morrigan scoffed.
"Not impossible, but the level she would need to be at to do so completely imperceptibly makes it unlikely in the extreme."
"I certainly hope you're right about that, Little Man," Morrigan said. "Else you stand no chance against her."
Morrigan seemed to lose her interest in the topic of her impending doom, or at least to find more interest in something else for the time being. "When you… transform… is any part of it unnatural to you? Or is it all purely smooth and functional?"
"Thus far," Loki said. Then he grimaced. "Well, that's not totally true. My eyes don't like to change."
"That does not strike me as extraordinary. The eyes are the beacons of the true soul. The only thing that would surprise me is discovering that you can change them at all."
Loki smiled. "Well, then prepare to be surprised. I can change them, but they don't like to change, and they don't like to stay changed. It's the only difficult change I've found myself making, not that I have a lot of material experience changing form at this point. They don't even wish to change when I transform into a creature that does not share a Nord's eye structure, like a spider."
"Now that is surprising. When I transform into a spider my eyes do change structure relevant to the species. Into any creature, though the color of my irises, if any, stays the same. I cannot comprehend an arachnid with eight gleaming swirling green eyes with starlit pupils."
"Looking at the world through eight Nord eyes is not a pleasant sight, either," Loki said. "Spider is not my favorite transformation."
Loghain raised his hand. "Question: When exactly have you been transforming into spiders, Pup?"
"Privately, in my room, mostly at night," Loki said. "I know you don't like spiders, Papa, so I made sure you'd wouldn't see. And I didn't just do spiders, I tried a lot of different forms. I wanted to see of what I was capable."
"You're scared of spiders?" Elilia said, looking at Loghain with a half smile.
Loghain looked disgruntled. "I am not scared of spiders. But they are repulsive. You cannot look at one objectively and tell me that they are not. Especially when they are bloated to a thousand times their natural size by the Blight. I had a bad experience in the Deep Roads."
"When were you in the Deep Roads?"
"During the Rebellion. I traversed most of Ferelden through the Deep Roads."
"For the Maker's sake, why?"
"Because I had to. We had to; Maric, Rowan, and I. And that damned Orlesian spy, Katriel, that Maric unfortunately was enamored of at the time. The army had been decimated at West Hill – Katriel's plan – and we had nothing but to tuck tail and run underground for Gwaren. How we survived as well as we did I'll never know, but meeting up with the Legion of the Dead in the end was a big part of it."
"Four people in the Deep Roads during a war for independence, one of them a treacherous spy, and a dangerous love triangle?" Zevon said. "There's a song in that."
"You won't be getting it out of me," Loghain said, frowning into the fire. If Zevon knew the truth of just how tangled that love triangle – quadrangle, actually – really was, he probably would write a song about it. A song just as sordid and jaded as the worst of his stuff. Not that his worst stuff wasn't pretty good, actually.
Loghain set a watch rotation, and everyone repaired to bed. Loghain himself took the last watch shift, so he and Elilia bedded down – alone, but for their dogs, as Loki decided he would bunk with Redcap in his quartermaster-provided tent. Elilia immediately cuddled up to Loghain as soon as he lay down.
"Don't you ever get too warm, sleeping all close like this?" he groused.
"It's Ferelden, and it's early spring. We're outdoors. It's fucking freezing. What do you mean 'don't I ever get too warm?'" Elilia said. "Didn't your first wife like to cuddle?"
"All the time, when I was home. I wasn't really home all that often I guess."
"Well this is only the third night we've had together, so I don't think you really should be complaining about my predilection for snuggling with you just yet. Sets a bad precedent for the future of our marriage."
"Sorry," he said, and put his arm around her. "I don't really mind, I just get too warm sometimes."
"Were you always that way, or did you become that way after years of living in Gwaren? I want to know whether I can expect to become inured to it over time."
"If your father has his way, you'll never set foot in Gwaren."
"What do you mean?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Your father and the Arls wish to put me forward at the Landsmeet as their choice for the next King, presuming Cailan is found guilty of treason, which is virtually a given."
She propped herself up on her elbow and stared at him wide-eyed. "Seriously? That's… fantastic!"
"It is not fantastic. It is heinous and despicable. It also may be necessary, as they say they fear Maric's Shield may rise in rebellion against anyone else they might try to put in that place. Little as I like to think it, after what Cailan did, they have a point. The army is going to be feeling very betrayed and very suspicious of the nobility."
"So you'll do it? You'll stand as King?"
"If they make me, I suppose I must. But Maker, I do not want to."
"Well, it will make Loki a prince like he's meant to be, if a slightly lower-class prince than he should be."
"I daresay that they will make it a condition of my ascension that any children born to me prior to my marriage to the Theirin-blooded Cousland heir I am married to now will be unable to inherit the right high holy Fereldan throne. I am, after all, peasant by birth."
"Like Calenhad himself," Elilia said, enraged.
"Like the furthest fathers of all noble houses, but they've all conveniently forgotten that. At any rate, Loki will still be in line for Gwaren, I expect, if he wants the damned Teyrnir. As far as I can tell, the other two don't really care for the idea. Freya might settle for it once she can no longer be Queen but perhaps she'd rather be my Chancellor or something like that, keeps her in the capital. She was never much for the quiet country life."
"What do you make of all that scheming he did tonight with your apostate?"
"It worries me."
"You too?"
"I always knew the boy had the ability to be a champion schemer, that part doesn't worry me at all. As far as his schemes to keep the Marsh Witch in line I think he's doing just fine. It's this thing about the mother that worries me. He said she'd have to be a god to subvert the soul of an Old God. He seemed to think it unlikely that was the case, but if I've learned anything in my time on Mundus, it's never to assume that you know anything you do not know about an unknown enemy. And if she does have anything on that level of power, then how can Loki and I hope to face her alone? The first time I faced her she handed me my ass quite easily. Taking her by surprise is a good idea, but how does one do that, exactly?"
"I have to suppose Loki has an idea on that," Elilia said.
"I surely hope so."
