Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age, or any of their 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: May contain spoilers for 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. Song lyrics included herein were used without permission.

Chapter Three: Surprise Attack

Time passed, and Loki remained a silent, mostly inert lump that Loghain worried about incessantly. He grew at a good pace, but he did not develop in any significant way. There was no denying it, the boy was stunted in some way. On the other hand, Loghain's health and physical being improved greatly, because he was actually sleeping well most nights. Now that it had begun that rusty purring was a constant, though only when Loki wished to sleep. It seemed to be a form of self-soothing that the boy activated at will. Why it spilled over into Loghain's mind was uncertain, and hard to fathom by any measure, but it seemed more and more certain as days went by. It was probably not deliberate, but the effect was undeniable, and undeniably welcome. He hadn't slept so well since he was a very small boy himself.

Still, he worried. The boy was now very nearly a year old. He should be doing something. Rolling over on his own. Crawling. He could hold his head up, there was that, and he could sit up with assistance, but beyond that… bupkiss. He didn't clap his hands, he didn't babble nonsense. He didn't even glom onto objects with his mouth in order to inspect them. When presented with something new he would eyeball it, seemingly carefully, and then typically drop it.

In Kingsway, about a month before the boy's first birthday, Loghain placed the boy in the middle of his room and left him for a moment to attend to something else. He was gone only a few seconds, but when he returned, the boy was not there. He did not immediately jump to the conclusion that the boy had crawled away somewhere. No, he immediately concluded that someone picked his son up and walked away with him.

Half-panicked already, he turned fast on his heel and started for the door, almost running over the small person standing immediately behind him. It was Loki. Standing. Unsupported, his legs straight and not bowed like an ordinary infant unsteady on his legs. He wasn't unsteady at all. He stood there, hands together before him, looking up at his father with solemn intensity. Loghain's eyes bulged in their sockets.

"Pardon me, but I wonder if I might trouble you a moment."

No babbling, no hesitating, just clear, high, piping speech. Loki was talking.

"Wh – uh, of course, Pup. Go ahead."

"I was rather hoping you might teach me how to change my own nappies. It is unpleasant laying about waiting to be changed."

"You could always tell me when you need changing," Loghain said, eyes widening further.

"I shouldn't like to bother you. I know you are often busy."

"I've… got time for you, Pup. Always."

"It is appreciated. However, I should like to learn to be self-sufficient."

How does he know these words? Loghain wondered. Out loud he said, "If you wish to be self-sufficient, then I should teach you how to do without those wretched nappies altogether."

"That would be wonderful. I have always felt it was rather barbaric to mess one's self at will."

"Follow me. I'll show you to a little innovation known as the chamber pot."

Loki cottoned on to the concept of the chamber pot quite quickly, but he found it nearly as distasteful as messing himself. "There's really no better option than this? I do hope someone comes up with something better soon. It seems quite savage."

"Sorry, Pup. It's the best we can do."

"Well, then I shall make do until something better comes along. Perhaps I myself might come up with a better concept someday. My mind is rather too full, though. It is difficult to parse my thoughts. Actually pondering a problem such as this may be beyond me."

"Too full? What do you mean?"

The little boy grimaced in a frightfully grown-up way. "There are… thoughts. Chasing themselves through my mind. I cannot sort through them. I cannot hear them properly. It is simply… too loud."

"Is that loudness why you have always been so quiet?"

"No. When I was with the healers I would cry when I was disturbed in some regard. They would attend me with apparent ill humor when I did so. I learned they were much better behaved when I simply waited quietly for them to attend me on their own time."

"And how long have you been… thinking of attending yourself?"

"Quite awhile. I have, however, been rather limited in my abilities."

"And when did you discover that you… were no longer limited in your abilities?"

"Unfortunately, I still am, to a great extent," the little boy said, with a moue of disgust. "With a bit of diligence, I have gained strength. I have a long way to go, though."

"When exactly did you learn to speak?"

"I am uncertain when I became capable of vocalizing. I have understood speech for most of my existence. I cannot, however, read, although I understand the concept. I should very much like to learn."

"I'll teach you," Loghain said, after swallowing a hard lump that formed in his throat.

The boy nodded. "Thank you. I would most appreciate that." He then turned around and left the room, disappearing into the Keep to parts unknown.

Loghain staggered to the nearby wingback armchair and collapsed into it. A dream. It had to be. A Fade dream, a little more vivid than most. Demons, messing with his mind over all his worries about the boy. In a little while he would wake up and everything would be normal.

Normal.

What the bloody fuck was normal?

Well, it certainly wasn't an eleven month-old who walked and spoke like a very bright and well-educated ten year old, and after ten solid months of nothing. Although… it wasn't like Loki had given zero sign of intelligence. In fact, Loghain had taken the impression from the beginning that the boy was uncommonly intelligent. Perhaps he was guilty more of underestimation rather than overestimation.

Loki did things… at his own pace, whether that be faster or slower than others thought he "should" do them. And that was just fine. That was his "normal." Who was anyone else to suggest there was a standard baseline to which he should adhere? Loghain began to feel that he had his feet under him again, but he still felt he needed a stiff drink. His eyes wandered to the nearby sideboard. There was an array of crystal cut decanters on it, and empty glasses standing sentinel. Just one drink, to settle him. He reached for the whiskey, then hesitated and reached for a different bottle holding clear liquid instead. He poured himself a glass with a hand that shook just slightly.

The smooth knock of illegal Wyvern's Ridge moonshine hit hard and solid, as always, and he settled back in his chair with the glass pressed to his brow. He didn't even consider finishing his drink. It would only impair him, and he didn't need that. He just needed a bit of bolstering. He didn't like being taken by surprise, to say the least, and this definitely took him by surprise.

He supposed he should track down where the child went, make sure he wasn't getting into anything he shouldn't, that he was safe. He was surprisingly unconcerned about it. The boy wouldn't get up to anything dangerous. He knew better. Loghain had no particular reason to believe that, but he did. Even though the boy's apparent desire for independence could easily lead him to try something dangerous, he simply knew that the boy would not. Loki knew his limitations.

He raised the glass and toasted the air with it. "Here's to those that know their limitations," he said, and poured the remainder of the drink into a crystal ashtray and set the glass aside.

A/N: Many thanks to Melysande, who has been kind enough to review this work thus far. Reviews are always good!