Chapter Text
“Ah! Here we have the puppeteer!”
He pointed toward the elven warden who just entered the room closely followed by the bastard prince. He looked so much like his father that Loghain had no doubts about the nature of the relationship between him and the elf. She was as dark as Katriel was fair. She also was no match for the Orlesian bard’s beauty nor could her eyes be compared to the other woman’s seductive and mysterious green eyes, but Loghain’s exhausted mind kept flashing memories of the dead woman as if she had returned, wearing another skin, taunting him while on the edge of the precipice, about to lose everything. And he did lose miserably! No amount of lies nor charismatic speeches were sufficient, not even the threats and a tentative to seize the landsmeet by force had worked. It only led faster to what he knew was the inevitable: a dual against the warden.
“It is you or me the men will follow. So let us fight for it. Prepare yourself.” Warden Layel could hear the despair behind his commanding tone. She knew she had already won, and he was a dead man after the nobles determined his guilt by siding with her. What was about to take place was for show’s sake and maybe to avoid to the Hero of River Dane the humiliation of a public execution.
Loghain stared at the elven warden’s expression as she nodded and drew her twin blades. She polished one against the other in a showy manner. In front of the captivated audience’s eyes, one blade took fire while the other started radiating cold.
Loghain drew his sword and shield without taking his eyes off the young woman…Her serene face further stirred his rage.
Swift and nimble like a sword dancer, she dodged every one of his assaults. Taunting him only to slip out of his reach. His sword cutting through nothing but thin air as if battling a draft.
She wasn’t fighting, she was making a fool out of the old general, confined under his massive heavy armor. This realization was accompanied by a war cry and a particularly violent charge. She didn’t move until his shield was almost at her. The flaming sword was thrown high in the air and for a second this sudden move diverted his attention…A second was enough for her to touch his shield with her cold radiating blade, freezing it instantly, then she spiraled around dodging his shield bash as the flaming sword, she had caught in the air, came hitting his now frozen shield making it shatter like a cheap piece of glass.
He was still under the surprise of his massive shield falling apart when a thick smoke surrounded him. Unable to see her, he grunted and clenched his teeth, gripping his sword’s hilt with both hands waiting for her next stealthy move…She was the one leading the attack now.
Finally he felt her warm breath on the back of his neck, unfortunately, it was too late, for this sensation was accompanied by a lancinating pain on the back of his thigh, just above the knee. He winced and turned around violently swinging his sword to hit… nothing at all.
She had already moved out of his reach. He turned back and she was few feet away from him, hands down, her swords no more radiating heat nor cold. She looked at him as if it was already over. He moved but his injured leg didn’t follow. It felt numb, his knee gave up, and he soon found himself kneeling on the ground, leaning on his sword.
He panted, eyes wide in disbelief. It was already over. And he lost. Everything.
Every soul in the room held their breath.
He finally looked up at her and her unmoved face. No smug expression no smirking, no hatred, not even satisfaction…Her lips briefly moved and he thought hearing a low whispered ‘Yield’
And he did just that, stroking her ego with words about how he underestimated her strength, comparing her to the late king. Not that she seemed to care, but his words were meant to ease her task would she ever consider sparing his life. She looked at him, emotionless and nodded; she had heard his final plea for his life and understood it for what it was.
He shut his eyes tight and grimaced. The numbness in his leg was spreading and him starting to feel light-headed and nauseous..Maybe she hadn’t severed his head yet because she intended for him a slow and painful death by the poison she coated her blades with. Nothing he didn’t deserve if she had truly chosen this ugly death for him.
Layel sheathed her swords and called for senior enchanter, Wynn. She whispered something into her ear. The old mage, first surprised, nodded and cast a spell to heal the kneeling Teyrn.
“I accept your surrender,” Layel announced to their audience.
Alistair’s fury came crashing into her ears, harder than expected. “…Kill him already!” He shouted.
She remained silent, waiting for Anora to come with an idea to save her father’s life. Instead, Riordan stepped in and suggested to make Loghain a grey warden:
"The teyrn is a warrior and general of renown. Let him be of use.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Riordan!” Layel whispered.
“Then why did you accept his surrender?” Alistair yelled
“I was hoping that his daughter will see his retirement to a quiet place…Far from politics and from us,” the warden hinted to the silent blonde woman…For someone as eloquent as her, she was too silent when her father’s head was at stake
“I doubt that it’ll suffice to keep a man such as Loghain from interfering with politics and Anora has proven that she held no authority over her father, it’s quite the contrary, warden.” Eamon stepped in, “the main charge against him is high treason. His execution isn’t merely a punishment, but a necessity to reunite Ferelden after the civil war he led us into.” Eamon’s words and Anora’s silence made it clear for the warden…Tonight, Teyrn Loghain was either dining in hell or at her table. No half solutions, no in-between.
“I’ve heard that the joining is often fatal, isn’t it? IF he survives, he’ll be under your authority and the supervision of the grey wardens” Anora reasoned.
“Becoming a grey warden is an honor not a punishment! Name him a warden and you cheapen us all!”
“Not sure if I can handle this, Riordan! Nor am I sure of his loyalty” the warden sighed.
“What’s loyalty? You know well that we’re all bound to darkspawns by the taint…Should he leave he’ll soon enough find himself in the deep roads to seek them or they’ll be the ones seeking him”
“That was not what I meant…He and I… it became pretty personal over the course of the last year. Should I allow him near me?”
“I cannot stipulate on this, warden…the final decision is yours”
“You accept him as one of yours, warden or he’s to be executed without delay. What do you choose?” Umboldened by her reluctance, Eamon urged the elf to take a decision.
Layel glanced at the disgraced Tyren who has just lost everything, then to the nobles, almost all of them eager to see him dead, waiting for the elven warden to dirty her hands with his blood.
Against all good sense she said:
“Make him a warden, I’ll take him”
Alistair’s enraged voice exploding in her ears like thunder, he was leaving the wardens and marring Anora in retaliation. Layel nodded. Her unmoved response absorbed some of his anger “It’s for the best. The only heir to the throne has no place on the battle’s front line”
After Anora came carrying the news of her father’s successful joining, Layel had to endure the silent treatment from her companions. She understood their anger. Loghain had put a bounty on all their heads, hunted them like animals. She herself, wasn’t thrilled by the idea of their future collaboration. She wished there had been another solution to keep him alive.
As much as she considered her friends silence as a blessing, given the circumstances. There was another conversation she dreaded, the one that, former foes becoming allies, had to undergo before leaving Denerim.
*******
He spoke first when she entered the room.
“I passed your test. Fate has a twisted sense of humor it seems.” He broke the silent stares they were exchanging. But the elven warden kept silent “I suppose you think I’m some sort of monster, more so since I survived your ritual…You keep striking at me and I just refuse to die decently” Nothing like a hint of self-loathing humor to break the ice.
“I don’t think you’re a monster…” She finally said.
The man was shrewd and told lies with a skillful ease. She heard him at the landsmeet. Lies about her being an Orlesian spy apart, he had blatantly claimed that he didn’t send the blood mage to poison Eamon and added “I’d have sent one of my soldiers” Had she been one of those nobles who never met Jowan, she’d have believed Loghain right away. The fewer words exchanged with Loghain, the better.
“You’re a poor liar, you know. It’s kind of you to say so all the same” Loghain replied, examining her calm face. Trying to read it.
“We’ve to settle things between us or neither of us will get any work done…So what’ll it be?” He firmly asked.
“You’re a warden now,” She abruptly said.
“Is that punishment meant for me or for you?” His humor barely hid his arising irritation. He looked at her pretty face. She chuckled. But her body was closed and facing away from him. Her black hair severely tied in a tight bun. A thick fringe hiding her forehead and eyebrows. Arms crossed over her chest. Strange violet-red eyes avoiding his own and staring at the fire light.
“And just like that we’re allies!” he reached carefully with his hand, barely touching her chin to turn her face toward him. Big, red irises stared at him with raised eyebrows. Bold to touch the warden! But she seemingly wasn’t angry.
“I don’t know what concessions you want from me Warden! I suppose my word will not satisfy you.” He was direct this time.
She kept staring at him for a while then she finally sat so he did the same, carefully studying her movements. Far from nervous, she acted as if the palace belonged to her.
“You called me pretty at our first meeting in Ostagar and now, touching me without my permission. Do you allow yourself such familiarities with every woman you meet or is it just me?” Her first question scattered his focus and took him off guard.
“I was unware that such mundane acts caused you so much distress! It won’t happen again,” What he meant to be cold and concise, came out rather harsh and sarcastic…As if hinting to her misadventure with Vaughan and betraying an animosity far greater than what he let show.
He had to gather his thoughts.
“Can I ask you some questions?”
“Very well, we are here for this after all”
He had prepared answers for each one of the charges laid against him:
Ostagar; Cailan’s fault! And maybe a little tactical miscalculation on his part
Eamon poisoning; It was his word against some young blood mage’s word! And also partially, Eamon’s fault for hiding his mage heir…
Slavery; seriously,elf! So egotistical to suppose it was keeping him up at night! Only chance for the elves to survive the blight -a blight he wasn’t even taking seriously few days ago- and a fine source of financing for the upcoming war. A win-win deal! How dare she even stop it!
Accusing the wardens; A tragic misunderstanding caused by their ties to Orlais, thus it was also their fault
Civil war; It wasn’t he who started it…So, totally not his fault
Howe: His actions were his, actions which only the Maker can judge him for! Not to mention how dishonorable of her, he thought, to slaughter him on his own house!
No surprises. Same answers he gave at the Landsmeet. Although, after he had proceeded to lay the responsibility on everyone, he had added an emotional “All of this can rightfully be called my fault. Whether or not you can do better remains to be seen. But if you can make this the end, Warden, I’ll follow you, I swear it!”
She had to quickly process all he had said. Despite the civility he was quite hostile, which was normal for a man who, two days ago, refused to accept his defeat until forced to his knees by her sword.
But mostly, he was; unrepentant, shameless, and unapologetic.
He also lost his temper when asked about slavery…It struck a nerve, it triggered some shame if not guilt, and led to the most hostile answer she had heard from him, till now.
“What I’ve heard from you is sufficient! I made up my mind and I know where you’ll be the most useful to me in the upcoming war,” she spoke, looking him straight in the eyes. “…In bed,” she added without blinking.
“Is this supposed to be a joke, warden?” Irritation and feigned amusement to hide the dread in his voice.
“Not at all!” she didn’t flinch, “Ostagar and the civil war that followed were your failure as a strategist. Even if the original plan was to turn Ostagar into a grave for Cailan and seize the throne for your daughter, it was a grotesque, butchered failure, that even she had to distance herself from,” the warden rose from her seat “And for having tested your mettle first hand, you’re an average warrior; too slow, too unfocused…I still hope you’ll show better skills in bed.”
Loghain’s stupor evaporated at her last sentence. He jolted out of his chair yelling, “Are you out of your damn mind, elf!” Face twisted in anger he added, “How dare you suggest this…!” His voice vibrated low and she found it amusing that even after what she had suggested, Loghain was still holding himself.
Layel shrugged nonchalantly:
“You’re a spoil of war, Loghain. Stripped of titles and riches, you’re as good as any of those you were selling into slavery. The price I paid to have you was a dashing future king and a valued companion!” She lied.
His brow furrowed, his shoulders fell in defeat. She wanted him to be a temporary replacement…So ironic…So familiar.
His wounded expression, the warden wasn’t sure if real hurt or deceit. He switched instantly to a more stoic face and spat: “Well you can thank me for that later!”
“Oh I intend to!” she nodded “…And sooner than later”
Loghain fell silent, speechless for a moment, observing her. His shock, his awareness of his new situation, and the power she held over a man such as him made her blood fill with satisfaction.
“And now, what! Am I to be the defeated enemy you drag on a leash? Worse, Am I to become your personal..amusement! I refuse to be subjected to such humiliation! ” he stated firmly. Hands curled into fists, he made his last plea.
The warden moved closer to him. Her hand touched his armored chest. Short and thin, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder
“This is by no mean a humiliation. Consider it as a token of your loyalty that I need to have,” she whispered softly. She was infuriating, but her smell, her eyes and her raspy voice, from such a close distance felt almost dazzling…Or was it the darkspawn blood inside him, heating his own blood and speaking new fantasies…repressed ones, into his mind?
The warden had a point. He did escape death by throwing himself at her feet. She accepted his surrender, stood between him and Alistair’s blade. Eamon, as well, was burning with the desire to see him and his daughter both executed, but the old Arl was too diplomatic to let his thirst for revenge show. Anora’s wedding to the bastard prince was yet to come and till then, the warden was her strongest ally. A woman who commanded to an army of Dwarves, Dalish and mages, could certainly afford to order a disgraced Teyrn to do whatever she saw fit.
“Besides, you’re the type who holds grudges. And I suspect that you have got a huge one towards me…It should be addressed and taken into hands,” she casually affirmed. Her hints amused him she could tell. Under his thick shell, he was far from cold and stoic. Her lips parted slightly as she imagined what kind of ministration such a manly and commanding general would give in bed.
“You’re half my size, Warden!” He leaned over her, one of his big hands hovering over her head and face, to make his point, yet never touching her. “How are you exactly planning to submit me in bed when I can easily split you in half?” He whispered with a low deep voice. “I’d have to be very cautious not to crush your delicate bones in my embrace.” The anger and irritation in his voice made his statement more menacing than anything else.
The warden’s dark eyebrows raised in amusement. Loghain was already giving her the bedroom talk! A barely hidden threat in fact, and an attempt to turn the tables. Typical!
“I’m sure you’re going to be a good boy,” she said with an amused yet unshaken voice. Head tilted back to look at the much taller man, her warm purple eyes shamelessly scrutinized his face and fearlessly gazing into his icy blue eyes.
The level of survival and ability of this man to adapt to any situation was amazing, she thought.
Howe’s final words arose to cloud her mind and her mood. His defeat at the hands of one he considered lesser than himself was so unbearable that he never yielded till his last breath. Vaughan, was the cowardly type, tried to bargain for his life with coins. Even at her sword’s mercy, he still thought himself her better. Talked to her like one talks to a drooling toddler.
Loghain, on the other hand, and despite what he did, never gave her the feeling that he thought her lesser…Since Ostagar.
She felt her resolve weakening.
She wasn’t the strategist type. She planned battle by battle and never a step ahead.
The bedroom slave proposition was born in her head as she realized how much of a control obsessed guy Loghain was. Him, and only him knew what was good for everyone.
She wanted him to lose the control. He might see it as an elaborated scheme to humiliate him but it truly wasn’t. Just an impulsive idea in a girl’s crowded head that she couldn’t take back anymore.
Layel swiftly moved away from him. Hiding whatever uncertainties made their way to her face.
“I’ll wait for you tonight, in my room. If you do not come, then I’ll know that you chose to stay in Denerim at your daughter’s side, same as your future son-in-law chose to do, and accordingly, I’ll be leaving without you in the morning”
Facing him became impossible after this blatant coercion. She turned her back and head to the door adding “The choice is yours,” before leaving the room and the man behind her incredulous and wondering if all of this was nothing but an hallucination created by his exhausted mind.
Man like him do not get coerced for sex, especially not by women like her, but the warden, they said, had the power to make the impossible possible.