A Fereldan Carol (A Dragon Age fanfiction)

Stave 5

Loghain got up off of his knees, looking around his chamber. He was alone. All the spirits had gone. The Loghain of earlier, the one who had existed before Maric's ghost had sat dripping in his armchair, would have pretended the spirits had never been there at all, and gone about his day, thinking nothing more about it.

Not now. Loghain walked across the room, throwing open the heavy damask curtains to view the grey light of dawn. It was a new day—not just for him, but for all of Ferelden. And there was no time to lose.

Energized, he threw off his nightshirt, getting dressed swiftly. His fingers shook with excitement, so that he could barely buckle his armor.

As he was moving swiftly through the palace, his daughter's maid caught up with him. "Sire," she said, "your daughter is asking for you."

Loghain stopped short. He couldn't see Anora yet. Other things had to be set right, he had to have something good to bring her when he went to apologize for what he'd done to her husband. "Tell my daughter I will come and see her later. I have ... much to do this morning."

The maid's eyes flashed briefly with something he couldn't define, but she bowed her head. "Yes, sire."

He strode through the puddles toward the Alienage. The Tevinters outside the ramshackle building looked surprised to see him, but he pushed past them brusquely. Inside the building, he looked immediately for the cage where Cyrion and the others had been kept. As he had expected, they were gone—the scene the spirit had shown him had been accurate. One of the Tevinters started to ask him a question, but Loghain ignored the man, hurrying out of the hovel and through the alleys to the room where the elves waited to be loaded onto the Tevinter ships. The mage in charge, Caladrius, looked up as Loghain came in.

"Yes, sire," Caladrius said impatiently, the honorific dripping with sarcasm. "The next shipment of gold is due to arrive tonight. We were just preparing the goods." He motioned to the cages lining the walls.

Loghain started to order Caladrius to let the elves go. Then he looked around him, noticing the sheer number of the Tevinters. What had he been thinking, walking in here alone? These men were never going to turn the elves loose on his request, and he had no backup.

"I want to review them," he said. "Get them out of there."

"You can review them in the cages just as well," Caladrius said, surprised.

"What's it to you?" Loghain snapped. "I want to see them out of the cages. One of them ... has some information I need, but I'm not certain which it is."

Caladrius shrugged. "As you will." He motioned to his guards to let the elves out. They shuffled forward, their eyes downcast, the picture of abject defeat. But Loghain knew not all of them were defeated. He looked for Elion, the brown-haired elf who had challenged Cyrion.

There he was, at the end. Loghain moved to stand in front of him. "Look at me, elf," he commanded. Elion looked up, his eyes smoldering with anger. "What kind of man sells his own people for money?" he asked, echoing Elion's words from last night. He kept his voice low, so only the elves on either side of Elion could hear him. "Sometimes even a black-hearted bastard can have a change of heart." Elion's eyes widened. "Will you help me?"

Elion's brow furrowed, and he shrank back slightly, as though expecting some kind of trick.

"I mean it," Loghain said urgently. "Will you help me fight?" He looked at the elves standing on either side of Elion, knowing they had heard the question. One, a red-headed man, clenched his fist, nodding slightly. The other, a blonde woman, looked at Elion in confusion, waiting for his decision.