Epilogue - Slings and Arrows

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

William Shakespeare: Hamlet

Loghain's last arrow joined the first three in a neat pattern on the target at the far end of the range.

"Good shot. Not bad for a man your age, Commander." Nathaniel grinned with unabashed glee when Loghain shot him a dark look.

"Archery is as much about experience as it is about a keen eye. Let's see you do better," he grumbled, secretly rejoicing at seeing his second-in-command so uncharacteristically relaxed.

The archery range at Vigil's Keep was set up right next to the orchards in the outer ring of the fortress's ramparts. On a clear spring morning like this, with the apple trees in full bloom, it was a pleasant place to be. Nathaniel and Loghain were on their own, with the other Wardens still asleep or at breakfast. They preferred it that way, both of them caring little for the enthusiastic audience that their skill with the bow would draw at a later hour.

Nathaniel's face was a picture of concentration, his focus completely on the targets, his stance carefully aligned. Stepping back a little, Loghain frowned, then reached out and gently touched the younger man's left shoulder, pushing it down just a fraction of an inch.

"There. That's better." Loghain watched with satisfaction as the arrow hit the centre of the target dead on.

Nathaniel smiled grimly and picked another one, but this time a shadow crossed his face right before he let loose, and he missed by several inches.

Loghain raised an eyebrow. "You were thinking about her." His voice was calm and uninflected.

Nathaniel glared at him angrily, then he shook his head and sighed. "Is it that obvious? Yes. She used to come here with me and watch me practise, you know. It made her-" He broke off, the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

I know. Loghain bit back the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. "Come on." He reached out to pat the younger man's shoulder. "Let's head inside. Time for breakfast."

The dining room seemed warm and stuffy after the time spent outside in the cool morning air. Loghain took in the familiar scene. Anders was seated next to Justice who had recently returned from Amaranthine. The two of them were talking quietly, their faces intense and preoccupied. Oghren was busy trying to cheer up Sigrun, who seemed sad and withdrawn.

Loghain glanced over at Nathaniel whose face had darkened at the sight of Anders, and he wondered, not for the first time, what he could do to help the young man come to terms with Morena's death and its aftermath. The effects of the blood magic she had used on him had dissipated within a few weeks, but Nathaniel's initial grief had given way to a bitterness that threatened to permanently mar his character. For a while, Loghain had hoped that he'd bond with Alistair over their shared fate, but the two of them had never gotten along, too caught up in their mutual embarrassment. When Alistair had left a few weeks ago, Nathaniel had just shrugged, the gesture making it abundantly clear that he couldn't care less.

They spent a boring morning in the library, going through the Keep's accounts together, trying to make sense of the numbers. Loghain groaned in frustration. They would need a replacement for Mistress Woolsey soon. With growing impatience, they were awaiting instructions from the First Warden in Weisshaupt, but so far none had arrived.

It came as a relief when a messenger from Denerim was announced. The man entered with a snappy salute and handed Loghain a letter from his daughter, Queen Anora.

Loghain waved him away, then turned to the letter. He quickly scanned the page and snorted, a sound halfway between amusement and annoyance.

"Good news?" Nathaniel, who had withdrawn discreetly to the window, looked at him questioningly.

"Anora is getting married. The ceremony will take place in two weeks. It seems they're eager for an heir."

"Well, Congratulations, then!" Nathaniel smiled. "Who is the lucky fellow?"

"Teagan Guerrin." Loghain shook his head. "Apparently her nobles think if they can't have Theirin blood on the throne, a Guerrin is the next best choice."

Nathaniel rubbed his chin pensively. "It makes sense, I guess. Marriage to his brother will guarantee her Arl Eamon's loyalty. And with the Arl's new wife producing one heir after the other, Teagan is no longer needed at Redcliffe."

"True." Loghain laughed mirthlessly. "If you ask me, Eamon wasn't too heartbroken when Morena's ritual freed him of that marriage. Isolde was too old to give him any more children, and with Connor a mage... Anyway, Teagan is a decent chap. A little old for Anora, but I guess they'll get along."

"And there are precious few suitable candidates her own age," Nathaniel pointed out. "Fergus Cousland might have been an option, but after what happened at Highever..."

And if things had been a little different and you hadn't ended up a Warden, she would definitely have considered you. Loghain didn't voice the thought aloud. No use discussing might-have-beens. "No, the Couslands still aren't on speaking terms with our side," he said instead.

Nathaniel sighed, a bitter twist around his mouth. "Well, I guess one can't blame Fergus. Bryce Cousland was my father's oldest friend. To betray him in such a foul manner..." He swallowed and looked at the older man. "Delilah told me about what they did to Eleanor and Megan. And Fergus' wife and son... Loghain, how could Father order such an outrage? And you... You're a man of honour! How could you overlook it? How could you be friendly with him after this?"

Loghain sighed. "Rendon was a ruthless man, Nate, ruled by ambition, but his strategy was sound. Killing Bryce and taking possession of Highever made him the most powerful noble of the North. I would have been a fool to antagonize him. Moral judgments didn't come into it, not with the Orlesians on our doorstep on top of the darkspawn threat." He shrugged. "The combined might of Amaranthine and Highever? I needed him. Politics are a dirty business."

Raising his head, he fixed Nathaniel with an unflinching gaze. "Honour, virtue, friendship... none of them count when a whole country is at stake. I have done any number of things I'm not proud of, because they seemed necessary at the time. If Morena had had me executed at the Landsmeet, no one would have blamed her."

"Morena! She of all people was hardly in a position to judge you. What did she know about honour and virtue?" Nathaniel's face showed the familiar mixture of anger and disgust at the mentioning of her name, and he turned away to leave the room.

Loghain felt a surge of fury. Suddenly he was tired of handling Nathaniel with kid gloves. Crossing the room with a few quick steps, he took hold of his shoulders and turned him around, forcing the young man to face him. "Look, I can see you're struggling with what she did to you, and I'm not trying to make excuses for any of it. But Maker's balls, Nate, get off your high moral horse! Morena was a fighter, a survivor. She did what she thought she had to do, and she never had it easy."

He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to shake Nathaniel. "You told me about the time when you came back from the Free Marches and found yourself poor, with no money, no family, nothing. For most of Morena's life, that was how it was for her. She was always out for herself. But she fought. She didn't give in. And look what she accomplished! The Hero of Ferelden, Commander of the Grey, Arlessa of Amaranthine. No one could do all that without dirtying their hands."

Nathaniel's shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, pain and betrayal written clearly on his face. "I understand, Loghain, I do. Maker knows I'm no saint myself." He swallowed. "But why... She could have been honest with me. She could have let me make my own decisions. I... I think I would have loved her anyway. I would have been at her side."

Loghain relaxed his grip and sighed. "Ah, but would you really? There are very few people who can face their lover's darker side, or their own, Nate. I don't think Morena was willing to take that risk."

"She trusted Anders." Nathaniel sounded bitter. "Why him, Loghain? Why him, and not me?"

Loghain smiled wryly. "Because she saw something better in you, Nathaniel. In a way, it was a compliment."

Nathaniel opened his mouth to answer, but then thought better of it. Loghain nodded. He's going to need time to think about this.

At the end of spring, finally a messenger from Weisshaupt knocked at the gate, carrying a whole bundle of letters and official documents. Mistress Woolsey had died as soon as she had set sight on the mountains of the Anderfels, a quick and painless death in her sleep. But the First Warden had a few choice words to say on Loghain's handling of the murders. Nevertheless he was confirmed as Acting Commander for the time being. A new treasurer would arrive in a few weeks' time. As for his suggestion to make Nathaniel the new Commander, it was summarily rejected. Weisshaupt didn't want a local noble in such a powerful position; he could read that easily between the lines. Instead, they were told to wait for a replacement from Orlais.

The words that crossed Loghain's lips when he read the message were not fit to be repeated in polite company. Once he had calmed down, he began to consider how to best deal with the situation in the coming months. Nathaniel would need something to do, he realized, some sort of purpose. In the end, Loghain put him in charge of dealing with the bandit attacks on the trade routes around the Keep. Morena had done a good job of keeping them in check, when she first arrived in the arldom, but during her last months, she had been too busy fighting off the Mother's troops, and the roads were far from safe now.

Nathaniel threw himself into the task with enthusiasm, and within weeks, the situation had improved considerably. Loghain watched with relief as the young man grew visibly more relaxed and confident with each passing day and each successful mission.

Summer brought several new recruits, among them Rolan, a former templar who watched Anders with a fair amount of suspicion. Not without reason, Loghain had to admit. When Anders had announced that he had agreed to be a living host for Justice's spirit, more than one of the Wardens had blanched in fear. Still, Loghain had underestimated both Rolan's fanaticism and Anders' desperation, and it took all of his political clout to deal with the fallout from their eventual confrontation. Several dead Templars, an apostate mage on the run... None of this was likely to endear him to either the First Warden or his daughter.

But at least Anders' departure turned out to be a blessing for Nathaniel. With the constant reminder of Morena's duplicity out of the way, the young man finally began to heal, even learnt to smile again. One day, Loghain came across him, and Oghren, caught up in a friendly banter.

"My brother used to drink like you do, dwarf." Nathaniel's tone was warm and easygoing, and Loghain hid a smile at the sight of the younger man, sprawled lazily on a bench in the hall.

Oghren burped with gusto. "Fun fellow to have around then, your brother."

Nathaniel made a face. "Oh, yes. He could find his fun almost anywhere. And then he would vomit on your shoes."

Loghain leaned in the doorway and watched the two of them laugh at the simple joke, a warm feeling spreading in his stomach. He withdrew quickly, before they could notice him and snap to attention.

A few weeks later, Loghain accompanied Nathaniel and his troop of guardsmen on a routine patrol along the road to Amaranthine. Their presence turned out to be a lucky break for a merchant who found himself under attack by a small force of bandits. The Wardens quickly took charge of the situation, their longbows making short work of the attackers.

When the last bandit had surrendered, Nathaniel set the guardsmen to help the merchant straighten up his overturned carriage. Loghain watched as the young man respectfully helped the merchant's aged mother to an improvised seat on an overturned tree trunk before smiling charmingly at her pretty granddaughter who was obviously smitten with her heroic rescuer.

The old woman looked up at Loghain with a grateful smile. "Your son is a fine young fellow, messere. You must be so proud."

Nathaniel's head flew up in surprise. Loghain met his gaze and saw tiny wrinkles of amusement appear around the younger man's eyes. For an instant, he considered correcting the old woman, but then he nodded. "Yes, I am, old mother. Very proud."

* The end *

A huge thank you to zevgirl for her help.

If you want to read more about Morena and her past, check out "I'll Always Come Back to You" (about her relationship with Anders), "Demons and Desires" (Loghain) or "That Extra Excitement" (various others). And if you're interested in Loghain and Nate's future adventures, there's a brand-new DA2 story titled "Choices" for you to enjoy.