Post by Admin on May 24, 2021 1:41:37 GMT
The murmuring of nobles echoed in his ears, his piercing gaze still steadfastly gazing up into the hardened eyes of the elf who had bested him in armed combat. He had seen much war and bloodshed in his life, and this elf had clearly known what it meant to endure hardship. He had not made it easy for the Grey Wardens to travel about Ferelden unhindered, after all.
"Finish it," his gravelly voice instructed in his typical, stoic manner, the elf's lips pursing as another voice intervened and she began to weigh her options. The strength this seemingly frail, elven woman possessed astounded him at the very least, his memories slipping back to the days before Ferelden had retaken its independence and identity from the choke-hold known better as the Orlesian Occupation.
Maric had been a paradigm of mercy and strength, someone on whom Loghain could rely and look to for light amidst the darkness of the world around him. What would that blindly-trusting man have done to him had he been alive and witnessed what Loghain had done, or hadn't done, to Cailan at Ostagar? Was the price of friendship and camaraderie ensuring Ferelden's security from Orlais, whom Loghain was certain was keeping an ever-watchful eye on the country that would not give in to its own despair?
"Maker have mercy on your soul, tainted as it is," the elf whispered quietly, her cold, green eyes focused solely on blue irises that more resembled ice than anything. The man at her side, Maric's bastard...Loghain could distinctly feel the approval of her decision emanating from the man. He had claimed that it was for Justice that this act was to be carried out, though Loghain was not deluding himself to think that the man's personal feelings were not involved. A man? Loghain sneered inwardly at the thought, this Alistair no more a man than Maric was clever.
"No!" Loghain's gaze softened once Anora stepped to his side, the torment present on her soft, pretty features.
"It is over, Anora," Loghain allowed his head to fall, Anora turning and quickly giving a number of reasons as to why his life should be spared.
The blade clinked once on the floor, the elf taking a step forward, her arms poised in mid-air as she continued to question her own decision at ending his life. "Is this justice, Loghain?" a familiar voice whispered into his ear, time slowing to a crawl as Loghain's heart sped. "Was it justice that drove Maric's blade through me, or was it loyalty to you and Rowan?" the voice continued with a bitter tone, Loghain looking up at the elven Warden, the sword slowly arcing towards him.
"You betrayed us, Katriel. Do not entertain the thought that I or Rowan had anything to do with your death. Maric knew what had to be done," Loghain answered just as sharply, the Warden's features shifting to that of Maric's Katriel, tendrils of blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and her green eyes sparkling with intrigue.
"You and I...we are not so different, Loghain. You betrayed your king to save your people from Orlais, as misguided as your intentions were," Katriel's voice continued, Loghain bristling but not betraying the emotion to his features.
"Your reasons were simplistic and selfish; we were fighting a war, and you betrayed Maric for your own gain," Loghain's voice dropped in decibel, his jaw set tightly.
"Oh? And becoming your daughter's regent was not personal gain? I do apologize," Katriel's voice was insincere and Loghain could little think of a retort quickly enough before the blade sliced cleanly through his neck, Anora splattered with the crimson residue.
"I loved Maric; you loved Ferelden, or so you'd have me believe," Katriel's voice continued weakly, no one hearing despite her speaking. "This is justice, Loghain. No more, no less. We are one and the same, though Maric was fool enough to trust you," Katriel's voice quieted once more and for forever, the elven Warden grimacing at Loghain's headless and prostrated body before turning towards Alistair and the rest of the Landsmeet chamber. Had Katriel's shade appeared out of guilt or memories more, none could say. It mattered little regardless; Loghain was slain, Ferelden with a King to guide its armies and an elven Warden to slay the archdemon when the time arrived. Sending a silent prayer to the Maker for Loghain's soul once again, the elven Warden looked to the wearied and quieted nobility of a battered Ferelden, a wan smile on her lips.
"Now, we march to battle with the darkspawn! We will be victorious!" the Warden hoisted the bloodied blade, brandishing the weapon as the rest of the nobles cheered their approval.
"Finish it," his gravelly voice instructed in his typical, stoic manner, the elf's lips pursing as another voice intervened and she began to weigh her options. The strength this seemingly frail, elven woman possessed astounded him at the very least, his memories slipping back to the days before Ferelden had retaken its independence and identity from the choke-hold known better as the Orlesian Occupation.
Maric had been a paradigm of mercy and strength, someone on whom Loghain could rely and look to for light amidst the darkness of the world around him. What would that blindly-trusting man have done to him had he been alive and witnessed what Loghain had done, or hadn't done, to Cailan at Ostagar? Was the price of friendship and camaraderie ensuring Ferelden's security from Orlais, whom Loghain was certain was keeping an ever-watchful eye on the country that would not give in to its own despair?
"Maker have mercy on your soul, tainted as it is," the elf whispered quietly, her cold, green eyes focused solely on blue irises that more resembled ice than anything. The man at her side, Maric's bastard...Loghain could distinctly feel the approval of her decision emanating from the man. He had claimed that it was for Justice that this act was to be carried out, though Loghain was not deluding himself to think that the man's personal feelings were not involved. A man? Loghain sneered inwardly at the thought, this Alistair no more a man than Maric was clever.
"No!" Loghain's gaze softened once Anora stepped to his side, the torment present on her soft, pretty features.
"It is over, Anora," Loghain allowed his head to fall, Anora turning and quickly giving a number of reasons as to why his life should be spared.
The blade clinked once on the floor, the elf taking a step forward, her arms poised in mid-air as she continued to question her own decision at ending his life. "Is this justice, Loghain?" a familiar voice whispered into his ear, time slowing to a crawl as Loghain's heart sped. "Was it justice that drove Maric's blade through me, or was it loyalty to you and Rowan?" the voice continued with a bitter tone, Loghain looking up at the elven Warden, the sword slowly arcing towards him.
"You betrayed us, Katriel. Do not entertain the thought that I or Rowan had anything to do with your death. Maric knew what had to be done," Loghain answered just as sharply, the Warden's features shifting to that of Maric's Katriel, tendrils of blonde hair flowing over her shoulders and her green eyes sparkling with intrigue.
"You and I...we are not so different, Loghain. You betrayed your king to save your people from Orlais, as misguided as your intentions were," Katriel's voice continued, Loghain bristling but not betraying the emotion to his features.
"Your reasons were simplistic and selfish; we were fighting a war, and you betrayed Maric for your own gain," Loghain's voice dropped in decibel, his jaw set tightly.
"Oh? And becoming your daughter's regent was not personal gain? I do apologize," Katriel's voice was insincere and Loghain could little think of a retort quickly enough before the blade sliced cleanly through his neck, Anora splattered with the crimson residue.
"I loved Maric; you loved Ferelden, or so you'd have me believe," Katriel's voice continued weakly, no one hearing despite her speaking. "This is justice, Loghain. No more, no less. We are one and the same, though Maric was fool enough to trust you," Katriel's voice quieted once more and for forever, the elven Warden grimacing at Loghain's headless and prostrated body before turning towards Alistair and the rest of the Landsmeet chamber. Had Katriel's shade appeared out of guilt or memories more, none could say. It mattered little regardless; Loghain was slain, Ferelden with a King to guide its armies and an elven Warden to slay the archdemon when the time arrived. Sending a silent prayer to the Maker for Loghain's soul once again, the elven Warden looked to the wearied and quieted nobility of a battered Ferelden, a wan smile on her lips.
"Now, we march to battle with the darkspawn! We will be victorious!" the Warden hoisted the bloodied blade, brandishing the weapon as the rest of the nobles cheered their approval.