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Rowan viewed the camp with an unhappy grimace as Loghain tore into the group of Night Elves. The men were located on the camp’s outer perimeter, where they practiced every day, and the squad of Elven archers weren’t happy with Loghain’s dressing down. In fact, many of them glared at him as he barked orders and instructed them on how to hold a sword properly, while others cast sullen glances in his direction and openly defied him by reminding everyone they were archers, not warriors.
Though Albert, Loghain’s second in command, did his best to ease the tension, he was unsuccessful in swaying the men from their anger.
Rowan ignored the group, choosing to take the opposite path to circle her back to her tent. She didn’t want Logain to see her. She didn’t want him to know she was observing him. In fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid him ever since he’d reaffirmed his affections… and she’d said nothing in return.
Since his confession and her rejection, Loghain had worked himself to death, training the men from dawn to dusk and well into the night. The men had grown increasingly agitated and vocal and had even thrown angry glances her way as if they knew she was the reason for their punishment. But Rowan feared that if she spoke up on behalf of the troops, it would only make things worse between her and Loghain.
And it wasn’t even her fault. His confession had taken her by surprise, and before she could form words from thought, before she could even decipher he’d been serious, he’d left before she could utter a reply. And that was an entire week ago.
Counting the steps to her tent, Rowan figured she had another day before she would have a full-scale rebellion on her hands. When Loghain came into view, she caught his gaze. He barely paid her a moment's glance before turning his attention to the men.
“Listen carefully and listen well. We’re fighting for our right to walk about as free men. We’re fighting for our right to breathe the air as free men. We fight for our future - for Ferelden’s future. Every battle brings us closer to liberation. And like every battle, it comes with its own risks. We cannot lose any more men. We’ve come too close to die at the hands of our enemy.”
It was hard for Rowan to be reminded of precisely what was at risk. The Rebel Army was growing in numbers daily but it never seemed like enough. For every man they gained, two more were lost or injured. At times, even she doubted if their cause was just, but her faith left her feeling ashamed. She should have more confidence in the Maker.
Loghain continued to berate them, pointing out their flaws and weaknesses. He addressed their lack of discipline and reminded them what was at risk. “You’re not putting in enough effort,” he hissed loudly at one of his men. “You’re fighting like a woman.”
The last line drew Rowan’s ire, considering she fought better than most of the men. She stopped in her tracks and turned back to face Loghain. The last time she checked, it was she who single-handedly rode through enemy territory to rescue Loghain and Maric from sure death. So now, it made no sense for him to insult her sex when drawing the attention of his men.
Again, he noticed her and paid her no heed.
“We’ll start with the sword then switch to hand to hand combat,” Loghain continued. “Remember, if you lose your weapons in battle, you must rely on your wits. That means using whatever is around you and relying on your hand on hand skills to keep you alive.”
Gesturing to a young archer of two and twenty with long, blond hair, Loghain threw him a sword. The poor man looked warily and glanced past his shoulder. Annoyed at the younger man’s apparent lack of discipline, Loghain turned around with a nasty growl to find Rowan staring back at him as if she were an animal caught between two hungry wolves.
And then she cursed. Silently, of course. But in doing so, her face contorted into a disapproving frown, which Loghain took as a personal insult. His gaze narrowed. Heatedly. Impatiently. Then he scoffed and turned his back to her. Dismissing her completely.
“We’ll do it again and again until you get it right,” Loghain muttered to the blond man as he handed a shield to another. He was itching for a fight, and Maker help whoever got in the way. “Do not disappoint me today.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Rowan said with heavy sarcasm. She reached forward and curled her hand around the hilt of the sword he held. Her gray eyes darkened like a storm cloud. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
Surprise glinted in Loghain’s eyes a mere second before a blistering heat settled in. His breath slowed, his heart pounded. He’d not seen her for the past seven days - not that he was counting. But to have her so close, to be able to smell her, to touch her with his eyes, made the painful reminder of her rejection even more unbearable. His mood turned black. He would be relentless today.
“Don’t expect me to go easy on you because you’re a woman,” he said. More harsh than he intended.
Rowan scoffed. “Ah, spoken like a true Orlesian.”
He shook his head then raised his sword. “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready. Hold nothing back.”
Rowan met his attack with the grit of a seasoned warrior, and he grunted to block her forceful swing. She was strong for such a tiny thing, having trained to be a warrior since she was a babe. She moved her sword with the effort and grace of a painter and the deadly skill of an assassin hunting its prey.
Using his strength, he pushed back with all his might and charged forward as she staggered back a few steps. “How many times must I remind you to use your speed, Rori?” Loghain stated right as he swung. Victory and overconfidence glinted in his eyes.
Rowan rolled out of the way, scrambling to her feet just in time to deflect another blow. “And how many times must I remind you to think before you strike?” She stated, right as she punched him twice in the side and swiped her feet underneath his. She kicked his sword out of his hand, the metal clattering to the ground with the loud echo of pure humiliation and defeat.
Loghain fell unto his back. The breath knocked out of him. Maker’s Breath - the chit had kicked him, hard, on the side. He thought she might have broken a bone. “What in the void Rori? We’re training. Not trying to kill one another.”
“It’s not my fault you let your guard down.”
“That was cheating,” he grumbled, checking his sides to make sure all bones were intact.
“That was me using my wits to stay alive,” Rowan countered. He grunted, and she gave him a triumphant smile before turning to their audience. “Take note, gentlemen. In training, we have rules and parameters. But battle is anything but that. If you play nice, if you play by the rules, if you hesitate, then you might as well write your final letters because that’ll be the last your family hears from you.”
Rowan turned to Loghain, who’d raised himself unto his elbows.
“You were too quick to claim victory,” she said. “Had this been a real battle, you would be dead.”
He raised an eyebrow in question. His gaze swept across the length of her body, settling on her lips, before traveling to meet gray eyes. Her unexpected admission had left him unsettled, just as much as it had her.
Rowan cleared her throat and turned back to the crowd. “Now, how did I manage to take advantage? You see, he was distracted. Too eager to show you men how it’s done, too eager to use his strength against me. He’d already declared me a victim before we even started. How do I know this? Because of his bias towards me as a woman, he’d forgotten to use his brain.” She tapped her temple twice before continuing. “As a result, I was able to take advantage of his arrogance. We are of the same build, you and I,” she said to the men. “When someone has the advantage over you, use your brain and speed to beat them.”
Loghain laughed. “She is correct. I was distracted. Lesson learned. Never underestimate a woman, especially a beautiful one. You never know what they’re capable of.” Rising to his feet, he strode to where his sword lay. “Shall we try again, my lady?”
Rowan gathered herself. She raised her sword in challenge. “By all means. I’ll try not to embarrass you this time.”
“I don’t mind," he said huskily. His voice dropped to a whisper so that only she could hear. "Just as long as I can lick my wounds in your bed.”
“Watch your tongue,” she scolded.
“What would you do if I refused? Punish me? I think I’d rather like that, Rori.”
Rowan gasped. But she should have known better. That rationale came a second too late as Loghain charged at her. She wasn’t quick enough this time. His body slammed into hers, and she felt herself stumbling backward. She blocked left, then right, using her might to ward off his attack. He swung again. This time, she barely ducked in time. One of the men whistled at her, and she caught the shield in time, bringing it up for a counter block.
Metal clashed with wood, and Rowan felt the force of his blow cut into her skin. Gripping the handles of the shield, she pushed forward.
The two fought furiously. Breath synching as each refused to submit to the other. Soon, it wasn’t just the Night Elves who took note of the lesson. Half the camp had stopped what they’d been doing to look. Some with curiosity, others to place bets against one another.
And still, Rowan and Loghain fought. They circled one another. Each assessing, each waiting for the other to make a move. But somewhere between training and trying to prove her point as a woman, Rowan’s mind began to drift. And with every blow that came her way, so did the words that Loghain gave her. Words, she admitted, that have kept her up at night.
”I have long admired you from afar, Rowan. The first time I shared my affections, you were not ready. Yet somehow, I feel your feelings may have changed. That perhaps, you may feel as I do.”
For several more minutes, they fought until she felt her strength flagged. Every movement was like trekking through mud, and her arm wavered, becoming heavier and heavier. She blocked and took another step back as her arms dropped slightly.
Rowan was forced back as Loghain advanced. He was bigger than her. Stronger. Digging deep to find the last of her strength, she raised her sword, let out a battle cry, and charged forward.
Loghain grinned and held his ground, transfixed by the woman before him. In more ways than one, she was brave and her discipline in battle was what led to his noticing her in the first place. She wasn’t like any other women he’d come to known - delicate, soft, fragile. Women that needed protecting. No, Rowan wasn’t like those other women. She was fire and wild, courageous and a willingness to confront agony, pain, danger, uncertainty, and intimidation.
Invigorated, Loghain thrusted, parried and pushed her back, using his quickness to counterattack. Sweat poured from his brow. His teeth ached from his clenched jaw. His muscles rippled and tightened. Loghain swung his sword, but she brought up her sword to block. The force of the blow brought her to her knees, and he knocked the sword from her hand.
“Do you yield?” The tip of his sword met her throat.
Her heart pounded furiously. She felt all eyes laughing at her, and her spine stiffened, pride sparking a rebellious flame in her belly. “No.”
Loghain smiled. “Let it go, Rowan. You’ve been defeated. We both know I went easy on you.”
“By Andreste’s ass.” She grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into his face. While he stumbled back to clear his vision, she lined her shoulder and hit him below the waist.
Pain shot through him. Out of pure instinct, Loghain deflected and brought his elbow into her back, bringing his knee into her stomach. He heard Rowan cry out in pain and fall to her side, gasping for breath.
“Rori!” Loghain’s heart thundered, pounding against his chest like a mace. Had he hurt her? Was she bleeding? Had he broken ribs? Surely he would have realized it.
He’d lost his concentration for a bit when he could least afford it. He was sparring with Rowan, not the enemy. Not the enemy who flattened Ferelden’s field and assaulted women and children. When the sand hit his eyes, his instincts took over, and he’d been reminded of the many times he’d relied on pure strength to keep him alive.
Frantic, Loghain rolled Rowan into her back, grasping her hand in his, and checked her body for injuries. Worried that he may have really hurt her, Loghain swept her into his arms and proceeded to carry her to his tent. He ignored the concerned voices behind him. He ignored the startled stares. He ignored everyone who tried to stop him, his concern only for the woman in his arms.
“Logi. Logi! You can put me down. I’m fine,” Rowan insisted when they entered the area to his personal tent.
“I’ll believe that when I check for bruises and broken ribs.”
“If my ribs were broken, I'd be dead. Considering you carried me with no care across camp,” she growled, more from embarrassment than anger that he was treating her like a helpless female.
Loghain stopped and frowned. She had a point. But his hold tightened around her, nonetheless, and Rowan resigned herself to being carried the rest of the way.
His tent was spacious enough to host a cot and a set of tables and chairs, where he placed her. Several books bound in an old, tattered leather lined the bed. Loghain had always been an avid reader - consuming anything from military strategies to agriculture, poetry and plays.
Once settled, Loghain stepped back and waited for Rowan. It was something the three of them - she, Loghain, and Maric - always did after a battle. They checked each other’s injuries, for they trusted no one, not even the rebel healers they’ve recruited for their cause.
Rowan gave him a pestering stare and lifted her shirt, high enough to where the ends of her black breast band rested. She inhaled sharply when his fingers pressed around her ribs, sliding the width of her frame.
Loghain gave a satisfied grunt and turned around, his fingers raked through his long, dark hair in frustration.
Rowan shrank back in her chair as he proceeded to give her a blistering lecture that would make anyone quiver in their boots. He lectured her on her pride, her cockiness to prove her might. He spoke of their situation’s seriousness and how she didn’t seriously consider his men’s training.
“You are absolutely right,” she said. “If I were in your position, I would feel the same way. I shouldn’t have thrown sand in your eyes. I put myself at risk.”
“That’s right,” he muttered, his wrath seeming to ease when it became clear she wasn’t about to argue with him.
“With your experience, you could have easily ended my life. And not only did I put myself in danger, but I also jeopardized your position with the men.”
Slumping down into the chair opposite of hers, Loghain leaned forward. He continued to ramble on about safety and procedures, and while she knew she should be listening, Rowan’s mind drifted back to the words he’d given her a week earlier. She’d memorized every word, every meaning, every possibility.
“Maric has made his decision. He’s chosen Katriel … You are now a free woman.”
“Are you listening? Rori. Rori!”
Rowan snapped back to the present. “Say - what? What? My apologies, what were you saying?”
“Have you heard nothing I’ve said, woman?” He leaned forward, palms pressed against the table, nose nearly touching hers.
Oh, she knew he was trying to intimidate her. But this was Logi, and he couldn't have frightened her if he’d tried.
“I said, you put yourself at risk --”
Suddenly, his words were smothered into silence as Rowan leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips were so tender and carnal that he couldn't help but respond. Stunned, he struggled to put thoughts into words, but her lips were warm and inviting and his thoughts scattered.
“Ser,” a young recruit said from outside his tent. “The men were worried about Lady Rowan.”
Rowan released Loghain’s mouth, leaving his lips moist and soft. Her face remained closed to his, and she arched a brow in question, eyes twinkling as she waited for him to answer.
“She is fine. Tell the men to continue their training.” He rasped.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Rowan kissed him again, her tongue exploring, teasing, leaving Loghain in a spiral of heat and want and longing.
“But Ser, we’ve - the men. The men have been training for hours,” the timid voice continued.
Loghain growled. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Rowan sighed against his cheek as he regretfully pulled away to instruct the recruit. And when he finished barking orders, he was disappointed to find her standing. Her gray eyes swept the length of his body, and she blushed, a shade of pink so sweet he thought that he’d fallen off a cliff and died from being struck breathless.
Nervously, Rowan licked her lips. She wasn’t sure if she should have kissed him. She didn't know what had come over her, or what had ignited the desire to lay claim on him. It just happened. And she was damn sure she wasn’t sorry for it either.
Rowan cleared her throat. “I should go.”
To her disappointment, Loghain nodded and stepped aside to let her leave. But as she passed him, strong arms swept around her waist and brought her against a solid chest.
“Why did you kiss me?” Loghain demanded.
He was close. So close that she could feel his breath on her skin. The pounding of his heart sent a ripple of excitement down her spine.
“I - I’m not sure,” she gasped.
“I’m too old to play games, Rori. You either want me, or you don’t.”
Sensation rustled through her, spurring her pulse into an exciting race. Taking advantage of her surprise, Loghain curled his hand around her nape, losing his fingers in her silky mass. His hold tightened, possessively, and he brought his lips down to hers. So close. Just hovering. Teasing. Waiting.
“My affections for you have not changed,” he whispered against her lips. “I want you by my side, Rori. But I won’t make that decision for you. Nor will I force you into it. If you come to me, you will do so as a woman who’s chosen to be with me. Not out of obligation or duty. Or pity.”
And he sealed his pledge with a scorching kiss.
He kissed her with heat.
He kissed her with need.
He kissed her with the intensity of a man who'd known hunger for too long.
Her knees weakened and she leaned into him for strength. Pleased with her response, his arms tightened and pressed them closer. He supported her body as he continued to ravish her mouth.
When Loghain finally released Rowan, he steadied her at the waist. Desire darkened his gaze as she stared at him blankly. He knew for sure he won’t be sleeping alone tonight. But before he gave in to carnal lust, he needed to know.
“What is your answer, Rori? ” He said softly. He brushed her lips with his thumb.
Breathlessly, she asked. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Yes, but I will have it anyway.”
Her pulse throbbed in all the vulnerable places in her body. She felt feverish, hungry. But it wasn’t lust that had her sliding her hands between his, lacing his fingers in a firm, committed grip. It was something more, something she wasn’t ready to put a name on just yet.
Bringing her eyes to meet his, Rowan stared at him for an eternity. Then with determination, she answered honestly. “I come to you willingly. I am yours, Logi.”
Loghain released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and gave her a brief smile. “About damn time.” This time, his lips found hers in a sweet, gentle kiss that conveyed through touch what he couldn’t in words.