the tables have tabled!~

Loghain’s lips twitched into a faint smile at Morrigan’s praise, though it was a smile edged with frustration. The magic still felt foreign to him, like a blade he hadn’t yet fully mastered. But he was nothing if not determined, and he’d be damned if he let it best him.

Damaging to one’s psyche, you say? he murmured, glancing at Morrigan. Sounds like a bloody effective way to get someone’s attention. He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking down at the decayed remains of the fish. The sight was both grotesque and oddly satisfying. In his previous life, he’d dealt death with steel; now, it seemed, he was learning to do the same with a mere thought.

Loghain’s thoughts drifted briefly to Kieran, their son. He wondered how much of Flemeth’s teachings the boy had inherited, how much of Morrigan’s influence had shaped him. The idea that his children were learning the ways of magic, that they were growing up in a world so different from the one he had known, was both a source of pride and a nagging concern.

He turned his gaze to the swamp where Echo played, her laughter reaching his ears like a balm. Despite everything, she seemed untouched by the weight of their pasts, her innocence a stark contrast to the dark path he and Morrigan had walked. He couldn’t afford to let his failures repeat themselves, not with Echo, not with Kieran. Slipping up once again in his mind, forgetting what a hand he had in raising Asha.

Apt student, am I? he repeated, his tone a mix of dry humor and self-reflection. High praise coming from you, but I’m a long way from mastering this… but I’m getting there. He stepped back from the table, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the tension that had built up during the exercise.

Flemeth must have been something, he added, more to himself than to Morrigan. The stories he’d heard about the Witch of the Wilds painted a picture of a formidable woman, one who had shaped Morrigan into the powerful, enigmatic force she was today. Loghain respected that—respected strength and the ability to survive in a world that sought to crush the weak.

He turned to Morrigan, his expression serious now. What’s next? I need to be ready, for whatever comes. This power— he flexed his fingers, feeling the residual magic still humming beneath his skin, —it’s not enough to just wield it. I need to control it. Completely.

Loghain’s blue eyes met Morrigan’s, the determination in them clear. He was a warrior, born and bred, but now he was something more, something different. He wasn’t about to let this new path overwhelm him; he would forge it into a weapon, one that would protect his family and help them find Asha.

I’ve always been a quick study when it comes to the battlefield, he continued, his voice low and resolute. This is just another war to win. So, teach me, Morrigan. Teach me what I need to know. He couldn’t help but wonder how much his new power would have come in handy back when he fought against the Orlesian occupation of Ferelden.

@Morrigan