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WHO: Loghain Mac Tir, Rowan Guerrin
WHERE: Deep Roads to start
WHEN: During The Stolen Throne
WARNINGS: TBD
NOTES: TBD

Ortan Thaig would change everything for them. At first, Loghain had only noticed Katriel's wound. Why that was, even he could not say. Of all the people in their group at the moment, Katriel was the last he should have given any care for. Admittedly, he had checked for Rowan first and when his glance had given him no cause for worry, he had apparently been drawn towards the elf. Her wound was so severe and he did not see a way that she could survive. It was sheer luck that he and Rowan had managed to drag the heavy bodies of Maric and Katriel, though given they had nothing with which to heal the bite wounds or even purge the venom from the bodies, it was likely all for naught.

After securing the perimeter of the old dwarven home they've taken shelter in and working to build a fire, worth the risk of alerting the spiders for a bit of warmth, Loghain makes his way to where Rowan is. He barely even knows what to say to her, how to make the sting hurt less. He knows how much she adores Maric, idiot that he is to have wronged her, and somehow that makes saying anything at all far more difficult. Eventually, he settles on what he is known for: simple, brutal honesty.

"They won't last the night. Not unless we can find something to drain the poison from them."

And, oddly enough, that seems to be the least of their worries. For if Maric dies, then what is the point of returning to the rebels? How could they show their faces, let alone convince the damnable mage that they didn't kill him? It's far too much for Loghain to want to deal with. So he won't unless he needs to. Right now, he and Rowan have to worry about saving him. And then getting out of the Deep Roads.

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Rowan doesn’t know what do to. And she hates it. She doesn’t... this isn’t something she knows. She doesn’t know healing and potion-making and natural remedies. But she should. It’s something she should have studied. Tried to study. SOMEthing so that she could do something. Save them. Save him.

They need him. He’s to be king. The rebellion needs him. Ferelden needs him.

If he dies she has no idea what they’ll do. How they’ll break the news to Wilhelm and the others. Will they even believe them? Of course, if they don’t get out of the sodding Deep Roads they won’t be telling anyone anything. One step at a time.

“Do you know anything about how to go about doing that?”

Ferelden needs something, Loghain will admit. Whether it needs Maric or someone who can actually lead, he doesn't know, although he will admit that Maric has a way with words when he isn't even trying. Rowan could manage, when her temper isn't getting the better of her, but the same could be said for Loghain. Can they manage without Maric, if they have to?

That is a question Loghain does not have the answer to. Nor can he properly prepare for the possibility.

There's also the matter of Rowan and her feelings for Maric. Her heart has already been damaged. How badly will she feel the keen blade of loss if they cannot save her love now? Loghain cares deeply for her, but he would never wish this sort of pain on her.

Which is why the shake of his head is sort of dead, dejected and tired. He has no answer for this and the longer he searches through their packs for anything that might help, the more he feels that all of their endeavors are hopeless. Saving Maric and the rebellion. None of it really matters anymore.

"None of what we have can fight spider venom like that," he admits gruffly, the bite to his tone hiding how much this stings him as well. Maric is his friend, hardheaded idiot that he is, and Loghain barely knows what to do without that presence and drive at his side. His fingers ball up into intertwined fists, as though the strength he puts into controlling his anger will do anything at all to bring Maric back to health.

"We're going to lose him."

“No.” There are times Rowan hates his blunt honesty. Loves it, too, because it makes everything simple as much as it makes it complicated. Right now she hates it. His words cut like a knife. ‘We’re going to lose him’. She loves Maric, the stupid, hard-headed fool that he is, no matter her complicated feelings for the man at her side, and the thought of losing him is devastating.

But it’s more than that. He’s the driving force that has kept the rebellion going, he’s the future king.

“We can’t. There has to be something we can do.” She knows better. But she says the words, anyway. Wishing she could make them be true through sheer force of will.

Loghain has been through all of their packs too many times to count by now and he's even dug into Katriel's, but there's nothing. No salve or potion to save them from spider venom. None of them imagined they would need anything to cure that when they set out on this mess of a venture. And yet.. here they are.

He growls, not at her in any way, and paces between the bodies and the packs, working through everything he can think of. If there were only a way to save Maric. He doesn't give a damn about Katriel. She can rot, for all he cares, but Maric...

And it isn't just for Loghain's sake. He doesn't want to see what this will do to Rowan.

Wordlessly, he motions at their packs, a tired and worn offer for her to double-check him, see if maybe she will see what he has missed.

They should have prepared. They should have come prepared for anything. But they didn’t. And Maric is paying the price. Katriel too, but he’s the important one. The king is dying. Her friend, her... almost lover, almost husband, is going to die. Her stomach twists and for a moment she thinks she’s going to get sick.

So she busies herself in going through their packs in a desperate attempt to find what Loghain missed. (She knows better, knows he didn’t miss anything, but she looks anyway. She has to.)

By the time Rowan has finished her digging, and he doesn't blame her in the least for trying, Loghain has settled down beside Maric's body, watching the life slowly drain from his friend. His eyes are hollow, worn and sad despite everything else that they have and could be, and he says not a word yet. Not until Rowan has tried and failed as he did. Not until he knows for certain that they have nothing that will help cure Maric. This is a wound he will bear just as he always has borne the death of his father. In a different way, of course, but powerfully and raw all the same.

"We'll have to find some way to keep the troops' hopes alive," is what he says next, his thoughts to how this will affect the rebellion covering up his own grief. For now, he doesn't ask Rowan about how she's going to feel, how she does feel. He already knows and his grief is for her as well.