"Maric was never fond of the Wardens, you ignorant little shit," he spat back having been more offended at the realities of a history terribly told rather than her insults on nobility. Loghain had no love for the upperclass, and instead identified himself with the workers and agricultural labourers. He was a military man yes, but only through necessity. If he had been left to his own devices instead of stumbling into Maric all those years ago, he would have still been out in the hinterlands living off of what the earth provided.
"Your self-proclaimed intelligence is clearly lacking, girl," he cut in, "your facts are wrong--" but his own words thereafter ground to a halt as a sudden, splitting pain lanced through him from the crack of her forehead against the bridge of his nose. Bloodied, yes, but considering his own history of broken noses due to similar scraps in the past, he knew a fracture when he felt one. In that lapse of weakness however, Solona proceeded to claw for higher ground by successfully tossing him onto his side, though he would not give her the upperhand. He refused to be bested by some little rat the Wardens pulled into their fold and made feel special when no one else would. If she wanted to roughhouse, then he would roughhouse.
A knee lifted to increase the distance between them; a stark contrast to the aggressive albeit borderline intimate moments before. With a shift of his hands to her shoulders and the stretching of a strong leg, Loghain shoved Solona off the high bed and onto the suite floor before leaping up from the mattress himself to stand over her. She'd reach for any weak point, he noted, so the position didn't last long.
"Do not lecture me about crooked politics!" He bellowed as a strong hand grasped at the front of her blouse to lift and shove her up against the nearest wall. He was tired, body sore from their desperate acts for supremacy, but he would not fold. The blood dripping from the split in his nose was ignored due to the fury that pumped through him--fury at her ignorance. What did she know about tyrants and politics when she had been so lucky to avoid the Orlesian rule? How dare she point accusing fingers and spout garbage of her superior point of view from her roost in a country filled with nothing but self-entitled hypocrites--from the ranks of charlatans that flashed pretty smiles with teeth like daggers as a façade to get what they wanted. Orlais was called the masked empire for a reason, and it was because of of the games they played; its royalty's hidden agenda and cloak and dagger tactics. It was because they were pompous, greedy globetrotters who had no love for anything but how pretty their faces were, and how many precious material things they had at the end of the day. He was not easily influenced by such baubles, nor was he in the same vein as their crooked diplomacies. He fought for Ferelden for over thirty years to free it from such clutches, how dare she accuse him of the tyranny he fought so fervently against.
"You live in a world where everything is handed to you, where you can live without fear of foreign tyrants helping themselves to everything you love--to everything that is yours! I fought for that right, Solona!" He shouted, strong arm pulling her away from the wall before throwing her back against it to punctuate his words and drive these facts she so blatantly ignored into her head. "I fought for your right to live as a human being without being subject to rape, abuse and murder if you did so much as look at an Orlesian the wrong way. Do not tell me that I am corrupt, when it is the very fucking thing I kept you from!"
Suddenly, his grip relaxed and he released her. A hand finally flew up the cradle the damage that had been done to his already-disfigured nose with a dissatisfied grunt. With a swift but heavy step, Loghain turned away from her sore and no doubt bruised body as she gathered herself to hurl whatever inaccurate bullshit she deemed applicable, but he had already shut her out in his own overwhelming anger.
