War is Never Cheap Here (10/12)
Title: War is Never Cheap Here (10/12)
Authors: cherith & serindrana
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing: Bann Teagan/Ser Cauthrien
Series Rating: NC-17/AO
Chapter Rating: NC-17/AO
Series Wordcount: 99,400
Chapter Wordcount: 7,759
Warnings: None
Summary: Having done everything to find Edlyn that they can think of, Cauthrien and Teagan settle in to wait and turn to re-establishing their relationship. (Ao3) (FF)
Notes: War is Never Cheap Here will be updating weekly, on Fridays. Projected length looking like twelve chapters.
We're sadly going to have to take another hiatus - two weeks again. See you again on the 28th!
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Chapter Ten
Raud said nothing about the kiss he had witnessed, but the man’s disapproval was evident as they walked back to Teagan’s office. It only grew moreso as they worked. Raud’s responses and questions were short, clipped words and downcast glances.
Teagan ignored the older man’s disapproval as best he could, focusing on the work and answering Raud’s questions. There were finances to deal with, food orders to be signed off on. A few petitions to be looked over in the privacy of his office instead of the clamor of his hall. Some of the tasks, he thought with something like a knot in his chest that he hadn't felt for some time, were ones the lady of the house usually handled. They were all his, though, familiar and rote.
As the time for dinner approached, Teagan asked after a bottle of wine and had it brought to his office. He was eager to see Cauthrien again, now that the uncertainty in his head had quieted somewhat, but he still felt unprepared. A glass of wine- two- helped to calm his nerves. He was almost grateful to Raud for the stares, for his frown, feeling bolstered by them somehow, though he was sure his seneschal would disapprove of that also, had he known. Still, Teagan used it as fuel for his confidence, his supposed rebellion against what was right or proper.
He took the bottle of wine with him to dinner and was there earlier than he needed to be, certain now that he was bold enough to say what he needed to. To face her again. He was waiting when she entered, all confidence and blossoming relaxation.
She smiled as she sat down across from him. "Sorry. I was in the yard- did you send the servant after me?"
"No," he said, with a chuckle to ease his lingering worries. "I did not, though I did sit for dinner early tonight." He nodded at his glass of wine. "And have already had a drink while I waited."
He looked up at her, eyes bleary with alcohol and fatigue, and sighed. "But I imagine that if Raud knows, they must all know by now." He even sounded tired, though the smile was still in place. His lips parted and he was on the verge of speaking again, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he lifted his glass and took a drink.
She considered him a moment, then reached for an empty cup and poured herself a measure of wine as well. "Well, they were kind enough to call me for dinner. And your guard, I think, like me a little more."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Did something happen while you were out there?"
"I sparred with a few of them. It... was nice, actually."
“I see. I hope you were able to show them a few things. I’m sure they could use it.” Much as I needed it, he thought, remembering how she had overpowered him in the yard just a few days earlier. She seemed pleased, and he was glad that his men hadn't shared his reaction to her. "And if they like you for it, all the better."
She took a long drink, then slid a piece of parchment across the table to him. "I wrote Anora a new letter, to replace the one I haven't mailed yet. Look it over for me?"
He nodded and took another sip, bracing himself to read it. His eyes flicked to hers for just a moment before he pulled the letter off the table. He read over it slowly, trying to keep a neutral expression, until he found the last line.
In the intrest of ful disclozur, I am sleeping with Teagan.
He took a deep breath.
"I can see your spelling has improved." His ever-present smile was back in place, but it turned small and tight-lipped as he looked up at her. She was nervous and worrying at her lower lip, sitting with shoulders hunched forward as she leaned across the table, watching him. When he caught her eye, she downed the rest of her wine and then put the cup aside.
"I- yes," she said, blushing. "I had The History of Rainesfere open the entire time. To check against. Thank you."
She scuffed her boot against the stone beneath the table before adding, "And I felt that the situation- my earlier letter no longer reflected it."
He put the letter back on the table and slid it to her, focusing his eyes on hers.
“And you feel... the last is worth mentioning now? To Anora?” He had to force the words out, they were hard, edged as though they were painful for him to say. And they were, he wouldn’t keep from addressing it- she had obviously wanted him to see the mention, and that she no longer asked for the possibility of another assignment.
He supposed he should be pleased by it and he wanted to be. A somewhat public display of affection, the camaraderie she built with the guards, how she felt... whatever she felt, it was strong enough to mention it to Anora. He should be pleased.
And yet.
Cauthrien shifted awkwardly across the table from him. Had she intended to cheer him with the mention? The look of uncertainty creasing her brow suggested as much, as did her wavering voice when she spoke again.
"It will surely get back to her soon. Especially if we... stop pretending that nobody in the Keep knows. ... Would you prefer I remove it? If it bothers you to know she'll see it-"
“You would remove it?” he asked, not intending to do any such thing, but surprised by her offer all the same. “If I asked?”
Cauthrien shrugged, sitting back. "Of course I would."
That at last softened the edges around his eyes, his lips. He reached for his wine again and took another sip, this one slow, thoughtful. When he set it back down he leaned forward, forearms flat on the table.
“I won’t ask you to do so,” he said softly. “I- I think you’re right, in that she’ll find out soon enough. Though I would like to think my staff wouldn’t be so loose-lipped.” But he knew better that people talked, servants to friends, family, the people they worked alongside every day. Eventually, Anora would know. It was better for Cauthrien if the news came from her - something she had said days ago.
"But if you asked, I would," she said with a small smile. "It concerns both of us."
“It does,” he said with a nod. Both politically and emotionally. He wanted to ask, why now or because of this afternoon, but he held his tongue.
She tugged now at the end of her ponytail, considering him. "But I also... feel done with hiding it. Not just because others know, either."
Something began to unfurl in his chest, the tension in his shoulders easing not from drink but from comfort. He slid one of his hands across the table, fingers spread and reaching for her. “Thank you.”
A small smile touched her lips and she reached out as well, settling her hand atop his.
"You're welcome. I'll have it sent out with the morning post, then. ... Teagan."
His name. She had said his name, in the open, where anyone could hear it, with no title, no propriety. He had used hers often enough without care, but to hear her do the same-
He smiled, and it was genuine, his fingers curling tight around her as he squeezed her hand. “What do you think she’ll do? Our Queen?”
He could think of several scenarios and while many of them he found somewhat hilarious (even Anora tearing through the castle in a fit of rage was funny enough of it’s own merit), the threat she would recall and possibly issue some punishment for Cauthrien was not.
Cauthrien looked thoughtful a moment. "... She may call me home, though the message might not arrive before three weeks are up. She may also, once I leave, send somebody else to investigate you. It depends on how much she thinks I've been- compromised. And how much she thinks you really are plotting something."
Her thumb stroked along his hand. "Or she might not care, even if it's hard to imagine. I've begun to wonder if she didn't send me here to just get me out of her hair, rather than to question you."
“I doubt this was exactly her plan, whatever her reasons for sending you might have been.” He frowned down at her letter. “I guess we’ll find out when her response arrives.”
Teagan tried not to think about what the other options Anora would have for investigating him, who else she might send, if it came to that. He shrugged and turned his eyes back on Cauthrien, squeezing her hand in his.
“It’s not quite the romantic reveal I imagine her Antivan mysteries having though, is it?”
Cauthrien snorted, grinning. "Do you have a more- romantic idea? I don't exactly know how her books handle it. I suppose I could go on at length with details..."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head at that, and he couldn't help but laugh.
"No, not really," he said with a shrug. "Just thinking out loud. I'm not really up for sharing anything more than you think is necessary with her, queen or not."
--
The meal passed in their now accustomed fashion - Cauthrien ate, more than she was used to eating or had eaten before coming to Rainesfere, and Teagan picked at his own food and watched her. They talked about little things: the state of the guards' fighting skills, the seasoning of the food, how nice the wine was.
They used each other's names without titles more than once.
At the end, Cauthrien rose to her feet almost reluctantly, then reached to take her letter back. There had been no interruptions to their meal by Raud or by any runners from the search party, but she took the solitude as a gift and not more cause to worry. As she folded the parchment again, she looked to Teagan. What else would there be? A spelling lesson? A quiet invitation back to his room- or should she invite him to hers?
He met her questioning look with one of his own, smiling.
“Have you had enough then?” he asked as he took the last sip of his wine and then pushed away from the table. “I know I’m finished, at least with dinner.” Dinner seemed to have helped his mood. He wasn’t completely the seemingly carefree noble that he usually was, but he was also no longer as melancholy and brooding as he had been that afternoon.
She nodded. "Enough of dinner, yes." Cauthrien licked her lips in search of the next words. "... Will you be retiring for the night?" A no would invite suggestions of how to fill the time; she could think of a few. But she still couldn't read him entirely and didn't know if he would prefer to retreat again.
He shook his head and moved around the table to stand near her. “No, I don’t think I’m quite ready to.” He arched a brow, a sly question. “And you?” He stepped closer and then spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was nearby. Alone, he leaned in reached a hand to her face, his thumb a gentle caress against her cheek.
That drew a smile from her. It was unexpected even to her; who would have thought that a potentially public display of affection would have made her smile, openly? But she did, and leaned into it.
"I'm a little tired, but hardly ready to sleep."
His smile broadened. “It is the same for me.”
“And, I’m sorry about this afternoon,” he sad softly. “I am.”
"I still don't understand what was wrong," she admitted with a tight little smile. "... But I will make whatever it was better." She couldn't find Edlyn and bring her home herself; she was stuck in Rainesfere feeling powerless instead, feeling embarrassed for having accused the wrong man. But if she could fix this, at least? It was something.
And he seemed to be recovering. It was with a small smile that he shrugged and said, “I could try to explain, though I’m not sure I could do it well.”
"This morning," she said, moving beyond it to somewhere easier, "we- discussed the possibility of you coming to my room instead? But as I said, it does have a smaller bed. It's smaller all around, actually. And still filled with Edlyn's practice writings. It- may not be the best place at the moment."
“It was a joke, mostly." His fingers slid from her cheek and he took her hand, twining their fingers together. "Though on a different day, I would not be adverse to waking up in your bed, instead of mine.”
"On a different day?" She rubbed at her neck as she laughed and smiled. The marks he'd left were quite visible, her skin consciously left bare. She went all in or not at all, and she'd made her decision for the rest of the month. The guard had been sure to see it. The servants too.
It didn't fill her with the trepidation she expected.
"And what do you feel today?"
“Today?” He smiled and squeezed her hand, giving it a gentle tug towards him. “Or tonight, I suppose. I’d be happy to be with you wherever you want to be.”
"... The stables?" she offered with a wry grin. But then she shook her head and stepped that last little bit closer to him, close enough that should she have wanted to, she could have found his lips with her own. But for the moment, she just stood near him, considering.
Did she have the confidence and conviction needed to walk straight back to Teagan's room with him?
No. Well, at least not at that very moment, but she didn't want to part ways. "We could- take a walk? Along the battlements, maybe? You've been sitting in offices too much."
“I would like that,” he said with a nod. He was still smiling and looked at her hopefully. “Shall we then?” He let her hand go and held his up, elbow extended as a gentleman would for a proper lady. “If you’re ready?”
She eyed that extended arm with a small pause, as if unsure whether she should take it. She remembered vaguely him calling her my lady when he'd brought her back to her room her first night in Rainesfere. Had he offered her his arm then?
But, of course, things had changed there, too. If she was going to- be public with a bann, there were certain small rules she would have to learn to play by. And so she took his arm, even though it made her vaguely uncomfortable, feel vaguely out of place.
"I am. Lead on- you know your keep better than I."
He gave her hand a pat with his free one and led her outside. The battlements were easily gained, the journey brief enough by his side. It was a beautiful evening, cool but not cold yet, the air moist and carrying the scene of the fields around the keep. There was rain coming; she could feel it in the air.
She spared a momentary thought to the search party and hoped that any signs they might find wouldn't be harmed from whatever weather came their way.
As they stopped he let his arm fall, grabbing her hand and pulling it into his. Smiling, he tugged playfully and keeping an eye on her, took a step away.
She quirked a brow and followed him a step. "Yes?"
“This is nice,” he said and pulled her another step, then another. “Outside, even.” He let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. He squeezed her hand and, without moving, pulled her a bit closer.
When he spoke again, his voice was more reserved, a little uncertain.“Cauthrien, I know this can’t be what you expected." He looked down at their joined hands a bit nervously. “Even without this investigation, it hasn’t been easy.” Teagan pursed his lips, brows furrowing, and after a moment he looked back up to her. “But are you at least... happy here? With me?”
"You know I didn't expect anything. Good or bad," she said, smiling thinly to hide her sudden nervousness. Thoughts from the day before, of betrothals and what her fate would have been had she not joined the army and had the support of Loghain Mac Tir, returned unbidden.
That wasn't what he meant, of course, but the moment was all the same a little too intimate.
But she didn't run, instead just looking down at their hands. "... But I am. Happy, that is. More than I think I rightly should be." The last was confessed in a quiet voice, her words rough. "That is to say- sometimes it doesn't make sense to me."
He stroked his thumb along her hand. “I’m not sure it makes sense to me either at times. I’m glad you’re happy, though - it's the least we can hope for. I like to think I know what I’m doing most of the time,” he said with a shake of his head, “but right now, I’m not sure that I do. With any of this. It’s a bit overwhelming.”
"That's one way to put it," she said, that thin, wry smile appearing again. "... I feel bad, now, for hoping that something interesting would happen that I could write to Anora about. It's hard not to think that wish somehow brought us..."
Edlyn. She sighed.
"I would have liked the month to... have just been us. Without this distraction."
“Indeed,” he said with a small nod.
And then he shook his head, leaning in close enough that she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I should write Anora a letter of my own, should I not?” he asked, voice a whisper and his lips not so very far from hers. “Dear Queen Anora,” he began, his tone irreverent and playful. “I have slept with your Ser Cauthrien and would very much like to continue to do so.”
She laughed as she fit herself against his side. Her lips brushed his lightly in that moment, and then she shook her head, still grinning. "To see her reaction to that," she mused. "Can you imagine it? I think she might just sit there for a very long time. And then set the letter down and not manage to find her quill again for a week."
Loghain's reaction would have been- even funnier, thinking of it now. The thought, far from unsettling her, made her smile broaden until the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkled from it. He leaned in and kissed her gently, letting out a small chuckle after.
“It would be worth watching, for certain.” He focused on her for a moment and then raised his hand to brush her hair back from her shoulder. “However, if you’re giving her notice, it would be wise for me to somehow respond.” He smiled and kissed Cauthrien’s cheek. “I suspect,” he whispered, “she will wonder about my intentions.”
"Mm, yes. I suppose you're right. What will you tell her? And will you sign it Bann Disappointment?" Her smile remained in place, a hand smoothing over the front of his doublet, reaching up to idly touch at his braid. She had seen him rebraid it just that morning, had taken it down the night before as she combed her fingers through his hair and dragged him close.
He laughed. “I should. Though I don’t know that she would appreciate the humor.” He tilted his face towards her hand, kissing at her palm.
“I don’t really know what to tell her. Admit the truth of it, as you have, I suppose? She’ll likely believe me to have some ulterior motive, much as she did when she sent you to me.” He chuckled and corrected, “To investigate me.”
"And I am still investigating," she cautioned, shivering at his lips against her skin. "If you do anything dastardly, I will still report it. Anora may doubt my objectivity - and I may, too - but I do know why I'm officially here."
Even if it wasn't something she cared much about anymore.
He grinned at that. Leaning in to her, he moved his lips from her hand, to her neck. Lightly, his lips at her ear and voice a whisper, he said, “I do have wicked thoughts, Ser Cauthrien. Though they are only for you, and nothing our Queen needs to know about.”
Softly, he kissed her ear, her neck, tracing out the marks he had left the night before. “Very- wicked- indeed,” he whispered, punctuating each word with a kiss.
"Maker," she mumbled, reaching out a hand to steady herself on the closest crenellation. Discretion was on her lips, her usual chiding, but she couldn't bring it from her throat. They weren't trying for the same sort of discretion anymore, and she didn't want to hide completely.
But still, was this the best place?
"We're in public," she pointed out, voice throaty and thin.
“We are,” he teased, brushing a kiss against her chin. It was a challenge - a question - and he followed it, flicked his tongue over her bottom lip then pushed his lips against hers. It was a light kiss, like all his others, patient but inviting and he pulled away after only a moment and gave her a questioning look.
"If people see," she managed, uncertain. He was only kissing her; it was only her mind that went beyond that, sought her belly where it coiled with heat stoked by the relief of having him against her, of not having to hide. She gave him a kiss in return, a little warmer, a little more forceful than his, her fingers curling against his shoulder, winding into the fabric of his doublet.
He sunk into her kiss, returning it with matched force. He pulled her as close as he could, his arms around her back and shoulders. Trailing light touches along the curve of her neck, the angles of her cheek, her jaw, he slid his hand along her throat. Slowly, that hand dipped forward, a light caress along her front.
She had promised to stop comparing him to Loghain, but it was inevitable. Loghain hadn't always taken her in an office or a bedroom; once or twice it had been in an equipment shed on the yard, another time in a small storage room in the palace. Those were public spaces, too.
But that had felt far different. In this moment, this place, it felt affectionate and playful instead of desperately needy. Her hands found his hips and kept him close, humming approval into their kiss.
His hand stopped somewhere around her waist, fingers dancing along the edge of her tunic, his thumb pressed against her making small, slow circles. He kept his lips against hers, parted slightly and his tongue tentative against them.
She let him in with a low sound back in her throat, fingers tightening against him. Just a little. They'd indulge just a little, enjoy the freedom that came from not hiding. The night was good and they could do nothing but wait - wait, and live the time they had left together.
Her own fingers danced along his hips and then under the edge of his doublet, feeling for the skin she now knew the texture of so well, the warmth of.
He took a step forward, pressing her against the crenellation where her hand had rested moments before. He sought skin with his touch, and when he found it, fingers slipped up beneath the hem of her tunic, he deepened the kiss. It brought another sigh from her throat, another needy little noise, and she leaned heavily on the stone behind her, using it and its chill to keep her steady.
Her hands left his hips to trail up his sides and around his back, until she could splay her fingers over his shoulder blades in a bid to keep herself upright and close to him and not just at his mercy.
There were distant sounds of people working, of the world carrying on, of the weather, but they were for all intents and purposes alone. She let go of herself into him.
As he took hold of her waist, Teagan groaned, breathy but low and deep- wanting. He murmured something like her name as he pulled away from their kiss, to move his lips to the curve of her neck, teasing nips down to her collar.
"Maker," she whispered, almost just an exhale, sliding one of her hands from under his shirt and into his hair to hold him close to her. All her weight rested on the stone behind her and she let her head fall back, her eyes close. Her fingers pressed tight patterns to his skin, her hips shifted, rolling towards him.
It drew a louder, more urgent sound from his lips and he pulled his head back so he could look at her. He kissed at her column of her throat and he bit at the other side of her neck, the side he had left unattended. His hands pushed her tunic up, fingers digging roughly at her skin until they brushed the fabric of her breastband.
Outside, she thought to remind him, but his mouth on hers again, distracting, and the spiral of heat at his touch was too much. She was losing control of the situation, and fast, and she repeated again and again that they were effectively in private. She didn't want to push him away. She kissed him deeply instead, a moan slipping from her throat.
The only control she managed to cling to was how she didn't move to undress him. Her hand under his shirt stayed stroking at his skin, clutching at his back, but she never moved to work at the toggles of his doublet or the laces of his pants.
He pressed her against the stone, thumbs caressing and kneading at her breasts. He rocked against her insistently, his hips rolling forward, his thigh pushing between her legs. She groaned and parted her legs enough that his thigh could fit between them. There was something about this, the needy push, the night air around them, the fact that they were upright, that made her anxious and aroused, responding more than she had intended. Rocking her hips against him was too good, sending shudders dancing through her, and she arched her back to press her chest more firmly into his hands.
There was a fine line she was walking, between needy lover and wanton dalliance. No more than this- they would have no more than this before finding some room. His room. The office. Something, somewhere, where a closed door gave them privacy and her the reminder of respect. She knew he respected her, but her skin being bared to the night air both wound her up and made her uncertain. Before, they had barely touched hands in public. Now, he would make her cry out on the walls of his keep?
He pressed against her, fingers more focused, more demanding against her breasts, even through the fabric of her band, but he did not try to move beneath it. He did, however, lower his head, to press kisses lower, as far as the collar of her tunic would allow and then stepped a leg back enough to nip at the skin just above her the tight swath of fabric binding her chest.
In the brief moment when his lips left hers, she whispered, "Maker, Teagan-" and a handful of wordless needy sounds, arching as he kissed at her skin, whining as he pulled away.
He moaned and rocked his hips against hers again, then leaned forward to kiss her, to quiet her, to drink her in. It was hard to protest when she felt as she did, a little wild, a little irreverent. But the feeling was still there, the uncertainty, and she wanted. She wanted badly, and it couldn't happen out here.
She leaned back enough to gasp, "Inside. We need to go inside."
He let out a low noise, almost a growl against her throat as she moved her mouth away from his. He moved his leg, sliding it to the side and then between her legs again. His head fell forward, hair falling in his face as he pressed his forehead to her cheek. He took a breath even as he tilted his chin forward, a kiss against her jaw, but said nothing.
She forced her hands out from under his doublet, instead reaching up to catch his jaw in her hands, thumbs stroking over the short stubble along his jawline. "Inside," she repeated, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again.
It was an odd feeling, foreign, but if this was public - well. It crossed a line of seriousness, of the nature of their relationship, and she wanted the respect of a private room.
Cauthrien didn't want to be known as anything beyond - worse - than just his lover, and rutting on the battlements would not help her.
He leaned into her hands and then tilted his head up enough to look at her. His lips parted as if he would speak, but no sound came out and, finally, his hands moved to the stone behind her. He pushed himself away and looked to the ground, taking another breath, this one deeper than the last.
When he looked up again, it was with a nod and a murmured assent. “Inside.”
Her hands dropped from his face, but as she pushed herself up from the stone, body protesting and throbbing with frustrated desire, she felt- better. Very much better. She touched fingers to the side of his hand.
"Your room, yes?" she asked, voice pitched low but not to a whisper. Polite, but not afraid. Not paranoid that somebody listened.
"I'll walk to it with you."
--
Teagan's thoughts were still hazy and focused only on the warmth of her, but those six words made him stop before he tried to kiss her again, before he could think again of the great boon that was her penchant for wearing tight-fitted leggings.
His lips twitched, a small smile in place already at the thought of the two of them, a bit messy, a little flush, making their way to his room. It wasn’t this- it wasn’t what it could be in the cool evening air, cold stone and little else around them, but it was her small surrender to him.
He nodded, “Or yours.” After sweeping a hand through his hair, he reached down to grab her hand. He quirked a brow in question as he twined his fingers with hers.
"Papers on the floor," she reminded him, squeezing his hand and pulling him in the direction of the keep proper. "Or I would, if only for the change." She offered him a small smile, thumbing at her lips with her free hand, looking a little bashful, a little aroused - and most of all, relieved and pleased.
“Right, the papers,” he said. His smile was indulgent, his attention wholly hers. He followed her, happily, hand in hers. They passed a guard on their way inside and Teagan was torn between averting his eyes and pulling his hand away, or giving the man a challenging stare. He chose the latter, with a smile.
Cauthrien also didn't look away. It was a thrilling and nervewracking moment, to see her abandoning in some measure her discretion. And then it passed, and they were just walking, hand in hand, through the hall.
When they got to the door to his bedroom, he pulled her inside quickly, giddiness of their walk through the house surging through him. He turned, body against hers, as he reached a hand behind her to close the door.
He stepped forward, pushing her back up against the closed door. For once, there was nothing of discretion or sound or worry on his mind as he kissed her. He brought his hand away from the door, grabbing at the back of her neck and lacing his fingers into her hair, while his other hand went to her hip, pulling her close.
This. Maker, but this... abandon was what he wanted, both from her and himself. He let himself sink against her, and into the kiss.
She groaned into his mouth as her back contacted the wood, her hands going to his hips. She met his fervent kiss with her own, filled with little nips and long swipes of her tongue. It was intoxicating, how well she knew where to touch to make him rise, and he groaned as her hands slipped beneath his doublet again. They lingered against his skin only a moment, a few dancing plucks of his arousal, before she pulled away enough to begin working at the clasps.
His hand moved from her hip, trailing across the front of her leggings, already searching for the laces, for a way to remove the barriers between them. He moaned into her kisses, the gentle swipes of her tongue, the less gentle teeth on his lips and he returned them in kind. His skin felt warm at the touch of her hand just the feel of her fingers stirring him.
He let loose his grip on her hair to work both hands against her leggings, pulling her hips just away from the door as he worked. As soon as the laces were undone, his hands were against her skin. He tugged her tunic over her head, casting it aside. In an instant, his fingers found her hips again, slipped beneath her smalls and cupped her rear, pulling her close. She rolled her hips forward against his, squirmed as if to push her leggings down without using her hands. Her hands she kept busy between their chests, and when the fasteners were all undone, she slid his doublet from his shoulders hastily, hands spreading over his shoulders and gripping his upper arms.
Leaning into her, he moved his hands with the roll of her hips, pushing her leggings down. He pulled his arms away after that only long enough to let his doublet fall to the floor, and slid a foot behind him to kick it out of the way. When he could, he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to crush hers.
His head dipped down to nip at her the curve from her neck to her shoulder.
“Cauthrien,” he breathed. It was needy, wanting, a prayer and demand in a name.
She twined her arms around his neck, reaching back to undo the fastener on her breastband, letting it fall as she leaned against him. She let her head tilt back and returned a throaty, "Teagan, Maker-"
He slid a hand down between them reaching for the lacings on his breeches, tugging them loose. He pressed Cauthrien to the door, running his other hand down from her shoulder, kneading at a breast. He only reluctantly trailed his touch down her stomach until he could bring his other hand to finish undoing his breeches, sliding them and his smalls down from his hips, toeing his shoes off as they fell to the floor.
She touched her hands to his chest, pushing him back just enough that she could kneel and pull the laces of her boots loose quickly, shoving them off and to the side along with her leggings and smalls. He ached as he watched the curve of her back, the flex of her shoulders, and as soon as she was on her feet again, he pressed up against her. Her mouth sought his and he gave it to her eagerly.
He reached for her hip with a hand and with the little space between them he leaned down to kiss the tops of her breasts. As he kissed his way back up her chest to her lips, with his other hand he guided himself to her entrance. She lifted her leg up over his hip and circled him with her arms, gasping and groaning against his mouth. He teased briefly, before dipping down enough to tilt his hips and thrust inside her with her name on his lips.
He pulled at her, lifting her against the door and letting it bear the weight of them as he thrust fully into her. She brought her other leg up, hooking both around his hips as she panted for breath, a cry of need broken on her lips. It took a moment before he had them both balanced against the door and could find a rhythm to press into her. He could not be gentle with his hands on her hips and thighs and his fingertips dug into her as he moved, but it only spurred her on more, her hips twitching against his and her nails raking across his back.
His lips found hers and his tongue pressed greedily into her mouth when he wasn’t whispering Cauthrien or Maker or yes against her breath.
The door rattled in time with their rhythm, and they both laughed at it.
His was not just driven just by the sound of the door but also the thought that anyone could hear them, that there wasn’t any question about what was happening between them. It was a kind of freedom, liberation and exultation. He rocked his hips harder and leaned into her to feel his skin on hers.
She left kisses on his lips, at the corners of his mouth, her lips sliding over his jaw and to his throat, then back again. She suckled and nipped and he groaned, pace quickening as she bore her hips against him. There was a softness in her kisses, and a need. He felt nearly done in by the sensation of both as he rocked into her. His chest felt tight at he met her kisses with his own, thrusting against her and hearing the door thunk behind her. He flicked his tongue across her lips, her tongue, caught her bottom lip between his teeth then kissed it and let it go, tilting his chin to kiss along her jaw and to leave fresh marks on her neck.
Her head fell back against the wood, her eyes fluttering closed, lips parted in a cry that fast turned silent, but not before his name passed them.
He found her pulse with a kiss, licked and then pressed his lips hard against it. More than once he had stifled her cries with his kisses, but now they urged him on. For all her remembrances of discretion in the past week, he thrust into her, claimed her. He moved quickly against her, his control slipping, breath catching. He moved his hand from her back to the door to brace them both, thumb close enough to brush her cheek.
She turned her head to kiss his hand. Her kisses remained light and feathery, her lips more occupied with his name, with groans, with please, yes, Maker-
Her back ached from the unyielding strength of the door and her thighs trembled with holding her up on each of his retreats, and it was with a loud cry that she came, bucking violently and letting her head drop forward. Her arms tried to pull him tight against her, hands alternately digging into his skin and smoothing over it.
Her cry was nearly all it took for him. He thrust once, twice more, in quick succession, and then with a deep noise muffled against her shoulder he found his own release in her. A moment later, he pulled his lips away from her and swallowed to wet his throat that was dry now in the silence. He wanted to whisper to her as she trembled against him. Of love, or perhaps just, please stay.
He said neither.
His legs and back ached as the frantic need that had pushed them against the door faded from him. He let out a small grunt as he leaned away, tenderly pulled himself from her, helped her unhook her legs from him so he could stand properly.
Cauthrien groaned, not a sound of pleasure but of coming back to herself, as she put her feet on the ground and pushed away from the door. She was unsteady on her feet and stayed close to him, fingers curling around his wrist to keep him tethered to her. Looking at him with an embarrassed smile, she threaded her other hand through her hair.
He smiled and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. He didn’t exactly feel awkward, or shy, though he thought maybe he should after the noise they’d made, the way the door had rattled behind her. Instead, he was only happy, fulfilled in a way he didn’t think he could put into words. He didn’t try.
With her hand still on his wrist he pulled her close, his other arm sliding around her waist to embrace her.
"Mm." She curled an arm around him in return, nuzzling at his jaw and then taking a light kiss. "That was..." She chuckled, quietly, ducking her forehead to his shoulder. "Well."
He laughed with her. “Indeed.”
--
No word came of Edlyn's fate.
The search parties sent back messengers every few days with nothing encouraging. No trails were found. No news came from the villages they passed through. There was no sign of Edlyn or Owen, and Owen never returned from Hertwig.
The investigation ground to a halt.
It was an unsettling feeling, knowing that there was nothing that could be done, that they had unravelled things only to be held back by reality. There was no way to find them, or seemed to be, and all they were left with was a note and writing practice. A single incriminating poem.
But where before the stress would have pulled Cauthrien away from Teagan, made her frustrated and distant, now it made her go to him for support. She spent long hours with him, spent many nights in his bed or with him in hers in turn. She moved her clothing to his chambers. She moved her writing instruments. She wrote many of her letters from his writing desk.
When she could forget about Edlyn, it was almost idyllic.
Ten days after the search party set out, Cauthrien sat penning an update to Anora. Her letter revealing her affair with Teagan had likely not even reached Denerim, and so she wrote as if unaware of any particular censure. She noted goings-on in the bannorn, Teagan's disposition, the lack of communication from the Warden-Commander. She even made a note of his unwavering (and very welcome) attention on her - proof that it was no ploy.
And then she went to date the missive, and froze.
20 August.
It wasn't a particularly special day. It commemorated no event and was only sixteen days since she had arrived in Rainesfere. But it was also over a month since she remembered her last bleeding. The last time had been several weeks before Funalis, she remembered that clearly, and that left her-
No.
She capped her ink and stood up, rolling her shoulders back. She felt no different, and what she had told Teagan had been true - there was nothing to worry about. There was no way she could be with child. Loghain, who had fathered a child, had been with her countless times over many months, and she had never missed a bleeding. She was barren; there could be no other answer.
The month, she decided, had just been stressful. And with that set aside (though with a hand settled lightly over her belly), she blotted the letter, folded it, and went to post it.
--
It bothered him every day when he woke up and there was no news from the search party. Days and evenings with Cauthrien helped alleviate some of the anxious tension - most of it, even - but it was always there again in the morning. What time he spent without Cauthrien was almost always in his office, with Raud, working. With each message that came, he hoped it would bring news of Edlyn. It never did, except to say, nothing new.
What he could enjoy was being with Cauthrien, sharing meals and not caring how the staff looked at them when he reached for her hand over the table, or led her from the table after dinner or a spelling lesson in his office, to his room (or hers). It wasn’t that their relationship wasn’t minded. There were several people, Raud among them, that seemed to disapprove of the two of them together. Where everyone but Raud was concerned, he told himself that while he understood their concern, he was happy and that with time, the focus on them would eventually fade.
But when it came to Raud, he couldn’t escape the older man’s disapproval. What he did have to counter it was the knowledge that Cauthrien’s appointment was only through the month and that Anora had been informed of their relationship. The combination of those things seemed to make his senseschal at least learn to keep further comment to himself. On more than one occasion, Teagan wondered if Raud kept quiet with that knowledge in the hopes that when Anora’s response came, there would be official word recalling Cauthrien to Denerim. At least Raud seemed continually disappointed she had yet to respond, looking as constantly for her letter as they all did for a message from the search party.
Teagan hoped Anora would never respond.
--
It was nearly two weeks after the search party had left that word finally came.
It came not in the form of a letter, or the return of the guard, but the return of Owen, the butcher’s son.
11
Authors: cherith & serindrana
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing: Bann Teagan/Ser Cauthrien
Series Rating: NC-17/AO
Chapter Rating: NC-17/AO
Series Wordcount: 99,400
Chapter Wordcount: 7,759
Warnings: None
Summary: Having done everything to find Edlyn that they can think of, Cauthrien and Teagan settle in to wait and turn to re-establishing their relationship. (Ao3) (FF)
Notes: War is Never Cheap Here will be updating weekly, on Fridays. Projected length looking like twelve chapters.
We're sadly going to have to take another hiatus - two weeks again. See you again on the 28th!
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12
Chapter Ten
Raud said nothing about the kiss he had witnessed, but the man’s disapproval was evident as they walked back to Teagan’s office. It only grew moreso as they worked. Raud’s responses and questions were short, clipped words and downcast glances.
Teagan ignored the older man’s disapproval as best he could, focusing on the work and answering Raud’s questions. There were finances to deal with, food orders to be signed off on. A few petitions to be looked over in the privacy of his office instead of the clamor of his hall. Some of the tasks, he thought with something like a knot in his chest that he hadn't felt for some time, were ones the lady of the house usually handled. They were all his, though, familiar and rote.
As the time for dinner approached, Teagan asked after a bottle of wine and had it brought to his office. He was eager to see Cauthrien again, now that the uncertainty in his head had quieted somewhat, but he still felt unprepared. A glass of wine- two- helped to calm his nerves. He was almost grateful to Raud for the stares, for his frown, feeling bolstered by them somehow, though he was sure his seneschal would disapprove of that also, had he known. Still, Teagan used it as fuel for his confidence, his supposed rebellion against what was right or proper.
He took the bottle of wine with him to dinner and was there earlier than he needed to be, certain now that he was bold enough to say what he needed to. To face her again. He was waiting when she entered, all confidence and blossoming relaxation.
She smiled as she sat down across from him. "Sorry. I was in the yard- did you send the servant after me?"
"No," he said, with a chuckle to ease his lingering worries. "I did not, though I did sit for dinner early tonight." He nodded at his glass of wine. "And have already had a drink while I waited."
He looked up at her, eyes bleary with alcohol and fatigue, and sighed. "But I imagine that if Raud knows, they must all know by now." He even sounded tired, though the smile was still in place. His lips parted and he was on the verge of speaking again, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he lifted his glass and took a drink.
She considered him a moment, then reached for an empty cup and poured herself a measure of wine as well. "Well, they were kind enough to call me for dinner. And your guard, I think, like me a little more."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "Did something happen while you were out there?"
"I sparred with a few of them. It... was nice, actually."
“I see. I hope you were able to show them a few things. I’m sure they could use it.” Much as I needed it, he thought, remembering how she had overpowered him in the yard just a few days earlier. She seemed pleased, and he was glad that his men hadn't shared his reaction to her. "And if they like you for it, all the better."
She took a long drink, then slid a piece of parchment across the table to him. "I wrote Anora a new letter, to replace the one I haven't mailed yet. Look it over for me?"
He nodded and took another sip, bracing himself to read it. His eyes flicked to hers for just a moment before he pulled the letter off the table. He read over it slowly, trying to keep a neutral expression, until he found the last line.
In the intrest of ful disclozur, I am sleeping with Teagan.
He took a deep breath.
"I can see your spelling has improved." His ever-present smile was back in place, but it turned small and tight-lipped as he looked up at her. She was nervous and worrying at her lower lip, sitting with shoulders hunched forward as she leaned across the table, watching him. When he caught her eye, she downed the rest of her wine and then put the cup aside.
"I- yes," she said, blushing. "I had The History of Rainesfere open the entire time. To check against. Thank you."
She scuffed her boot against the stone beneath the table before adding, "And I felt that the situation- my earlier letter no longer reflected it."
He put the letter back on the table and slid it to her, focusing his eyes on hers.
“And you feel... the last is worth mentioning now? To Anora?” He had to force the words out, they were hard, edged as though they were painful for him to say. And they were, he wouldn’t keep from addressing it- she had obviously wanted him to see the mention, and that she no longer asked for the possibility of another assignment.
He supposed he should be pleased by it and he wanted to be. A somewhat public display of affection, the camaraderie she built with the guards, how she felt... whatever she felt, it was strong enough to mention it to Anora. He should be pleased.
And yet.
Cauthrien shifted awkwardly across the table from him. Had she intended to cheer him with the mention? The look of uncertainty creasing her brow suggested as much, as did her wavering voice when she spoke again.
"It will surely get back to her soon. Especially if we... stop pretending that nobody in the Keep knows. ... Would you prefer I remove it? If it bothers you to know she'll see it-"
“You would remove it?” he asked, not intending to do any such thing, but surprised by her offer all the same. “If I asked?”
Cauthrien shrugged, sitting back. "Of course I would."
That at last softened the edges around his eyes, his lips. He reached for his wine again and took another sip, this one slow, thoughtful. When he set it back down he leaned forward, forearms flat on the table.
“I won’t ask you to do so,” he said softly. “I- I think you’re right, in that she’ll find out soon enough. Though I would like to think my staff wouldn’t be so loose-lipped.” But he knew better that people talked, servants to friends, family, the people they worked alongside every day. Eventually, Anora would know. It was better for Cauthrien if the news came from her - something she had said days ago.
"But if you asked, I would," she said with a small smile. "It concerns both of us."
“It does,” he said with a nod. Both politically and emotionally. He wanted to ask, why now or because of this afternoon, but he held his tongue.
She tugged now at the end of her ponytail, considering him. "But I also... feel done with hiding it. Not just because others know, either."
Something began to unfurl in his chest, the tension in his shoulders easing not from drink but from comfort. He slid one of his hands across the table, fingers spread and reaching for her. “Thank you.”
A small smile touched her lips and she reached out as well, settling her hand atop his.
"You're welcome. I'll have it sent out with the morning post, then. ... Teagan."
His name. She had said his name, in the open, where anyone could hear it, with no title, no propriety. He had used hers often enough without care, but to hear her do the same-
He smiled, and it was genuine, his fingers curling tight around her as he squeezed her hand. “What do you think she’ll do? Our Queen?”
He could think of several scenarios and while many of them he found somewhat hilarious (even Anora tearing through the castle in a fit of rage was funny enough of it’s own merit), the threat she would recall and possibly issue some punishment for Cauthrien was not.
Cauthrien looked thoughtful a moment. "... She may call me home, though the message might not arrive before three weeks are up. She may also, once I leave, send somebody else to investigate you. It depends on how much she thinks I've been- compromised. And how much she thinks you really are plotting something."
Her thumb stroked along his hand. "Or she might not care, even if it's hard to imagine. I've begun to wonder if she didn't send me here to just get me out of her hair, rather than to question you."
“I doubt this was exactly her plan, whatever her reasons for sending you might have been.” He frowned down at her letter. “I guess we’ll find out when her response arrives.”
Teagan tried not to think about what the other options Anora would have for investigating him, who else she might send, if it came to that. He shrugged and turned his eyes back on Cauthrien, squeezing her hand in his.
“It’s not quite the romantic reveal I imagine her Antivan mysteries having though, is it?”
Cauthrien snorted, grinning. "Do you have a more- romantic idea? I don't exactly know how her books handle it. I suppose I could go on at length with details..."
She rolled her eyes and shook her head at that, and he couldn't help but laugh.
"No, not really," he said with a shrug. "Just thinking out loud. I'm not really up for sharing anything more than you think is necessary with her, queen or not."
--
The meal passed in their now accustomed fashion - Cauthrien ate, more than she was used to eating or had eaten before coming to Rainesfere, and Teagan picked at his own food and watched her. They talked about little things: the state of the guards' fighting skills, the seasoning of the food, how nice the wine was.
They used each other's names without titles more than once.
At the end, Cauthrien rose to her feet almost reluctantly, then reached to take her letter back. There had been no interruptions to their meal by Raud or by any runners from the search party, but she took the solitude as a gift and not more cause to worry. As she folded the parchment again, she looked to Teagan. What else would there be? A spelling lesson? A quiet invitation back to his room- or should she invite him to hers?
He met her questioning look with one of his own, smiling.
“Have you had enough then?” he asked as he took the last sip of his wine and then pushed away from the table. “I know I’m finished, at least with dinner.” Dinner seemed to have helped his mood. He wasn’t completely the seemingly carefree noble that he usually was, but he was also no longer as melancholy and brooding as he had been that afternoon.
She nodded. "Enough of dinner, yes." Cauthrien licked her lips in search of the next words. "... Will you be retiring for the night?" A no would invite suggestions of how to fill the time; she could think of a few. But she still couldn't read him entirely and didn't know if he would prefer to retreat again.
He shook his head and moved around the table to stand near her. “No, I don’t think I’m quite ready to.” He arched a brow, a sly question. “And you?” He stepped closer and then spared a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was nearby. Alone, he leaned in reached a hand to her face, his thumb a gentle caress against her cheek.
That drew a smile from her. It was unexpected even to her; who would have thought that a potentially public display of affection would have made her smile, openly? But she did, and leaned into it.
"I'm a little tired, but hardly ready to sleep."
His smile broadened. “It is the same for me.”
“And, I’m sorry about this afternoon,” he sad softly. “I am.”
"I still don't understand what was wrong," she admitted with a tight little smile. "... But I will make whatever it was better." She couldn't find Edlyn and bring her home herself; she was stuck in Rainesfere feeling powerless instead, feeling embarrassed for having accused the wrong man. But if she could fix this, at least? It was something.
And he seemed to be recovering. It was with a small smile that he shrugged and said, “I could try to explain, though I’m not sure I could do it well.”
"This morning," she said, moving beyond it to somewhere easier, "we- discussed the possibility of you coming to my room instead? But as I said, it does have a smaller bed. It's smaller all around, actually. And still filled with Edlyn's practice writings. It- may not be the best place at the moment."
“It was a joke, mostly." His fingers slid from her cheek and he took her hand, twining their fingers together. "Though on a different day, I would not be adverse to waking up in your bed, instead of mine.”
"On a different day?" She rubbed at her neck as she laughed and smiled. The marks he'd left were quite visible, her skin consciously left bare. She went all in or not at all, and she'd made her decision for the rest of the month. The guard had been sure to see it. The servants too.
It didn't fill her with the trepidation she expected.
"And what do you feel today?"
“Today?” He smiled and squeezed her hand, giving it a gentle tug towards him. “Or tonight, I suppose. I’d be happy to be with you wherever you want to be.”
"... The stables?" she offered with a wry grin. But then she shook her head and stepped that last little bit closer to him, close enough that should she have wanted to, she could have found his lips with her own. But for the moment, she just stood near him, considering.
Did she have the confidence and conviction needed to walk straight back to Teagan's room with him?
No. Well, at least not at that very moment, but she didn't want to part ways. "We could- take a walk? Along the battlements, maybe? You've been sitting in offices too much."
“I would like that,” he said with a nod. He was still smiling and looked at her hopefully. “Shall we then?” He let her hand go and held his up, elbow extended as a gentleman would for a proper lady. “If you’re ready?”
She eyed that extended arm with a small pause, as if unsure whether she should take it. She remembered vaguely him calling her my lady when he'd brought her back to her room her first night in Rainesfere. Had he offered her his arm then?
But, of course, things had changed there, too. If she was going to- be public with a bann, there were certain small rules she would have to learn to play by. And so she took his arm, even though it made her vaguely uncomfortable, feel vaguely out of place.
"I am. Lead on- you know your keep better than I."
He gave her hand a pat with his free one and led her outside. The battlements were easily gained, the journey brief enough by his side. It was a beautiful evening, cool but not cold yet, the air moist and carrying the scene of the fields around the keep. There was rain coming; she could feel it in the air.
She spared a momentary thought to the search party and hoped that any signs they might find wouldn't be harmed from whatever weather came their way.
As they stopped he let his arm fall, grabbing her hand and pulling it into his. Smiling, he tugged playfully and keeping an eye on her, took a step away.
She quirked a brow and followed him a step. "Yes?"
“This is nice,” he said and pulled her another step, then another. “Outside, even.” He let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. He squeezed her hand and, without moving, pulled her a bit closer.
When he spoke again, his voice was more reserved, a little uncertain.“Cauthrien, I know this can’t be what you expected." He looked down at their joined hands a bit nervously. “Even without this investigation, it hasn’t been easy.” Teagan pursed his lips, brows furrowing, and after a moment he looked back up to her. “But are you at least... happy here? With me?”
"You know I didn't expect anything. Good or bad," she said, smiling thinly to hide her sudden nervousness. Thoughts from the day before, of betrothals and what her fate would have been had she not joined the army and had the support of Loghain Mac Tir, returned unbidden.
That wasn't what he meant, of course, but the moment was all the same a little too intimate.
But she didn't run, instead just looking down at their hands. "... But I am. Happy, that is. More than I think I rightly should be." The last was confessed in a quiet voice, her words rough. "That is to say- sometimes it doesn't make sense to me."
He stroked his thumb along her hand. “I’m not sure it makes sense to me either at times. I’m glad you’re happy, though - it's the least we can hope for. I like to think I know what I’m doing most of the time,” he said with a shake of his head, “but right now, I’m not sure that I do. With any of this. It’s a bit overwhelming.”
"That's one way to put it," she said, that thin, wry smile appearing again. "... I feel bad, now, for hoping that something interesting would happen that I could write to Anora about. It's hard not to think that wish somehow brought us..."
Edlyn. She sighed.
"I would have liked the month to... have just been us. Without this distraction."
“Indeed,” he said with a small nod.
And then he shook his head, leaning in close enough that she lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “I should write Anora a letter of my own, should I not?” he asked, voice a whisper and his lips not so very far from hers. “Dear Queen Anora,” he began, his tone irreverent and playful. “I have slept with your Ser Cauthrien and would very much like to continue to do so.”
She laughed as she fit herself against his side. Her lips brushed his lightly in that moment, and then she shook her head, still grinning. "To see her reaction to that," she mused. "Can you imagine it? I think she might just sit there for a very long time. And then set the letter down and not manage to find her quill again for a week."
Loghain's reaction would have been- even funnier, thinking of it now. The thought, far from unsettling her, made her smile broaden until the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkled from it. He leaned in and kissed her gently, letting out a small chuckle after.
“It would be worth watching, for certain.” He focused on her for a moment and then raised his hand to brush her hair back from her shoulder. “However, if you’re giving her notice, it would be wise for me to somehow respond.” He smiled and kissed Cauthrien’s cheek. “I suspect,” he whispered, “she will wonder about my intentions.”
"Mm, yes. I suppose you're right. What will you tell her? And will you sign it Bann Disappointment?" Her smile remained in place, a hand smoothing over the front of his doublet, reaching up to idly touch at his braid. She had seen him rebraid it just that morning, had taken it down the night before as she combed her fingers through his hair and dragged him close.
He laughed. “I should. Though I don’t know that she would appreciate the humor.” He tilted his face towards her hand, kissing at her palm.
“I don’t really know what to tell her. Admit the truth of it, as you have, I suppose? She’ll likely believe me to have some ulterior motive, much as she did when she sent you to me.” He chuckled and corrected, “To investigate me.”
"And I am still investigating," she cautioned, shivering at his lips against her skin. "If you do anything dastardly, I will still report it. Anora may doubt my objectivity - and I may, too - but I do know why I'm officially here."
Even if it wasn't something she cared much about anymore.
He grinned at that. Leaning in to her, he moved his lips from her hand, to her neck. Lightly, his lips at her ear and voice a whisper, he said, “I do have wicked thoughts, Ser Cauthrien. Though they are only for you, and nothing our Queen needs to know about.”
Softly, he kissed her ear, her neck, tracing out the marks he had left the night before. “Very- wicked- indeed,” he whispered, punctuating each word with a kiss.
"Maker," she mumbled, reaching out a hand to steady herself on the closest crenellation. Discretion was on her lips, her usual chiding, but she couldn't bring it from her throat. They weren't trying for the same sort of discretion anymore, and she didn't want to hide completely.
But still, was this the best place?
"We're in public," she pointed out, voice throaty and thin.
“We are,” he teased, brushing a kiss against her chin. It was a challenge - a question - and he followed it, flicked his tongue over her bottom lip then pushed his lips against hers. It was a light kiss, like all his others, patient but inviting and he pulled away after only a moment and gave her a questioning look.
"If people see," she managed, uncertain. He was only kissing her; it was only her mind that went beyond that, sought her belly where it coiled with heat stoked by the relief of having him against her, of not having to hide. She gave him a kiss in return, a little warmer, a little more forceful than his, her fingers curling against his shoulder, winding into the fabric of his doublet.
He sunk into her kiss, returning it with matched force. He pulled her as close as he could, his arms around her back and shoulders. Trailing light touches along the curve of her neck, the angles of her cheek, her jaw, he slid his hand along her throat. Slowly, that hand dipped forward, a light caress along her front.
She had promised to stop comparing him to Loghain, but it was inevitable. Loghain hadn't always taken her in an office or a bedroom; once or twice it had been in an equipment shed on the yard, another time in a small storage room in the palace. Those were public spaces, too.
But that had felt far different. In this moment, this place, it felt affectionate and playful instead of desperately needy. Her hands found his hips and kept him close, humming approval into their kiss.
His hand stopped somewhere around her waist, fingers dancing along the edge of her tunic, his thumb pressed against her making small, slow circles. He kept his lips against hers, parted slightly and his tongue tentative against them.
She let him in with a low sound back in her throat, fingers tightening against him. Just a little. They'd indulge just a little, enjoy the freedom that came from not hiding. The night was good and they could do nothing but wait - wait, and live the time they had left together.
Her own fingers danced along his hips and then under the edge of his doublet, feeling for the skin she now knew the texture of so well, the warmth of.
He took a step forward, pressing her against the crenellation where her hand had rested moments before. He sought skin with his touch, and when he found it, fingers slipped up beneath the hem of her tunic, he deepened the kiss. It brought another sigh from her throat, another needy little noise, and she leaned heavily on the stone behind her, using it and its chill to keep her steady.
Her hands left his hips to trail up his sides and around his back, until she could splay her fingers over his shoulder blades in a bid to keep herself upright and close to him and not just at his mercy.
There were distant sounds of people working, of the world carrying on, of the weather, but they were for all intents and purposes alone. She let go of herself into him.
As he took hold of her waist, Teagan groaned, breathy but low and deep- wanting. He murmured something like her name as he pulled away from their kiss, to move his lips to the curve of her neck, teasing nips down to her collar.
"Maker," she whispered, almost just an exhale, sliding one of her hands from under his shirt and into his hair to hold him close to her. All her weight rested on the stone behind her and she let her head fall back, her eyes close. Her fingers pressed tight patterns to his skin, her hips shifted, rolling towards him.
It drew a louder, more urgent sound from his lips and he pulled his head back so he could look at her. He kissed at her column of her throat and he bit at the other side of her neck, the side he had left unattended. His hands pushed her tunic up, fingers digging roughly at her skin until they brushed the fabric of her breastband.
Outside, she thought to remind him, but his mouth on hers again, distracting, and the spiral of heat at his touch was too much. She was losing control of the situation, and fast, and she repeated again and again that they were effectively in private. She didn't want to push him away. She kissed him deeply instead, a moan slipping from her throat.
The only control she managed to cling to was how she didn't move to undress him. Her hand under his shirt stayed stroking at his skin, clutching at his back, but she never moved to work at the toggles of his doublet or the laces of his pants.
He pressed her against the stone, thumbs caressing and kneading at her breasts. He rocked against her insistently, his hips rolling forward, his thigh pushing between her legs. She groaned and parted her legs enough that his thigh could fit between them. There was something about this, the needy push, the night air around them, the fact that they were upright, that made her anxious and aroused, responding more than she had intended. Rocking her hips against him was too good, sending shudders dancing through her, and she arched her back to press her chest more firmly into his hands.
There was a fine line she was walking, between needy lover and wanton dalliance. No more than this- they would have no more than this before finding some room. His room. The office. Something, somewhere, where a closed door gave them privacy and her the reminder of respect. She knew he respected her, but her skin being bared to the night air both wound her up and made her uncertain. Before, they had barely touched hands in public. Now, he would make her cry out on the walls of his keep?
He pressed against her, fingers more focused, more demanding against her breasts, even through the fabric of her band, but he did not try to move beneath it. He did, however, lower his head, to press kisses lower, as far as the collar of her tunic would allow and then stepped a leg back enough to nip at the skin just above her the tight swath of fabric binding her chest.
In the brief moment when his lips left hers, she whispered, "Maker, Teagan-" and a handful of wordless needy sounds, arching as he kissed at her skin, whining as he pulled away.
He moaned and rocked his hips against hers again, then leaned forward to kiss her, to quiet her, to drink her in. It was hard to protest when she felt as she did, a little wild, a little irreverent. But the feeling was still there, the uncertainty, and she wanted. She wanted badly, and it couldn't happen out here.
She leaned back enough to gasp, "Inside. We need to go inside."
He let out a low noise, almost a growl against her throat as she moved her mouth away from his. He moved his leg, sliding it to the side and then between her legs again. His head fell forward, hair falling in his face as he pressed his forehead to her cheek. He took a breath even as he tilted his chin forward, a kiss against her jaw, but said nothing.
She forced her hands out from under his doublet, instead reaching up to catch his jaw in her hands, thumbs stroking over the short stubble along his jawline. "Inside," she repeated, wanting nothing more than to kiss him again.
It was an odd feeling, foreign, but if this was public - well. It crossed a line of seriousness, of the nature of their relationship, and she wanted the respect of a private room.
Cauthrien didn't want to be known as anything beyond - worse - than just his lover, and rutting on the battlements would not help her.
He leaned into her hands and then tilted his head up enough to look at her. His lips parted as if he would speak, but no sound came out and, finally, his hands moved to the stone behind her. He pushed himself away and looked to the ground, taking another breath, this one deeper than the last.
When he looked up again, it was with a nod and a murmured assent. “Inside.”
Her hands dropped from his face, but as she pushed herself up from the stone, body protesting and throbbing with frustrated desire, she felt- better. Very much better. She touched fingers to the side of his hand.
"Your room, yes?" she asked, voice pitched low but not to a whisper. Polite, but not afraid. Not paranoid that somebody listened.
"I'll walk to it with you."
--
Teagan's thoughts were still hazy and focused only on the warmth of her, but those six words made him stop before he tried to kiss her again, before he could think again of the great boon that was her penchant for wearing tight-fitted leggings.
His lips twitched, a small smile in place already at the thought of the two of them, a bit messy, a little flush, making their way to his room. It wasn’t this- it wasn’t what it could be in the cool evening air, cold stone and little else around them, but it was her small surrender to him.
He nodded, “Or yours.” After sweeping a hand through his hair, he reached down to grab her hand. He quirked a brow in question as he twined his fingers with hers.
"Papers on the floor," she reminded him, squeezing his hand and pulling him in the direction of the keep proper. "Or I would, if only for the change." She offered him a small smile, thumbing at her lips with her free hand, looking a little bashful, a little aroused - and most of all, relieved and pleased.
“Right, the papers,” he said. His smile was indulgent, his attention wholly hers. He followed her, happily, hand in hers. They passed a guard on their way inside and Teagan was torn between averting his eyes and pulling his hand away, or giving the man a challenging stare. He chose the latter, with a smile.
Cauthrien also didn't look away. It was a thrilling and nervewracking moment, to see her abandoning in some measure her discretion. And then it passed, and they were just walking, hand in hand, through the hall.
When they got to the door to his bedroom, he pulled her inside quickly, giddiness of their walk through the house surging through him. He turned, body against hers, as he reached a hand behind her to close the door.
He stepped forward, pushing her back up against the closed door. For once, there was nothing of discretion or sound or worry on his mind as he kissed her. He brought his hand away from the door, grabbing at the back of her neck and lacing his fingers into her hair, while his other hand went to her hip, pulling her close.
This. Maker, but this... abandon was what he wanted, both from her and himself. He let himself sink against her, and into the kiss.
She groaned into his mouth as her back contacted the wood, her hands going to his hips. She met his fervent kiss with her own, filled with little nips and long swipes of her tongue. It was intoxicating, how well she knew where to touch to make him rise, and he groaned as her hands slipped beneath his doublet again. They lingered against his skin only a moment, a few dancing plucks of his arousal, before she pulled away enough to begin working at the clasps.
His hand moved from her hip, trailing across the front of her leggings, already searching for the laces, for a way to remove the barriers between them. He moaned into her kisses, the gentle swipes of her tongue, the less gentle teeth on his lips and he returned them in kind. His skin felt warm at the touch of her hand just the feel of her fingers stirring him.
He let loose his grip on her hair to work both hands against her leggings, pulling her hips just away from the door as he worked. As soon as the laces were undone, his hands were against her skin. He tugged her tunic over her head, casting it aside. In an instant, his fingers found her hips again, slipped beneath her smalls and cupped her rear, pulling her close. She rolled her hips forward against his, squirmed as if to push her leggings down without using her hands. Her hands she kept busy between their chests, and when the fasteners were all undone, she slid his doublet from his shoulders hastily, hands spreading over his shoulders and gripping his upper arms.
Leaning into her, he moved his hands with the roll of her hips, pushing her leggings down. He pulled his arms away after that only long enough to let his doublet fall to the floor, and slid a foot behind him to kick it out of the way. When he could, he wrapped his arms around her, careful not to crush hers.
His head dipped down to nip at her the curve from her neck to her shoulder.
“Cauthrien,” he breathed. It was needy, wanting, a prayer and demand in a name.
She twined her arms around his neck, reaching back to undo the fastener on her breastband, letting it fall as she leaned against him. She let her head tilt back and returned a throaty, "Teagan, Maker-"
He slid a hand down between them reaching for the lacings on his breeches, tugging them loose. He pressed Cauthrien to the door, running his other hand down from her shoulder, kneading at a breast. He only reluctantly trailed his touch down her stomach until he could bring his other hand to finish undoing his breeches, sliding them and his smalls down from his hips, toeing his shoes off as they fell to the floor.
She touched her hands to his chest, pushing him back just enough that she could kneel and pull the laces of her boots loose quickly, shoving them off and to the side along with her leggings and smalls. He ached as he watched the curve of her back, the flex of her shoulders, and as soon as she was on her feet again, he pressed up against her. Her mouth sought his and he gave it to her eagerly.
He reached for her hip with a hand and with the little space between them he leaned down to kiss the tops of her breasts. As he kissed his way back up her chest to her lips, with his other hand he guided himself to her entrance. She lifted her leg up over his hip and circled him with her arms, gasping and groaning against his mouth. He teased briefly, before dipping down enough to tilt his hips and thrust inside her with her name on his lips.
He pulled at her, lifting her against the door and letting it bear the weight of them as he thrust fully into her. She brought her other leg up, hooking both around his hips as she panted for breath, a cry of need broken on her lips. It took a moment before he had them both balanced against the door and could find a rhythm to press into her. He could not be gentle with his hands on her hips and thighs and his fingertips dug into her as he moved, but it only spurred her on more, her hips twitching against his and her nails raking across his back.
His lips found hers and his tongue pressed greedily into her mouth when he wasn’t whispering Cauthrien or Maker or yes against her breath.
The door rattled in time with their rhythm, and they both laughed at it.
His was not just driven just by the sound of the door but also the thought that anyone could hear them, that there wasn’t any question about what was happening between them. It was a kind of freedom, liberation and exultation. He rocked his hips harder and leaned into her to feel his skin on hers.
She left kisses on his lips, at the corners of his mouth, her lips sliding over his jaw and to his throat, then back again. She suckled and nipped and he groaned, pace quickening as she bore her hips against him. There was a softness in her kisses, and a need. He felt nearly done in by the sensation of both as he rocked into her. His chest felt tight at he met her kisses with his own, thrusting against her and hearing the door thunk behind her. He flicked his tongue across her lips, her tongue, caught her bottom lip between his teeth then kissed it and let it go, tilting his chin to kiss along her jaw and to leave fresh marks on her neck.
Her head fell back against the wood, her eyes fluttering closed, lips parted in a cry that fast turned silent, but not before his name passed them.
He found her pulse with a kiss, licked and then pressed his lips hard against it. More than once he had stifled her cries with his kisses, but now they urged him on. For all her remembrances of discretion in the past week, he thrust into her, claimed her. He moved quickly against her, his control slipping, breath catching. He moved his hand from her back to the door to brace them both, thumb close enough to brush her cheek.
She turned her head to kiss his hand. Her kisses remained light and feathery, her lips more occupied with his name, with groans, with please, yes, Maker-
Her back ached from the unyielding strength of the door and her thighs trembled with holding her up on each of his retreats, and it was with a loud cry that she came, bucking violently and letting her head drop forward. Her arms tried to pull him tight against her, hands alternately digging into his skin and smoothing over it.
Her cry was nearly all it took for him. He thrust once, twice more, in quick succession, and then with a deep noise muffled against her shoulder he found his own release in her. A moment later, he pulled his lips away from her and swallowed to wet his throat that was dry now in the silence. He wanted to whisper to her as she trembled against him. Of love, or perhaps just, please stay.
He said neither.
His legs and back ached as the frantic need that had pushed them against the door faded from him. He let out a small grunt as he leaned away, tenderly pulled himself from her, helped her unhook her legs from him so he could stand properly.
Cauthrien groaned, not a sound of pleasure but of coming back to herself, as she put her feet on the ground and pushed away from the door. She was unsteady on her feet and stayed close to him, fingers curling around his wrist to keep him tethered to her. Looking at him with an embarrassed smile, she threaded her other hand through her hair.
He smiled and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. He didn’t exactly feel awkward, or shy, though he thought maybe he should after the noise they’d made, the way the door had rattled behind her. Instead, he was only happy, fulfilled in a way he didn’t think he could put into words. He didn’t try.
With her hand still on his wrist he pulled her close, his other arm sliding around her waist to embrace her.
"Mm." She curled an arm around him in return, nuzzling at his jaw and then taking a light kiss. "That was..." She chuckled, quietly, ducking her forehead to his shoulder. "Well."
He laughed with her. “Indeed.”
--
No word came of Edlyn's fate.
The search parties sent back messengers every few days with nothing encouraging. No trails were found. No news came from the villages they passed through. There was no sign of Edlyn or Owen, and Owen never returned from Hertwig.
The investigation ground to a halt.
It was an unsettling feeling, knowing that there was nothing that could be done, that they had unravelled things only to be held back by reality. There was no way to find them, or seemed to be, and all they were left with was a note and writing practice. A single incriminating poem.
But where before the stress would have pulled Cauthrien away from Teagan, made her frustrated and distant, now it made her go to him for support. She spent long hours with him, spent many nights in his bed or with him in hers in turn. She moved her clothing to his chambers. She moved her writing instruments. She wrote many of her letters from his writing desk.
When she could forget about Edlyn, it was almost idyllic.
Ten days after the search party set out, Cauthrien sat penning an update to Anora. Her letter revealing her affair with Teagan had likely not even reached Denerim, and so she wrote as if unaware of any particular censure. She noted goings-on in the bannorn, Teagan's disposition, the lack of communication from the Warden-Commander. She even made a note of his unwavering (and very welcome) attention on her - proof that it was no ploy.
And then she went to date the missive, and froze.
20 August.
It wasn't a particularly special day. It commemorated no event and was only sixteen days since she had arrived in Rainesfere. But it was also over a month since she remembered her last bleeding. The last time had been several weeks before Funalis, she remembered that clearly, and that left her-
No.
She capped her ink and stood up, rolling her shoulders back. She felt no different, and what she had told Teagan had been true - there was nothing to worry about. There was no way she could be with child. Loghain, who had fathered a child, had been with her countless times over many months, and she had never missed a bleeding. She was barren; there could be no other answer.
The month, she decided, had just been stressful. And with that set aside (though with a hand settled lightly over her belly), she blotted the letter, folded it, and went to post it.
--
It bothered him every day when he woke up and there was no news from the search party. Days and evenings with Cauthrien helped alleviate some of the anxious tension - most of it, even - but it was always there again in the morning. What time he spent without Cauthrien was almost always in his office, with Raud, working. With each message that came, he hoped it would bring news of Edlyn. It never did, except to say, nothing new.
What he could enjoy was being with Cauthrien, sharing meals and not caring how the staff looked at them when he reached for her hand over the table, or led her from the table after dinner or a spelling lesson in his office, to his room (or hers). It wasn’t that their relationship wasn’t minded. There were several people, Raud among them, that seemed to disapprove of the two of them together. Where everyone but Raud was concerned, he told himself that while he understood their concern, he was happy and that with time, the focus on them would eventually fade.
But when it came to Raud, he couldn’t escape the older man’s disapproval. What he did have to counter it was the knowledge that Cauthrien’s appointment was only through the month and that Anora had been informed of their relationship. The combination of those things seemed to make his senseschal at least learn to keep further comment to himself. On more than one occasion, Teagan wondered if Raud kept quiet with that knowledge in the hopes that when Anora’s response came, there would be official word recalling Cauthrien to Denerim. At least Raud seemed continually disappointed she had yet to respond, looking as constantly for her letter as they all did for a message from the search party.
Teagan hoped Anora would never respond.
--
It was nearly two weeks after the search party had left that word finally came.
It came not in the form of a letter, or the return of the guard, but the return of Owen, the butcher’s son.
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