Of Wolves (2/2)
Title: Of Wolves (or, Little Red Riding Teagan and the Big Bad Cauthrien)
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Ser Cauthrien/Bann Teagan
Rating: M
Wordcount: ~15,00
Summary: The Regent has taken Ferelden and the paths have all grown dark. Teagan's brother has taken ill, but on his way to Rainsfere, he meets a wolf on the road... (ff.net & Ao3)
Notes: A fairytale AU, and our holiday gift to all of our readers. We're working on several longer offerings at the moment, but none are quite ready. Hopefully this will delight as it tides you over!.
Part 1 Part 2
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His sleep was punctuated with nightmares of Eamon's keep frozen in ice and shadows. Even after he woke, his breath streamed pale in front of him. The low fire only did so much, and there wasn't enough firewood to build it higher. He pulled his cloak on over his clothes to keep what warmth he could near his body.
He had a single goal: to see his brother.
But for two days, he had little chance. The mabari who followed him, his shadows once more, were not the same one he'd left outside his bedroom. He could make out differences in them now, in the way their snouts tapered or the shape of their haunches, in the way their kaddis was applied - little differences, but he marked each one.
On the third day, it seemed the shifts had come back around and waiting for him outside of his door was the one who was not so imposing, much like its master had seemed in the little mudroom closet. He made his way towards Eamon's room and the hound followed without protest.
Teagan hovered until after he was certain Ser Cauthrien had left his brother. Like he had three days before, he tried the handle and found it locked. The mabari gave a low grunt, and he supposed it was like a warning. He shook his head at it.
"I need to see my brother," he whispered. "I doubt you understand that, but you saw her-"
He slid his knife from his belt and pointed it at the door. "Something's different- something's wrong. And I just want to see him for myself." He took a deep breath before turning towards the door. "Now..."
He crouched low, pushing his cloak over his shoulders to settle behind him, and looked at the lock as he slid his dagger into place.
On another day, with one of the other dogs, it might have lunged for him, or placed it great mouth around his arm again, or let out an alerting howl.
It did none of that, instead whining quietly and coming close enough to paw at his knee.
He let out a sigh. "I know. But look-" He bent a knee to the floor to steady himself as he reached hand out for the mabari's head. He scritched it gently behind the ear. "What would you do if it was her on the other side of this door? You'd go after her, try to get in. Right?"
Teagan dropped his hand and turned to focus on the lock again.
"That's what I'm doing. ... Now, go on."
It blinked wide, golden eyes at him and let out another whine.
Then it backed away, hesitated, took another step back, hesitated- turned, and exited the hallway.
He focused intently on the lock and tried not to miss the comforting warmth of the mabari next to him. It seemed to like him, that one, and though he knew he shouldn't, some part of him felt bad for shooing it away. What little comfort comes...
He held his breath as he squinted into the lock, pushing the dagger as delicately as he could into the opening and feeling for the catch where it would slide the lock away from the door. But it had been too long since he tried to wheedle a lock open, and his hands were too cold and he had to stop every few seconds to resit the dagger in its place.
There was no warning before it happened, the sudden slam of heat against his back as Ser Cauthrien drove him against the door, hand catching his wrist and twisting hard enough to make the dagger drop. His fingers curled after his dagger, far too late to catch it.
There was no warning, no shout or curse or bark of a dog, and at first she said nothing, body hard against him and breath hot on his ear.
And then she growled. "Bann Teagan."
He grunted at the pressure of her against him, her warmth wrapped around him. He blinked and drew in a shaky breath, more surprise than fear. When he could speak again, it was only to answer his name with hers, though his voice was lower, soft and breathy and expelled from his lips all at once.
"Ser Cauthrien."
She was silent.
Perhaps somebody else would have asked and what were you doing or did you think you could get away with it. She didn't. She stayed close to him, drawing him up to standing while keeping him to the wood of the door, and when she finally spoke, she murmured, her voice losing some of its edge,
"I can't allow this."
He closed his eyes against the heat of her. His breath quickened and his heart hammered in his chest. His legs threatened to give, and would have were it not for her hands on him, and the door beneath him to keep him standing. He tried to speak, to ask what she had done with Eamon, why he wasn't allowed close- but his throat was thick with fear and his tongue felt swollen and wrong in his mouth. So he said nothing, forcing his eyes open. He could barely see her but he tried to turn, to stare her down, as if to ask what she planned to do with him now that he'd been caught.
"The Regent would have me lock you in a dungeon for this," she continued, her nose nearly touching his. The breath that had been hot on his ear was just as hot ghosting over his lips and chin.
"For doubting him. And me."
Her hand on his wrist tightened a moment, but then relaxed, only pressing his hand to the wood. Her other hand held his elbow, and one of her legs slipped between his to better pin him.
He took in a breath, nearly a gasp at the closeness of her, but it was one of hers that he inhaled and it felt as though it might burn his throat and lungs as it slid through him.
"And you?" he asked, little more than a breath returned to her- an exchange of her warmth for the chill of his own.
She didn't respond, lips pursing and breathing growing shallower, quieter, as she thought. She did not accept the breath offered, not until she smirked faintly, then looked to the hall.
"I would not lock a man in his brother's dungeons," she said, drawing back and pulling him with her. "But I cannot allow this."
At the end of the hall stood the three mabari, the two who were not quite so friendly stealing forward as Ser Cauthrien dragged his wrists behind his back.
He stared at the mabari he'd shooed away and shook his head at it, even as his arms ached in the knight's grasp. He fought the urge to struggle against her, too aware of the other dogs' approach and how exposed his throat must be to them.
"You had to tell on me, didn't you?" he asked it quietly.
The dog didn't meet his eyes, and let out a low whine.
"They're well-trained, and loyal," Ser Cauthrien said as she began to push him down the hall. "If one is soft, it is still within the confines of its training."
There was an edge to her voice, nervous and a little angry, and for a moment her grip on him tightened. The hounds fell in at her heels, with the one Teagan knew best dropping behind with his tail lowered.
She led him to another of the great chambers. It wasn't Teagan's, but one that was once held for guests. She took one of her hands from him only long enough to take hold of a key - not the same key, but a key that had been tucked into her belt as if she hadn't expected to need it - and unlock the door. The dogs at her heels snapped and snarled at Teagan to keep him in check as she pushed him into the room.
And then she locked the door behind him.
Inside, the windows had been shut but not shuttered, and a fire burned high and merrily. It was warm in the room, warmer than the rest of the keep, and the bed was layered in clean and heavy bedding, furs and wools.
He stared at door, then was compelled to test it, even though he knew it would be locked. It was. He drew close to the fire then, grateful for it, at least, and it was the warmest he had been since he'd left his home in Rainesfere. He wondered if it was her room. He could think of no other reason for it to so richly and so warmly appointed when the rest of the house seemed desolate.
"Loyal, indeed," he muttered to himself a he drew his cloak around his shoulders, and dropped to his knees, hunched over in front of the fire.
___
It was several hours later when there was a scratching at the door and then the sound of a key turning in the lock.
He stirred, lifting his head towards the sound as he stretched his legs and shoulders. He had slept there in front of the fire, warm and comfortable even on the floor, and it had been the best sleep of his stay thus far. But he knew better than to say that to her, and had the decency to look uncomfortable and frightened as the door opened.
It was not so hard, after all, except for when he remembered her breath stealing into him.
The mabari that had turned him over to her preceded her into the room, padding over to the fire and settling down with a whuff. Teagan shook his head at the mabari, but reached out to scratch its head all the same, small betrayals forgiven in front of the fire.
Behind the dog was Ser Cauthrien, with a plate heaped with food and a goblet of wine balanced in her hands. She locked the door behind her and then went to the small table, setting it all down.
The food smelled better than he could remember of other dinners, and perhaps it too was changed because he was warm and better rested. He found himself watching her eagerly, his hand resting between the mabari's ears.
She didn't seem to notice his gaze until she turned to leave again. She stopped halfway to the door, and after a moment of looking back at him, she looked instead to the mabari - who had scooted closer to Teagan.
"Softie," she muttered.
He wanted to say that someone needs to be, but he didn't know why, and the words sat on his tongue. He shrugged at the mabari as if to say he appreciated it, even if she didn't.
Before she reached the door he looked back to the food and then to her again and just to be sure- because he wasn't sure if this pleasant room and the warm fire also warranted him a meal- but it seemed to-
"That's for me, then?" he asked.
"Yes." Her hand rested on the knob, and she had yet to reach for the key. "I'll be bringing you your meals, just as I do Eamon's. You should at least be comfortable here."
"Thank you," was off his tongue before he could stop it and he looked away from her quickly. It was a ridiculous notion, thanking her for locking him away, not only from his brother, but from the rest of the keep. And yet it was the best kept he'd been, and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep from saying that as well.
She thankfully didn't respond. Ser Cauthrien's hand brushed her hip, searching for the key - now hung on a cord like the other - by touch as she looked to the mabari again.
"Hafter," she said, the first time she had named one of the dogs in his presence.
Hafter didn't respond except to roll onto his side, offering Teagan his belly.
His hand reached out for the marbari's- Hafter's barrel chest, and patted him. Company, even a mabari- even her mabari- was welcome when it was so amiable. He shook his head. "Incorrigible."
"I've never seen him like this," Ser Cauthrien huffed, crossing her arms over his chest. "Hafter, are you going to come or not?"
Hafter did nothing except twitch a paw.
Teagan pulled his hand away from the mabari. He was still smiling at the creature, but his stomach rumbled at the smell of food and he feared her sharp words if Hafter continued to refuse on his behalf.
With a small shrug he let his cloak fall away from his shoulders and he stood, stretched briefly and then made his way toward the food she'd brought.
Hafter stayed curled up by the fire.
Ser Cauthrien finally sighed and reached for the key again. "Very well. I'll be back later, with your evening meal and to retrieve him," she said, and then there was the click of the lock, and she slipped out of the room. The latch caught behind her as it had before.
He didn't begrudge Hafter his coziness in front of the fire, having been there himself for most of the morning. But he settled down at the table, and started into his meal, closing his eyes and savoring the richness of each bite. He'd eaten well here, when he'd eaten with her, but each bite of this meal seemed sweeter or more savory, the wine more full-bodied than any of his other meals. And he stopped several times to slow his bites, to keep from devouring it all as quickly as he could.
When it was done, he pushed away the plate and finished the last sip of his wine. He stood and retrieved his cloak from the floor, but it was warm enough he didn't need it, and he folded it together and laid it on the edge of the bed.
Even with the sleep he'd had earlier in front of the fire, he found himself tired again soon enough, his belly full and body warm. It was almost too warm now by the fire, especially with Hafter so close. Teagan shed his doublet, laid it on top of his cloak and then settled himself onto the bed. His hands curled into the furs and before long, he was asleep again, full and warm with bright firelight across his back.
___
There was no knock at the door, nothing except the clicking of the key in the lock, and then the creak of hinges. The key in the lock again.
He stirred at the sounds, and after several long moments where he could make out nothing more, he turned over slowly, looking down the bed to find Ser Cauthrien watching him. He smiled at her lazily, still half-asleep, still warm, and his fingers carefully unfolded from the fur beneath him. He was at ease, and what was there to fear, here in this room?
This time, she brought a tray with two plates, two glasses, a bottle of wine, and she looked almost... uncertain. When he caught her gaze, she looked away. She crossed the room to the table, setting down the tray. Hafter, still by the fire, lifted his head and rose to his feet with a yawn. He padded over and she reached a hand down to scritch at his ears.
"Apologies for waking you," she said, though to which of them he wasn't sure. "Your dinner is- on the table." She looked to Teagan, then, and paused where she was.
He blinked a few times, looking between her and Hafter and the dinner she had brought - two of everything. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, less hazy but still languid, still at ease.
"Are you eating here, Ser Cauthrien?" he asked, reaching up to rub at his beard.
"... I'd considered it," she said, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. The kaddis lines shifted with the motion, drawing his attention.
He canted his head. "Had?"
Her gaze dropped from his face- and then she turned around, reaching for her plate. "I should go," she said, and she moved quickly- nervously. She was more a skittish hound than a stalking wolf.
Teagan pushed up to sit forward on the bed, hand falling from his jaw. "I meant to ask you before, is this- I mean, the way it's decorated and warm- is this your room? Where you've been staying?" It was too late to ask really; he'd already slept in front of the fireplace, had a meal at the table, slept in the bed. But curiosity had the better of him, and boldness, too. For the third time he could see the woman beneath the wolf, and he found himself curious as to what her outlines were, what her true form was.
She looked to the door, and took a step towards it, but Hafter whined and settled down on the ground between her and it. Ser Cauthrien was forced to stop her retreat. She looked back to him, awkward in her military undress with food in her hands.
"This was where I was staying, yes," she said, tone sharp as she nudged at Hafter with her toes. The mabari pointedly didn't move. She sighed, then turned back to the table and set the food down.
"It's yours now, though. Until the end of the month."
He raised a hand and rubbed at the side of his neck nervously, very aware of his shirt folded at the end of the bed. He couldn't very well apologize for occupying the room she'd claimed for herself, when she had put him in it, but he felt odd about it all the same. He put his hand down and started to push himself towards the edge of the bed.
"And that's your plan then? To keep me locked here until the end of the month?"
"Two more weeks is not so long," she said. "I can bring books... other things to fill the time." She turned around again, and stopped short, watching him with parted lips. Her gaze turned hungry, and she swallowed. "Just-" she said, and her voice was a little lower, "just say the word."
He stopped, just as his legs hung over the side of the bed, his hands curled over the edge. He looked up at her, wary of the way that she stared.
In other circumstances, two weeks didn't seem so long. In his other room or the rest of the house, cold and dark and quiet, it would've seemed an eternity. But here, in this warmth, with fire and food and company...
"That would be nice," he said, fighting the urge to squirm beneath her gaze. It made him feel hot all over, his breath quickened.
Ser Cauthrien nodded, looking not as his eyes but at his mouth. "Tomorrow morning, then."
And then she turned towards the bed. Her first step was slow. The second step was measured, but she didn't slink to the bed, didn't prowl. The third was faster. The fourth brought her close, and the fifth-
On the fifth, she kissed him, lips hungry and hands going to the mattress on either side of him. He tilted his head back with her kiss, trying to inhale around her, too surprised to properly take a breath. She followed him, one knee going between his legs as she bore him back onto the bed. What started fumbling and chasing, lips to lips, gained heat as she trailed her tongue along his lower lip, begging entrance.
He gave in easily, lips parting for her, one of his hands reaching out for her. When he had any moment to breathe, he wondered at her, at the hunger in her kisses. But his own felt much the same, rising out of wariness and warm, languid ease, and his hands were at her back, pulling her close.
She pinned him with her weight, one hand finding his bared waist, the other finding his wrist. She didn't seem able to shake the drive to take, and she pinned him there as she moved to straddle his hips.
One of his hands slid down her back, his grasp less urgent, less needy, trying to balance out her persistence. His fingers grabbed her waist, a thumb reaching at the edge of her pants. There was a clink of metal as he hooked his thumb on the leather cord that held the keys at her waist.
For a moment, it felt as though his whole body tensed, holding still enough to let the moment pass and realizing how close he could be to freedom.
The clinking didn't seem to get her attention, or at least didn't make her pause. Her grip on him went between too tight and almost nonexistent, her kisses shifting between desperate and deep, light and searching. Her hand on his waist trembled, and her eyes were tightly shut, as if she tried to forget who he was- who she was.
With another breath he was moving again, gentle responses to her searching ones. His concentration centered on those cords, the keys at her waist that would let him out of this room and into his brother's. His fingers found the loop, and even as he arched up to return a kiss, he was fumbling to free one of the keys.
She groaned against his lips, then rolled her hips against his. The motion stretched the cord tight, tugging on her belt.
She froze.
And then she pulled away hard, gasping for breath and grabbing for his hand even before she could see what he was doing. Her grip was crushing tight, and her face contorted into a snarl. He stilled again, letting the cord slide out from between his fingers. He watched her with wide eyes, holding his breath as he waited.
But she didn't strike him, didn't shout, didn't do anything but reach for her belt. She untied the cords- and threw them behind her, to where Hafter waited. The mabari barked, then picked up the keys in his mouth.
"You," she growled, looming over Teagan again, catching his wrists and pinning them to the mattress.
Even with the temptation of the keys removed, he found himself stretching up to kiss at her throat, his hips rocking against hers.
It earned him another growl, though this was different from the first, trailing off into what was almost a moan as she met his rhythm, as she dipped her head to try and catch his lips again. Her hands were still tight on his body, almost painfully so, but her thumbs pressed more lightly, stroking over his pulse.
He thought to turn his head as she sought his lips again, but he met her lips with his. His wrists tried to turn under the pressure of her hands, but only to reach out to her again, keys or not, around her waist. He studied her between kisses, bright in the firelight, cheeks flushed. She'd said this was her room-
His room now, she'd brought him here instead of locking him away in the dungeons or his first room. Those were dark and frozen; they made him feel lonely, isolated. And she was anything but frozen.
Her hands released his wrists again, instead rising to cup his jaw as she deepened the kiss, nipping at his lip and sliding her tongue against his. He slipped his arms around her again, reaching up to her shoulders and pulling her down to him. His chin lifted to her, moving with her fingers as he let out a soft moan. The sound seemed to bolster her, and as she plundered his mouth she somehow fit her hand between them, tugging harshly at the laces of his breeches. Her lips left his in another moment, trailing over his jaw and to his throat, where she bit.
His hips rolled to give her better access, moaning again and louder. There was pain there, but not so much that he didn't want more from her, or that he felt like pulling away. And she soon soothed it with her tongue, suckling there and then nipping - more lightly, this time - further down as she finally loosed the knots and tugged his clothing down.
Teagan pushed his heels against the side of the bed, sliding under her and letting his pants fall to the ground. He pulled her up with him, a hand moving to her waist reaching again for the edge of her jacket and only briefly did he mourn the loss of the keys at her belt.
She pulled back after another nip, fingers tugging at the toggles of her jacket and then casting it aside. She didn't hesitate to pull her tunic over her head, or tear at the laces of her leggings. Her face was flushed and her lips parted, and her eyes never left his.
With the space between them, it was easier to remember who she was, to see hints of the knight he'd dined with that first night in the keep. She was different now- brighter, warmer, kaddis smeared across her face. He sat up and reached out for her, pushing at her clothes, removing more of the knight in favor of the woman beneath.
And she was a woman, beyond her flashing teeth and cruel smile, beyond her prowling of the halls, her snapping and snarling. She didn't catch his wrists and push him away, instead leaning in to his touch when his fingers brushed her skin instead of her clothing. She struggled to shuck her boots and slide from her leggings, but she managed it, descending on him again with only her smalls and breast band covering her skin - pale skin, surprisingly delicate skin except for the callouses on her fingers, rough as they dragged down his ribs. She abused his lips with tongue and teeth, pressing her body along his as if she sought- something.
His hands found her hips, grabbing at her again, smooth skin under his fingertips.
Her mouth left his for just a moment and she whispered, "What warm hands you have." Her lips curved into a wild grin, and her hand slid between them, curling around his length.
There had been a response, ready on his tongue until her hand wrapped around him. The words faded, replaced by a breath that had him tilting his head back into the furs beneath them. She chased him down, nipping at his pulse as she worked him in short, fast jerks, her own breath stuttering along his skin.
It wasn't enough. He arched up to meet her kisses, rocked his hips trying to keep up with the motions of her hands. He wrapped both of his arms around her, tightly, and tried to pull her to the side, to roll her over onto the bed. She yielded, hooking her legs around his. He pushed her to the mattress, a grin on his lips at the small power he had- if it was his one remaining freedom, he would take it.
Her own eyes were bright, hands searching as she released him, sliding over his chest and up into his hair to drag him down for another kiss. She groaned approval, pressing her hips up against him and pulling him down against her with a shift of her legs.
He moved a hand from around her to guide himself to her entrance, pushing her smalls out of the way and using the rocking of her hips to find the right moment and thrust inside. She cried out, head falling back and back arching. Her legs tightened around him and she took him deeper, her nails biting into his scalp. He leaned down, a hand against her jaw, brushing around her ear, and he kissed her cheek, kaddis beneath his lips. It wasn't gentle, but nearly desperate, heat and hunger building in his chest.
Her heel dug into his calf as she forced a rhythm for them, pulling her head back just far enough that she could catch his lips, smeared with her paint. She groaned something against his mouth, something that may have been yes or more or any of a thousand other small words, all translating to need.
Teagan worked with the rhythm she created, leaning down on her with rough kisses against her neck and cheeks as if he could steal her warmth through his lips, or sate his need- or hers, with each breath. He wrapped his hands under her shoulders holding her close against him as he rocked his hips with hers.
There was a noise between breaths that was not him, and as he opened his eyes and searched her face, he knew it was not her. He hesitated, faltered between motions and waited.
It sounded again- a knock at the door.
The servants had not bothered him before, not even in his own room, and his eyes went wide, looking at Ser Cauthrien below him. Fear spiked through him. She had locked the door, he had seen her do it.
If there was someone there-
He feared the worst, that something had happened with Eamon, or that the Regent had come to check on his knight's progress or had merely sent more soldiers to lend her aid.
"Ignore it," she growled, jerking her hips and clenching tight around him. She tried to force him over, hands shoving his shoulders and lips on his throat, drawing another helpless moan from him. "I'll take care of it," she growled, then bit. "I'll take- I-"
There was another knock, this one louder and more insistent. A voice followed, female and unfamiliar. "Bann Teagan?"
Another moment of clarity took him, fear giving way to the realization that there was a chance for freedom on the other side of that door. He grabbed Ser Cauthrien's wrists and held them to the bed as he pulled away. But there was a longing there, a warmth- a comfort that made it difficult. A need in them both that kept his lips on her skin, his hips moving with hers even as he rose, pushing space between their chests.
He took a shuddering breath, and the knocking turned to a pounding fist against the door. He closed his eyes for a steeling breath and pushed away from her, sliding his feet down, tiptoes against the cold stone.
The change in angle made his hold weak, though, and she was powerful, hissing through her teeth and trying to hook her legs around him, drag him back. When she couldn't find purchase, she jerked against his hold, kicking out. "I said ignore it- I said- Teagan-" Her eyes were wild and she broke free of him-
Only to be pinned back as Hafter leaped onto the mattress, covering her body with his. He growled, snout inches from her face, and she stilled, lips parted and brow creased in confusion - and hurt.
He stared at the mabari for a brief moment, then at Ser Cauthrien, before the voice on the other side of the door called for him again. He could hear something, someone, moving in the hallway. Her tunic was on the bed near Hafter's back paws and Teagan grabbed it, then wrapped a sleeve around one of Ser Cauthrien's wrists. She didn't resist except to curl her fingers, looking from Hafter to him, and then away at the far wall. He spared a look at the door as he reached for her other arm.
He called out, "I'm here."
Once he finished wrapping her other wrist, and knotting the sleeves together, he looked at her with something that felt a lot like regret. He almost didn't want to move away, but the person at the door was insistent and there was a glint of metal at the end of the bed-
And had it just been the two of them, if it had been different, he wouldn't have stepped away to retrieve the keys from the floor, fumbling with the cord.
"Teagan," Ser Cauthrien said, leaning up as best she could to look beyond Hafter to him. Her voice was hoarse from her sighs, soft, cracking along the edges. "I-" They failed her, and she growled, but it was from frustration and not anger, not triumph. She let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling.
He looked back at the bed with a small shake of his head. He toed at the ground, finding the edge of his pants and bent down to pull them on, waiting- or giving her time to find whatever it was she meant to say.
There was a shift, a creaking of the bed, as hound and human moved just a little. Hafter no longer snarled or threatened, instead laying his head down on her chest. Ser Cauthrien exhaled shakily, then said, barely loud enough to hear, "I'm sorry."
There were things he wanted to say, things he wanted to ask her about- everything. There was little time for that now, for anything else other than the keys he gripped tightly in his hand. He took a breath to say at least that he understood, or thought he did.
"Cauthrien," he said and there was a small nod of his head to go with it. He was at the door before he knew it, key against lock and his chance to say more was gone as the door shook under his hand.
"I'm here," he said again as he opened the door to meet his rescue.
The woman on the other side was Cauthrien in every opposite. Where Cauthrien was pale, she was tanned and dark; where Cauthrien's hair was pulled back tight, her hair was wild and free. Lines traced her face, but they were not paint. They marked the very surface of her skin. And where Cauthrien was tall and broad, she was small and slight, with not fire in her eyes but the heart of the earth.
She looked him over, in all his undress, and glanced to the woman and beast behind him.
"I have come," she said at last, voice accented from the forest, and he could see then the pointed tips of her ears peeking from her curls, "to request the aid of Arl Eamon against the Regent. But I arrived to find that wolves prowled these halls, and that he and you have been... consumed." She crossed her arms over her chest. "The servants led me here, and said the largest wolf of them all was within, with you."
He followed the woman's gaze to the bed. "She," he said as he turned back into the room, letting the door fall open still farther, "is no wolf. But I am grateful for your arrival all the same."
"Is she not?" the woman asked with a faint huff of laughter. "Well. Your brother's door is locked to me. Does she at least have the key?"
"I have only just claimed it." He held out his palm, both keys under his curled fingers. "As well as the one for this room."
It felt strange to offer them up so quickly after taking them for himself, but he let them drop to either side of his hand, turning it to keep just the cord between his fingers. He barely felt it when she plucked it away from him, and he sighed heavily with another look at Cauthrien.
"Let me go with you," he said. "I have asked after my brother for two weeks."
Teagan took a few steps back towards the bed, and bent to collect the rest of his clothes.
"Leave her," the woman said. "We lock her in; we will return to her later to deal with her. But a wolf, however docile, should not be allowed to prowl after us."
Cauthrien frowned, but did not protest, did not even work against the knots binding her wrists. She looked at Teagan instead. And she said, quietly, "Lock me in, or I will have to follow you."
He slipped his shirt on and then nodded, avoiding Cauthrien's gaze as he walked back towards the door. He pulled his cloak in a bundle, holding it close to his chest as he stepped out into the hall, passed the elven woman.
"It's the smaller key for this room," he said, his voice quiet and small in the cold hallway.
She didn't look at him with any sort of approval, or really anything at all, but she did lock the door and turn from him, beckoning him to follow.
He did follow, slowly, working to close the toggles on his doublet with shaking fingers while he stared at the strange woman in front of him. His interactions with elves were mostly limited to the servants and to meet this one was a strange experience. She seemed confident, almost commanding, and he wondered what it was, exactly, that had brought her to Eamon's house.
"Has someone sent you here, to find my brother?"
"I sent myself," she said as she led the way, without erring, towards Eamon's room. She must have walked those halls before, if only before she came to his door. But if that were the case, how had Cauthrien not heard tell of her approach?
"Your human Regent destroys the world," she added, fitting the key into the lock of Eamon's door. "And if you will not move to fight him, I will move you instead. I found the old treaties of this place, lost where nobody else had looked."
"They say my brother is sick," Teagan said. "Ser Cauthrien has had him locked away for the last two weeks. The Regent sent her, though I can only guess to his purpose." He waited for her to open the door, stepping in just behind her. She had only taken a few steps when Eamon's voice - thin, weak, but his - sounded from the bed.
"Ser Cauthrien?"
Teagan stepped around the woman and went to his brother. He crouched down at the side of the bed. "Eamon, Eamon? It's Teagan." He reached for his brother's hand, finding it in the pile of thick blankets.
Eamon was propped up, just a little, and though he was thin and pale, he managed a smile for his brother. "I didn't think I'd see you again," he said, with a glance to the elf who came to stand close by. "Is she gone, then? Has the Regent been stopped?"
Teagan looked up at the elf. "I don't know of the Regent, but the woman, Ser Cauthrien- she is locked in her room." He sighed heavily at the memory of her. When he at last returned his gaze to his brother, he added, "I've been here two weeks. Did she tell you?"
"She did. She told me when you arrived and when you asked after me, when I was awake enough to hear it." He struggled to sit up still more. "She said little beside that, except to get me to eat."
It wasn't much, but Teagan was glad to know that Eamon had at least known about his arrival. That he'd come to see after him, even if the way had been blocked by Ser Cauthrien. It was a small kindness that she'd given his brother.
At the foot of the bed, the elf snorted. "To eat? She was here to have you killed, no doubt."
"And who is she?" Eamon asked, looking between the two.
"I need your help. Your knights, to help me slay the Regent," the woman said, stepping closer. "And I need you well, to carry your banner."
"I have few knights left to me," Eamon said, shaking his head. "They left, when my son was revealed to be a witch. They left when the Regent darkened the skies. They've been gone for... months, at least."
"Then you will call them home, and I will drag them if need be."
"And who do you fight for?" Teagan asked, letting go of Eamon's hand so he could stand and meet the woman's gaze.
"For all of you, because you will not fight for yourselves." She shook her head, then tossed the keys to him. "Leave me with your brother, Bann Teagan."
He caught the keys, but opened his mouth to protest. He'd gone long enough without access to his brother and didn't care to leave again so soon. But the keys were in his hands, and this elf, whoever she was, wanted to fight for the people. For the moment, that would be good enough- and after, he would have plenty of time to see to Eamon's recovery.
And there were other matters: a woman just down the hall, and one of the keys would let him in.
"What of Ser Cauthrien?" he asked, slow and cautious.
"She's the Regent's dog. Kill her," the elf said with a wave of her hand, but Eamon shook his head.
"Not so quickly," he said, and looked to Teagan. "What do you think, brother? She seemed to be... bending, these last few days. What have you seen?" For the first time, he seemed to notice the kaddis paint streaked over Teagan's face in places, frowning. "I feel you've seen... quite a bit."
Teagan lifted his empty hand to his face, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Of course, his brother, even sick in bed, would see. He nodded.
"She has changed- she... I think she is less a threat now. Perhaps imprisonment would be sufficient punishment?"
The elf snorted, but Eamon nodded. "Fair enough." He took a deep, if rattling, breath and nodded. "Take care of that, brother, while I speak with our guest?"
With a nod, Teagan folded the keys into his hand and left the room.
His feet took him back down the hall he had just come, to the door that the elf had left locked, where Cauthrien waited on the other side. He still felt as though his skin tingled where she'd touched him, and with the elf and his brother safe behind him, soft waves of heat met him even in the chill hall.
Though he didn't need to, he called to her. "Ser Cauthrien?" His fingers maneuvered the smaller key into the lock but didn't move further. "Cauthrien?"
There wasn't a response at first, and then, "Teagan?" A familiar bark followed. He spared only half a thought to the other hounds, missing, and to the elf's words - prowled, as if they did no more.
He hesitated another moment, the key in the lock just waiting for him to turn it. Then he leaned into the door and with just a quick glance down the hall to make sure it was still empty, he turned the key and opened the door.
She wasn't on the bed. She had slipped her wrists free of his hasty bonds, and was sitting instead by the fire. She hadn't dressed and didn't make a move to leave when he slipped inside. Instead, she just rubbed behind Hafter's ears, and Hafter yawned and settled his head on her knee.
But Cauthrien did look to him. "Is everything well, then? Have you come to kill me?"
"My brother is awake," he murmured as if that was answer enough that things were well. Maybe they weren't, but it was a beginning of something and it relaxed the knot of worry that had built in his chest over the past months.
"And no." He shook his head, closing the door and then leaning back against it. "You are to be imprisoned."
"I understand. And I submit to it - it's not so bad." He thought he saw the barest hint of a smile before she looked back to the fire, the muscles around her mouth tightening. "... I'm glad. That she arrived. That it's over."
"Are you?" He watched her, more undone and undressed than he had ever seen her. Maybe she spoke the truth. But-
"Why?"
She shrugged, a rolling of muscles along her back and shoulders. "The Regent sent me to make sure your brother died. That was my order. We thought he was dying already... I thought he was. But if he didn't die, I was supposed to poison him at the end of the month, to finish the job." She shook her head, gaze dropping to Hafter. "He started to rally about a week ago. When it was just watching his death - I did not doubt."
"But when he showed improvement?"
Teagan pushed away from the door. She wasn't moving away from the fire, and where before he might have feared she would make a move for the door, to escape, it seemed less likely now. Not as she looked now, resigned and almost relaxed.
He rested at the corner of the bed, not so far from where she sat, and he watched her in the shadows of the fire. She was not so threatening from there, and he could see the curves and sloping lines along with all the hard edges. With Eamon safe, he felt no fear, and he leaned forward, hands clasped before him.
"You doubted then?" he continued, voice softer. "He said that you informed him I had arrived."
"I told him you arrived the day you did. He didn't hear me that day- but I told him the next. And the next." Cauthrien glanced back to him. "But yes. When he rallied, I began to doubt. I didn't want to complete my task, even if I trusted the Regent. If I trust him. You saw me in that room downstairs. I haven't slept in here for the better part of a week."
For the second time that day, Teagan felt as though he should be apologizing to her. There was nothing to be done for it now, though. The worst was over. Eamon was safe, and they were both free. He didn't doubt that under proper attention, his brother would be on the mend soon enough.
Teagan took in a deep breath, biting the words down before he said them. He could wish things had been different, but he couldn't apologize.
"You can sleep in here tonight," he said with a faint smile. He could offer her that at least.
"Thank you." With another stroke of Hafter's head, she rose up to her feet. She moved slowly, keeping her hands in his line of sight as she turned to him- to the bed. She came only close enough to retrieve her discarded clothing. "... And- I am sorry. For earlier."
For her lips on his, her body around him. Her meaning was clear in how she held herself, how she couldn't quite look at him, how her hand closest to him hesitated, as if to reach out.
"Don't be." For anything else, he thought. But not that.
She paused, tunic held over her chest but her legs still bare. "Don't be?"
He shifted on the bed so he could face her better and gave her a soft smile. "No. I only left- I only stopped- I needed to see after my brother, and that was my chance. But-" he reached a hand out and laid it on her arm. "I wouldn't have left otherwise."
And I came back.
She stared at him, lips parted. "Oh," she said. And then came the almost predictable clicking of Hafter's claws on the floor as he nudged the back of her legs. Cauthrien looked down, frowning. "You need to stop interfering. I know my own mind, thank you."
Hafter only wagged his stump of a tail.
Teagan chuckled and where his hand rested on her arm, his fingers slid around to give the slightest of tugs. He leaned forward.
"Is that so?"
"... Would you truly have a wolf in your bed?" she asked, and she was so much in that moment the woman beneath the armor, her kaddis smeared to the point where the patterns only existed by her hairline, by the crease of her nose. "Because I would bed down there, with you, if you'd let me."
Teagan stood and made up the small distance between them in only a step. His free hand moved to brush a thumb over the last remnants of kaddis. His fingers curled into her hair and he shook his head before leaning in to kiss her, a soft, shared breath.
"Where you see a wolf," he whispered, "I see a woman."
THE END
Fandom: Dragon Age
Pairing: Ser Cauthrien/Bann Teagan
Rating: M
Wordcount: ~15,00
Summary: The Regent has taken Ferelden and the paths have all grown dark. Teagan's brother has taken ill, but on his way to Rainsfere, he meets a wolf on the road... (ff.net & Ao3)
Notes: A fairytale AU, and our holiday gift to all of our readers. We're working on several longer offerings at the moment, but none are quite ready. Hopefully this will delight as it tides you over!.
Part 1 Part 2
back to Part 1
His sleep was punctuated with nightmares of Eamon's keep frozen in ice and shadows. Even after he woke, his breath streamed pale in front of him. The low fire only did so much, and there wasn't enough firewood to build it higher. He pulled his cloak on over his clothes to keep what warmth he could near his body.
He had a single goal: to see his brother.
But for two days, he had little chance. The mabari who followed him, his shadows once more, were not the same one he'd left outside his bedroom. He could make out differences in them now, in the way their snouts tapered or the shape of their haunches, in the way their kaddis was applied - little differences, but he marked each one.
On the third day, it seemed the shifts had come back around and waiting for him outside of his door was the one who was not so imposing, much like its master had seemed in the little mudroom closet. He made his way towards Eamon's room and the hound followed without protest.
Teagan hovered until after he was certain Ser Cauthrien had left his brother. Like he had three days before, he tried the handle and found it locked. The mabari gave a low grunt, and he supposed it was like a warning. He shook his head at it.
"I need to see my brother," he whispered. "I doubt you understand that, but you saw her-"
He slid his knife from his belt and pointed it at the door. "Something's different- something's wrong. And I just want to see him for myself." He took a deep breath before turning towards the door. "Now..."
He crouched low, pushing his cloak over his shoulders to settle behind him, and looked at the lock as he slid his dagger into place.
On another day, with one of the other dogs, it might have lunged for him, or placed it great mouth around his arm again, or let out an alerting howl.
It did none of that, instead whining quietly and coming close enough to paw at his knee.
He let out a sigh. "I know. But look-" He bent a knee to the floor to steady himself as he reached hand out for the mabari's head. He scritched it gently behind the ear. "What would you do if it was her on the other side of this door? You'd go after her, try to get in. Right?"
Teagan dropped his hand and turned to focus on the lock again.
"That's what I'm doing. ... Now, go on."
It blinked wide, golden eyes at him and let out another whine.
Then it backed away, hesitated, took another step back, hesitated- turned, and exited the hallway.
He focused intently on the lock and tried not to miss the comforting warmth of the mabari next to him. It seemed to like him, that one, and though he knew he shouldn't, some part of him felt bad for shooing it away. What little comfort comes...
He held his breath as he squinted into the lock, pushing the dagger as delicately as he could into the opening and feeling for the catch where it would slide the lock away from the door. But it had been too long since he tried to wheedle a lock open, and his hands were too cold and he had to stop every few seconds to resit the dagger in its place.
There was no warning before it happened, the sudden slam of heat against his back as Ser Cauthrien drove him against the door, hand catching his wrist and twisting hard enough to make the dagger drop. His fingers curled after his dagger, far too late to catch it.
There was no warning, no shout or curse or bark of a dog, and at first she said nothing, body hard against him and breath hot on his ear.
And then she growled. "Bann Teagan."
He grunted at the pressure of her against him, her warmth wrapped around him. He blinked and drew in a shaky breath, more surprise than fear. When he could speak again, it was only to answer his name with hers, though his voice was lower, soft and breathy and expelled from his lips all at once.
"Ser Cauthrien."
She was silent.
Perhaps somebody else would have asked and what were you doing or did you think you could get away with it. She didn't. She stayed close to him, drawing him up to standing while keeping him to the wood of the door, and when she finally spoke, she murmured, her voice losing some of its edge,
"I can't allow this."
He closed his eyes against the heat of her. His breath quickened and his heart hammered in his chest. His legs threatened to give, and would have were it not for her hands on him, and the door beneath him to keep him standing. He tried to speak, to ask what she had done with Eamon, why he wasn't allowed close- but his throat was thick with fear and his tongue felt swollen and wrong in his mouth. So he said nothing, forcing his eyes open. He could barely see her but he tried to turn, to stare her down, as if to ask what she planned to do with him now that he'd been caught.
"The Regent would have me lock you in a dungeon for this," she continued, her nose nearly touching his. The breath that had been hot on his ear was just as hot ghosting over his lips and chin.
"For doubting him. And me."
Her hand on his wrist tightened a moment, but then relaxed, only pressing his hand to the wood. Her other hand held his elbow, and one of her legs slipped between his to better pin him.
He took in a breath, nearly a gasp at the closeness of her, but it was one of hers that he inhaled and it felt as though it might burn his throat and lungs as it slid through him.
"And you?" he asked, little more than a breath returned to her- an exchange of her warmth for the chill of his own.
She didn't respond, lips pursing and breathing growing shallower, quieter, as she thought. She did not accept the breath offered, not until she smirked faintly, then looked to the hall.
"I would not lock a man in his brother's dungeons," she said, drawing back and pulling him with her. "But I cannot allow this."
At the end of the hall stood the three mabari, the two who were not quite so friendly stealing forward as Ser Cauthrien dragged his wrists behind his back.
He stared at the mabari he'd shooed away and shook his head at it, even as his arms ached in the knight's grasp. He fought the urge to struggle against her, too aware of the other dogs' approach and how exposed his throat must be to them.
"You had to tell on me, didn't you?" he asked it quietly.
The dog didn't meet his eyes, and let out a low whine.
"They're well-trained, and loyal," Ser Cauthrien said as she began to push him down the hall. "If one is soft, it is still within the confines of its training."
There was an edge to her voice, nervous and a little angry, and for a moment her grip on him tightened. The hounds fell in at her heels, with the one Teagan knew best dropping behind with his tail lowered.
She led him to another of the great chambers. It wasn't Teagan's, but one that was once held for guests. She took one of her hands from him only long enough to take hold of a key - not the same key, but a key that had been tucked into her belt as if she hadn't expected to need it - and unlock the door. The dogs at her heels snapped and snarled at Teagan to keep him in check as she pushed him into the room.
And then she locked the door behind him.
Inside, the windows had been shut but not shuttered, and a fire burned high and merrily. It was warm in the room, warmer than the rest of the keep, and the bed was layered in clean and heavy bedding, furs and wools.
He stared at door, then was compelled to test it, even though he knew it would be locked. It was. He drew close to the fire then, grateful for it, at least, and it was the warmest he had been since he'd left his home in Rainesfere. He wondered if it was her room. He could think of no other reason for it to so richly and so warmly appointed when the rest of the house seemed desolate.
"Loyal, indeed," he muttered to himself a he drew his cloak around his shoulders, and dropped to his knees, hunched over in front of the fire.
___
It was several hours later when there was a scratching at the door and then the sound of a key turning in the lock.
He stirred, lifting his head towards the sound as he stretched his legs and shoulders. He had slept there in front of the fire, warm and comfortable even on the floor, and it had been the best sleep of his stay thus far. But he knew better than to say that to her, and had the decency to look uncomfortable and frightened as the door opened.
It was not so hard, after all, except for when he remembered her breath stealing into him.
The mabari that had turned him over to her preceded her into the room, padding over to the fire and settling down with a whuff. Teagan shook his head at the mabari, but reached out to scratch its head all the same, small betrayals forgiven in front of the fire.
Behind the dog was Ser Cauthrien, with a plate heaped with food and a goblet of wine balanced in her hands. She locked the door behind her and then went to the small table, setting it all down.
The food smelled better than he could remember of other dinners, and perhaps it too was changed because he was warm and better rested. He found himself watching her eagerly, his hand resting between the mabari's ears.
She didn't seem to notice his gaze until she turned to leave again. She stopped halfway to the door, and after a moment of looking back at him, she looked instead to the mabari - who had scooted closer to Teagan.
"Softie," she muttered.
He wanted to say that someone needs to be, but he didn't know why, and the words sat on his tongue. He shrugged at the mabari as if to say he appreciated it, even if she didn't.
Before she reached the door he looked back to the food and then to her again and just to be sure- because he wasn't sure if this pleasant room and the warm fire also warranted him a meal- but it seemed to-
"That's for me, then?" he asked.
"Yes." Her hand rested on the knob, and she had yet to reach for the key. "I'll be bringing you your meals, just as I do Eamon's. You should at least be comfortable here."
"Thank you," was off his tongue before he could stop it and he looked away from her quickly. It was a ridiculous notion, thanking her for locking him away, not only from his brother, but from the rest of the keep. And yet it was the best kept he'd been, and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep from saying that as well.
She thankfully didn't respond. Ser Cauthrien's hand brushed her hip, searching for the key - now hung on a cord like the other - by touch as she looked to the mabari again.
"Hafter," she said, the first time she had named one of the dogs in his presence.
Hafter didn't respond except to roll onto his side, offering Teagan his belly.
His hand reached out for the marbari's- Hafter's barrel chest, and patted him. Company, even a mabari- even her mabari- was welcome when it was so amiable. He shook his head. "Incorrigible."
"I've never seen him like this," Ser Cauthrien huffed, crossing her arms over his chest. "Hafter, are you going to come or not?"
Hafter did nothing except twitch a paw.
Teagan pulled his hand away from the mabari. He was still smiling at the creature, but his stomach rumbled at the smell of food and he feared her sharp words if Hafter continued to refuse on his behalf.
With a small shrug he let his cloak fall away from his shoulders and he stood, stretched briefly and then made his way toward the food she'd brought.
Hafter stayed curled up by the fire.
Ser Cauthrien finally sighed and reached for the key again. "Very well. I'll be back later, with your evening meal and to retrieve him," she said, and then there was the click of the lock, and she slipped out of the room. The latch caught behind her as it had before.
He didn't begrudge Hafter his coziness in front of the fire, having been there himself for most of the morning. But he settled down at the table, and started into his meal, closing his eyes and savoring the richness of each bite. He'd eaten well here, when he'd eaten with her, but each bite of this meal seemed sweeter or more savory, the wine more full-bodied than any of his other meals. And he stopped several times to slow his bites, to keep from devouring it all as quickly as he could.
When it was done, he pushed away the plate and finished the last sip of his wine. He stood and retrieved his cloak from the floor, but it was warm enough he didn't need it, and he folded it together and laid it on the edge of the bed.
Even with the sleep he'd had earlier in front of the fire, he found himself tired again soon enough, his belly full and body warm. It was almost too warm now by the fire, especially with Hafter so close. Teagan shed his doublet, laid it on top of his cloak and then settled himself onto the bed. His hands curled into the furs and before long, he was asleep again, full and warm with bright firelight across his back.
___
There was no knock at the door, nothing except the clicking of the key in the lock, and then the creak of hinges. The key in the lock again.
He stirred at the sounds, and after several long moments where he could make out nothing more, he turned over slowly, looking down the bed to find Ser Cauthrien watching him. He smiled at her lazily, still half-asleep, still warm, and his fingers carefully unfolded from the fur beneath him. He was at ease, and what was there to fear, here in this room?
This time, she brought a tray with two plates, two glasses, a bottle of wine, and she looked almost... uncertain. When he caught her gaze, she looked away. She crossed the room to the table, setting down the tray. Hafter, still by the fire, lifted his head and rose to his feet with a yawn. He padded over and she reached a hand down to scritch at his ears.
"Apologies for waking you," she said, though to which of them he wasn't sure. "Your dinner is- on the table." She looked to Teagan, then, and paused where she was.
He blinked a few times, looking between her and Hafter and the dinner she had brought - two of everything. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, less hazy but still languid, still at ease.
"Are you eating here, Ser Cauthrien?" he asked, reaching up to rub at his beard.
"... I'd considered it," she said, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. The kaddis lines shifted with the motion, drawing his attention.
He canted his head. "Had?"
Her gaze dropped from his face- and then she turned around, reaching for her plate. "I should go," she said, and she moved quickly- nervously. She was more a skittish hound than a stalking wolf.
Teagan pushed up to sit forward on the bed, hand falling from his jaw. "I meant to ask you before, is this- I mean, the way it's decorated and warm- is this your room? Where you've been staying?" It was too late to ask really; he'd already slept in front of the fireplace, had a meal at the table, slept in the bed. But curiosity had the better of him, and boldness, too. For the third time he could see the woman beneath the wolf, and he found himself curious as to what her outlines were, what her true form was.
She looked to the door, and took a step towards it, but Hafter whined and settled down on the ground between her and it. Ser Cauthrien was forced to stop her retreat. She looked back to him, awkward in her military undress with food in her hands.
"This was where I was staying, yes," she said, tone sharp as she nudged at Hafter with her toes. The mabari pointedly didn't move. She sighed, then turned back to the table and set the food down.
"It's yours now, though. Until the end of the month."
He raised a hand and rubbed at the side of his neck nervously, very aware of his shirt folded at the end of the bed. He couldn't very well apologize for occupying the room she'd claimed for herself, when she had put him in it, but he felt odd about it all the same. He put his hand down and started to push himself towards the edge of the bed.
"And that's your plan then? To keep me locked here until the end of the month?"
"Two more weeks is not so long," she said. "I can bring books... other things to fill the time." She turned around again, and stopped short, watching him with parted lips. Her gaze turned hungry, and she swallowed. "Just-" she said, and her voice was a little lower, "just say the word."
He stopped, just as his legs hung over the side of the bed, his hands curled over the edge. He looked up at her, wary of the way that she stared.
In other circumstances, two weeks didn't seem so long. In his other room or the rest of the house, cold and dark and quiet, it would've seemed an eternity. But here, in this warmth, with fire and food and company...
"That would be nice," he said, fighting the urge to squirm beneath her gaze. It made him feel hot all over, his breath quickened.
Ser Cauthrien nodded, looking not as his eyes but at his mouth. "Tomorrow morning, then."
And then she turned towards the bed. Her first step was slow. The second step was measured, but she didn't slink to the bed, didn't prowl. The third was faster. The fourth brought her close, and the fifth-
On the fifth, she kissed him, lips hungry and hands going to the mattress on either side of him. He tilted his head back with her kiss, trying to inhale around her, too surprised to properly take a breath. She followed him, one knee going between his legs as she bore him back onto the bed. What started fumbling and chasing, lips to lips, gained heat as she trailed her tongue along his lower lip, begging entrance.
He gave in easily, lips parting for her, one of his hands reaching out for her. When he had any moment to breathe, he wondered at her, at the hunger in her kisses. But his own felt much the same, rising out of wariness and warm, languid ease, and his hands were at her back, pulling her close.
She pinned him with her weight, one hand finding his bared waist, the other finding his wrist. She didn't seem able to shake the drive to take, and she pinned him there as she moved to straddle his hips.
One of his hands slid down her back, his grasp less urgent, less needy, trying to balance out her persistence. His fingers grabbed her waist, a thumb reaching at the edge of her pants. There was a clink of metal as he hooked his thumb on the leather cord that held the keys at her waist.
For a moment, it felt as though his whole body tensed, holding still enough to let the moment pass and realizing how close he could be to freedom.
The clinking didn't seem to get her attention, or at least didn't make her pause. Her grip on him went between too tight and almost nonexistent, her kisses shifting between desperate and deep, light and searching. Her hand on his waist trembled, and her eyes were tightly shut, as if she tried to forget who he was- who she was.
With another breath he was moving again, gentle responses to her searching ones. His concentration centered on those cords, the keys at her waist that would let him out of this room and into his brother's. His fingers found the loop, and even as he arched up to return a kiss, he was fumbling to free one of the keys.
She groaned against his lips, then rolled her hips against his. The motion stretched the cord tight, tugging on her belt.
She froze.
And then she pulled away hard, gasping for breath and grabbing for his hand even before she could see what he was doing. Her grip was crushing tight, and her face contorted into a snarl. He stilled again, letting the cord slide out from between his fingers. He watched her with wide eyes, holding his breath as he waited.
But she didn't strike him, didn't shout, didn't do anything but reach for her belt. She untied the cords- and threw them behind her, to where Hafter waited. The mabari barked, then picked up the keys in his mouth.
"You," she growled, looming over Teagan again, catching his wrists and pinning them to the mattress.
Even with the temptation of the keys removed, he found himself stretching up to kiss at her throat, his hips rocking against hers.
It earned him another growl, though this was different from the first, trailing off into what was almost a moan as she met his rhythm, as she dipped her head to try and catch his lips again. Her hands were still tight on his body, almost painfully so, but her thumbs pressed more lightly, stroking over his pulse.
He thought to turn his head as she sought his lips again, but he met her lips with his. His wrists tried to turn under the pressure of her hands, but only to reach out to her again, keys or not, around her waist. He studied her between kisses, bright in the firelight, cheeks flushed. She'd said this was her room-
His room now, she'd brought him here instead of locking him away in the dungeons or his first room. Those were dark and frozen; they made him feel lonely, isolated. And she was anything but frozen.
Her hands released his wrists again, instead rising to cup his jaw as she deepened the kiss, nipping at his lip and sliding her tongue against his. He slipped his arms around her again, reaching up to her shoulders and pulling her down to him. His chin lifted to her, moving with her fingers as he let out a soft moan. The sound seemed to bolster her, and as she plundered his mouth she somehow fit her hand between them, tugging harshly at the laces of his breeches. Her lips left his in another moment, trailing over his jaw and to his throat, where she bit.
His hips rolled to give her better access, moaning again and louder. There was pain there, but not so much that he didn't want more from her, or that he felt like pulling away. And she soon soothed it with her tongue, suckling there and then nipping - more lightly, this time - further down as she finally loosed the knots and tugged his clothing down.
Teagan pushed his heels against the side of the bed, sliding under her and letting his pants fall to the ground. He pulled her up with him, a hand moving to her waist reaching again for the edge of her jacket and only briefly did he mourn the loss of the keys at her belt.
She pulled back after another nip, fingers tugging at the toggles of her jacket and then casting it aside. She didn't hesitate to pull her tunic over her head, or tear at the laces of her leggings. Her face was flushed and her lips parted, and her eyes never left his.
With the space between them, it was easier to remember who she was, to see hints of the knight he'd dined with that first night in the keep. She was different now- brighter, warmer, kaddis smeared across her face. He sat up and reached out for her, pushing at her clothes, removing more of the knight in favor of the woman beneath.
And she was a woman, beyond her flashing teeth and cruel smile, beyond her prowling of the halls, her snapping and snarling. She didn't catch his wrists and push him away, instead leaning in to his touch when his fingers brushed her skin instead of her clothing. She struggled to shuck her boots and slide from her leggings, but she managed it, descending on him again with only her smalls and breast band covering her skin - pale skin, surprisingly delicate skin except for the callouses on her fingers, rough as they dragged down his ribs. She abused his lips with tongue and teeth, pressing her body along his as if she sought- something.
His hands found her hips, grabbing at her again, smooth skin under his fingertips.
Her mouth left his for just a moment and she whispered, "What warm hands you have." Her lips curved into a wild grin, and her hand slid between them, curling around his length.
There had been a response, ready on his tongue until her hand wrapped around him. The words faded, replaced by a breath that had him tilting his head back into the furs beneath them. She chased him down, nipping at his pulse as she worked him in short, fast jerks, her own breath stuttering along his skin.
It wasn't enough. He arched up to meet her kisses, rocked his hips trying to keep up with the motions of her hands. He wrapped both of his arms around her, tightly, and tried to pull her to the side, to roll her over onto the bed. She yielded, hooking her legs around his. He pushed her to the mattress, a grin on his lips at the small power he had- if it was his one remaining freedom, he would take it.
Her own eyes were bright, hands searching as she released him, sliding over his chest and up into his hair to drag him down for another kiss. She groaned approval, pressing her hips up against him and pulling him down against her with a shift of her legs.
He moved a hand from around her to guide himself to her entrance, pushing her smalls out of the way and using the rocking of her hips to find the right moment and thrust inside. She cried out, head falling back and back arching. Her legs tightened around him and she took him deeper, her nails biting into his scalp. He leaned down, a hand against her jaw, brushing around her ear, and he kissed her cheek, kaddis beneath his lips. It wasn't gentle, but nearly desperate, heat and hunger building in his chest.
Her heel dug into his calf as she forced a rhythm for them, pulling her head back just far enough that she could catch his lips, smeared with her paint. She groaned something against his mouth, something that may have been yes or more or any of a thousand other small words, all translating to need.
Teagan worked with the rhythm she created, leaning down on her with rough kisses against her neck and cheeks as if he could steal her warmth through his lips, or sate his need- or hers, with each breath. He wrapped his hands under her shoulders holding her close against him as he rocked his hips with hers.
There was a noise between breaths that was not him, and as he opened his eyes and searched her face, he knew it was not her. He hesitated, faltered between motions and waited.
It sounded again- a knock at the door.
The servants had not bothered him before, not even in his own room, and his eyes went wide, looking at Ser Cauthrien below him. Fear spiked through him. She had locked the door, he had seen her do it.
If there was someone there-
He feared the worst, that something had happened with Eamon, or that the Regent had come to check on his knight's progress or had merely sent more soldiers to lend her aid.
"Ignore it," she growled, jerking her hips and clenching tight around him. She tried to force him over, hands shoving his shoulders and lips on his throat, drawing another helpless moan from him. "I'll take care of it," she growled, then bit. "I'll take- I-"
There was another knock, this one louder and more insistent. A voice followed, female and unfamiliar. "Bann Teagan?"
Another moment of clarity took him, fear giving way to the realization that there was a chance for freedom on the other side of that door. He grabbed Ser Cauthrien's wrists and held them to the bed as he pulled away. But there was a longing there, a warmth- a comfort that made it difficult. A need in them both that kept his lips on her skin, his hips moving with hers even as he rose, pushing space between their chests.
He took a shuddering breath, and the knocking turned to a pounding fist against the door. He closed his eyes for a steeling breath and pushed away from her, sliding his feet down, tiptoes against the cold stone.
The change in angle made his hold weak, though, and she was powerful, hissing through her teeth and trying to hook her legs around him, drag him back. When she couldn't find purchase, she jerked against his hold, kicking out. "I said ignore it- I said- Teagan-" Her eyes were wild and she broke free of him-
Only to be pinned back as Hafter leaped onto the mattress, covering her body with his. He growled, snout inches from her face, and she stilled, lips parted and brow creased in confusion - and hurt.
He stared at the mabari for a brief moment, then at Ser Cauthrien, before the voice on the other side of the door called for him again. He could hear something, someone, moving in the hallway. Her tunic was on the bed near Hafter's back paws and Teagan grabbed it, then wrapped a sleeve around one of Ser Cauthrien's wrists. She didn't resist except to curl her fingers, looking from Hafter to him, and then away at the far wall. He spared a look at the door as he reached for her other arm.
He called out, "I'm here."
Once he finished wrapping her other wrist, and knotting the sleeves together, he looked at her with something that felt a lot like regret. He almost didn't want to move away, but the person at the door was insistent and there was a glint of metal at the end of the bed-
And had it just been the two of them, if it had been different, he wouldn't have stepped away to retrieve the keys from the floor, fumbling with the cord.
"Teagan," Ser Cauthrien said, leaning up as best she could to look beyond Hafter to him. Her voice was hoarse from her sighs, soft, cracking along the edges. "I-" They failed her, and she growled, but it was from frustration and not anger, not triumph. She let her head fall back, staring at the ceiling.
He looked back at the bed with a small shake of his head. He toed at the ground, finding the edge of his pants and bent down to pull them on, waiting- or giving her time to find whatever it was she meant to say.
There was a shift, a creaking of the bed, as hound and human moved just a little. Hafter no longer snarled or threatened, instead laying his head down on her chest. Ser Cauthrien exhaled shakily, then said, barely loud enough to hear, "I'm sorry."
There were things he wanted to say, things he wanted to ask her about- everything. There was little time for that now, for anything else other than the keys he gripped tightly in his hand. He took a breath to say at least that he understood, or thought he did.
"Cauthrien," he said and there was a small nod of his head to go with it. He was at the door before he knew it, key against lock and his chance to say more was gone as the door shook under his hand.
"I'm here," he said again as he opened the door to meet his rescue.
The woman on the other side was Cauthrien in every opposite. Where Cauthrien was pale, she was tanned and dark; where Cauthrien's hair was pulled back tight, her hair was wild and free. Lines traced her face, but they were not paint. They marked the very surface of her skin. And where Cauthrien was tall and broad, she was small and slight, with not fire in her eyes but the heart of the earth.
She looked him over, in all his undress, and glanced to the woman and beast behind him.
"I have come," she said at last, voice accented from the forest, and he could see then the pointed tips of her ears peeking from her curls, "to request the aid of Arl Eamon against the Regent. But I arrived to find that wolves prowled these halls, and that he and you have been... consumed." She crossed her arms over her chest. "The servants led me here, and said the largest wolf of them all was within, with you."
He followed the woman's gaze to the bed. "She," he said as he turned back into the room, letting the door fall open still farther, "is no wolf. But I am grateful for your arrival all the same."
"Is she not?" the woman asked with a faint huff of laughter. "Well. Your brother's door is locked to me. Does she at least have the key?"
"I have only just claimed it." He held out his palm, both keys under his curled fingers. "As well as the one for this room."
It felt strange to offer them up so quickly after taking them for himself, but he let them drop to either side of his hand, turning it to keep just the cord between his fingers. He barely felt it when she plucked it away from him, and he sighed heavily with another look at Cauthrien.
"Let me go with you," he said. "I have asked after my brother for two weeks."
Teagan took a few steps back towards the bed, and bent to collect the rest of his clothes.
"Leave her," the woman said. "We lock her in; we will return to her later to deal with her. But a wolf, however docile, should not be allowed to prowl after us."
Cauthrien frowned, but did not protest, did not even work against the knots binding her wrists. She looked at Teagan instead. And she said, quietly, "Lock me in, or I will have to follow you."
He slipped his shirt on and then nodded, avoiding Cauthrien's gaze as he walked back towards the door. He pulled his cloak in a bundle, holding it close to his chest as he stepped out into the hall, passed the elven woman.
"It's the smaller key for this room," he said, his voice quiet and small in the cold hallway.
She didn't look at him with any sort of approval, or really anything at all, but she did lock the door and turn from him, beckoning him to follow.
He did follow, slowly, working to close the toggles on his doublet with shaking fingers while he stared at the strange woman in front of him. His interactions with elves were mostly limited to the servants and to meet this one was a strange experience. She seemed confident, almost commanding, and he wondered what it was, exactly, that had brought her to Eamon's house.
"Has someone sent you here, to find my brother?"
"I sent myself," she said as she led the way, without erring, towards Eamon's room. She must have walked those halls before, if only before she came to his door. But if that were the case, how had Cauthrien not heard tell of her approach?
"Your human Regent destroys the world," she added, fitting the key into the lock of Eamon's door. "And if you will not move to fight him, I will move you instead. I found the old treaties of this place, lost where nobody else had looked."
"They say my brother is sick," Teagan said. "Ser Cauthrien has had him locked away for the last two weeks. The Regent sent her, though I can only guess to his purpose." He waited for her to open the door, stepping in just behind her. She had only taken a few steps when Eamon's voice - thin, weak, but his - sounded from the bed.
"Ser Cauthrien?"
Teagan stepped around the woman and went to his brother. He crouched down at the side of the bed. "Eamon, Eamon? It's Teagan." He reached for his brother's hand, finding it in the pile of thick blankets.
Eamon was propped up, just a little, and though he was thin and pale, he managed a smile for his brother. "I didn't think I'd see you again," he said, with a glance to the elf who came to stand close by. "Is she gone, then? Has the Regent been stopped?"
Teagan looked up at the elf. "I don't know of the Regent, but the woman, Ser Cauthrien- she is locked in her room." He sighed heavily at the memory of her. When he at last returned his gaze to his brother, he added, "I've been here two weeks. Did she tell you?"
"She did. She told me when you arrived and when you asked after me, when I was awake enough to hear it." He struggled to sit up still more. "She said little beside that, except to get me to eat."
It wasn't much, but Teagan was glad to know that Eamon had at least known about his arrival. That he'd come to see after him, even if the way had been blocked by Ser Cauthrien. It was a small kindness that she'd given his brother.
At the foot of the bed, the elf snorted. "To eat? She was here to have you killed, no doubt."
"And who is she?" Eamon asked, looking between the two.
"I need your help. Your knights, to help me slay the Regent," the woman said, stepping closer. "And I need you well, to carry your banner."
"I have few knights left to me," Eamon said, shaking his head. "They left, when my son was revealed to be a witch. They left when the Regent darkened the skies. They've been gone for... months, at least."
"Then you will call them home, and I will drag them if need be."
"And who do you fight for?" Teagan asked, letting go of Eamon's hand so he could stand and meet the woman's gaze.
"For all of you, because you will not fight for yourselves." She shook her head, then tossed the keys to him. "Leave me with your brother, Bann Teagan."
He caught the keys, but opened his mouth to protest. He'd gone long enough without access to his brother and didn't care to leave again so soon. But the keys were in his hands, and this elf, whoever she was, wanted to fight for the people. For the moment, that would be good enough- and after, he would have plenty of time to see to Eamon's recovery.
And there were other matters: a woman just down the hall, and one of the keys would let him in.
"What of Ser Cauthrien?" he asked, slow and cautious.
"She's the Regent's dog. Kill her," the elf said with a wave of her hand, but Eamon shook his head.
"Not so quickly," he said, and looked to Teagan. "What do you think, brother? She seemed to be... bending, these last few days. What have you seen?" For the first time, he seemed to notice the kaddis paint streaked over Teagan's face in places, frowning. "I feel you've seen... quite a bit."
Teagan lifted his empty hand to his face, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Of course, his brother, even sick in bed, would see. He nodded.
"She has changed- she... I think she is less a threat now. Perhaps imprisonment would be sufficient punishment?"
The elf snorted, but Eamon nodded. "Fair enough." He took a deep, if rattling, breath and nodded. "Take care of that, brother, while I speak with our guest?"
With a nod, Teagan folded the keys into his hand and left the room.
His feet took him back down the hall he had just come, to the door that the elf had left locked, where Cauthrien waited on the other side. He still felt as though his skin tingled where she'd touched him, and with the elf and his brother safe behind him, soft waves of heat met him even in the chill hall.
Though he didn't need to, he called to her. "Ser Cauthrien?" His fingers maneuvered the smaller key into the lock but didn't move further. "Cauthrien?"
There wasn't a response at first, and then, "Teagan?" A familiar bark followed. He spared only half a thought to the other hounds, missing, and to the elf's words - prowled, as if they did no more.
He hesitated another moment, the key in the lock just waiting for him to turn it. Then he leaned into the door and with just a quick glance down the hall to make sure it was still empty, he turned the key and opened the door.
She wasn't on the bed. She had slipped her wrists free of his hasty bonds, and was sitting instead by the fire. She hadn't dressed and didn't make a move to leave when he slipped inside. Instead, she just rubbed behind Hafter's ears, and Hafter yawned and settled his head on her knee.
But Cauthrien did look to him. "Is everything well, then? Have you come to kill me?"
"My brother is awake," he murmured as if that was answer enough that things were well. Maybe they weren't, but it was a beginning of something and it relaxed the knot of worry that had built in his chest over the past months.
"And no." He shook his head, closing the door and then leaning back against it. "You are to be imprisoned."
"I understand. And I submit to it - it's not so bad." He thought he saw the barest hint of a smile before she looked back to the fire, the muscles around her mouth tightening. "... I'm glad. That she arrived. That it's over."
"Are you?" He watched her, more undone and undressed than he had ever seen her. Maybe she spoke the truth. But-
"Why?"
She shrugged, a rolling of muscles along her back and shoulders. "The Regent sent me to make sure your brother died. That was my order. We thought he was dying already... I thought he was. But if he didn't die, I was supposed to poison him at the end of the month, to finish the job." She shook her head, gaze dropping to Hafter. "He started to rally about a week ago. When it was just watching his death - I did not doubt."
"But when he showed improvement?"
Teagan pushed away from the door. She wasn't moving away from the fire, and where before he might have feared she would make a move for the door, to escape, it seemed less likely now. Not as she looked now, resigned and almost relaxed.
He rested at the corner of the bed, not so far from where she sat, and he watched her in the shadows of the fire. She was not so threatening from there, and he could see the curves and sloping lines along with all the hard edges. With Eamon safe, he felt no fear, and he leaned forward, hands clasped before him.
"You doubted then?" he continued, voice softer. "He said that you informed him I had arrived."
"I told him you arrived the day you did. He didn't hear me that day- but I told him the next. And the next." Cauthrien glanced back to him. "But yes. When he rallied, I began to doubt. I didn't want to complete my task, even if I trusted the Regent. If I trust him. You saw me in that room downstairs. I haven't slept in here for the better part of a week."
For the second time that day, Teagan felt as though he should be apologizing to her. There was nothing to be done for it now, though. The worst was over. Eamon was safe, and they were both free. He didn't doubt that under proper attention, his brother would be on the mend soon enough.
Teagan took in a deep breath, biting the words down before he said them. He could wish things had been different, but he couldn't apologize.
"You can sleep in here tonight," he said with a faint smile. He could offer her that at least.
"Thank you." With another stroke of Hafter's head, she rose up to her feet. She moved slowly, keeping her hands in his line of sight as she turned to him- to the bed. She came only close enough to retrieve her discarded clothing. "... And- I am sorry. For earlier."
For her lips on his, her body around him. Her meaning was clear in how she held herself, how she couldn't quite look at him, how her hand closest to him hesitated, as if to reach out.
"Don't be." For anything else, he thought. But not that.
She paused, tunic held over her chest but her legs still bare. "Don't be?"
He shifted on the bed so he could face her better and gave her a soft smile. "No. I only left- I only stopped- I needed to see after my brother, and that was my chance. But-" he reached a hand out and laid it on her arm. "I wouldn't have left otherwise."
And I came back.
She stared at him, lips parted. "Oh," she said. And then came the almost predictable clicking of Hafter's claws on the floor as he nudged the back of her legs. Cauthrien looked down, frowning. "You need to stop interfering. I know my own mind, thank you."
Hafter only wagged his stump of a tail.
Teagan chuckled and where his hand rested on her arm, his fingers slid around to give the slightest of tugs. He leaned forward.
"Is that so?"
"... Would you truly have a wolf in your bed?" she asked, and she was so much in that moment the woman beneath the armor, her kaddis smeared to the point where the patterns only existed by her hairline, by the crease of her nose. "Because I would bed down there, with you, if you'd let me."
Teagan stood and made up the small distance between them in only a step. His free hand moved to brush a thumb over the last remnants of kaddis. His fingers curled into her hair and he shook his head before leaning in to kiss her, a soft, shared breath.
"Where you see a wolf," he whispered, "I see a woman."
THE END