Fic: Teagan's Chance
If you haven't played Dragon Age, here's some background...
Bann Teagan is a nobleman and a bachelor in his forties. The Grey Warden, aka the Hero of Fereldan, is a young woman in her early twenties or so. She has just saved the world from a Blight, which is a massive invasion of monsters called darkspawn.
Her friend, Alistair, is the bastard son of the old king, who died years ago. His half-brother Cailan, who inherited the throne, is also dead. Alistair has married Cailan's widow, Anora, and become King.
Alistair was raised by Teagan's brother, Eamon.
(In other stories I've written, Alistair and the Warden had a romantic relationship. In this one, their relationship is platonic.)
Title: Teagan’s Chance
Author: SignCherie
Rating: E
Pairing: fem!Warden/Teagan
Summary: The Blight has been defeated, and the Warden is single...
Disclaimer: Bioware owns all
The Hero of Ferelden was the most beautiful creature at the coronation ball, and Teagan was certain he was not the only man to think so.
Anora made a good show, of course, and while Teagan didn’t know much about female fashion, he was sure Anora’s gown was the height of style. She was a pretty girl, and no doubt many men were eyeing their new king with jealousy as he danced with his bride.
But Teagan couldn’t take his eyes off the Grey Warden.
He watched her from across the ballroom, as she sipped champagne and chatted animatedly with the blond Antivan elf she travelled with. She’d traded her armor for a gown of golden silk, which clung to her body and showed off her curves. Her hair was elegantly styled, soft and gleaming in the candlelight, and her eyes sparkled. But Teagan thought it was her happiness that was most striking, and brought that rosy glow to her cheeks.
He hadn’t known that someone who could fight so hard could look so soft.
“Champagne, ser?”
Teagan started at the voice. An elf was standing before him with a tray of champagne flutes.
“Yes...yes,” said Teagan distractedly, taking one absently and turning his gaze back to the lovely Warden.
She was laughing now, her head thrown back, and the Antivan elf was grinning mischievously at her. Teagan felt a surge of jealousy, and he wondered if she and the elf had some sort of relationship. Not for the first time, he berated himself for not making his intentions clearer from the start.
It had been so surreal. The undead horrors emerging from Castle Redcliffe, the slaughter of the villagers, night after night...and in the darkest hour of his life, she had walked in out of nowhere, like some kind of heroic angel, and offered her help with a smile and a carefree shrug. He’d been certain their situation was hopeless, but somehow she’d done the impossible and led that ragtag militia to victory, saving all their lives. When he’d seen her afterwards, with the sweat of battle on her brow, and a grin of victory on her lips, he’s been certain that she must be his own personal savior.
It was an idea that was hard to shake, as she’d continued to help him again and again, saving not only himself, but both Connor and Isolde as well, from the clutches of the demon that enslaved them, and then embarking on a mad, impossible quest to save Eamon. And succeeding, no less. Again and again, he’d looked at her in amazement, and thought, I can’t let this woman get away.
And yet, it always seemed so inappropriate, to make romantic overtures while everything was falling apart around them. He kept telling himself, when this is over, when this is over...
But the longer he waited, the more untouchable she seemed. She was not, after all, his personal savior--she was so much more. The Hero of Fereldan. Even that title was too limiting, in Teagan’s eyes. In ending the Blight, she had saved all of Thedas.
She was so out of his league.
Across the hall, the Warden excused herself from the Antivan elf’s company and hurried across the dance floor. A song had just ended, and Alistair and Anora were just returning to their seats. The Warden caught Alistair by the arm and said something Teagan couldn’t hear. Alistair smiled in response and let her lead him back out to the dance floor. A slight tightening of Anora’s mouth was the only sign that she might not approve of this new development.
Teagan felt another twinge of jealousy.
“The lad’s doing quite well, isn’t he?”
Teagan turned to see his brother Eamon taking a seat next to him. Quickly, he reordered his thoughts.
“He is. He’ll be a fine king, brother.”
“I had expected he would need some time to adjust to his position. But he seems quite at ease.”
Teagan looked back to where Alistair was dancing with the Warden. He appeared to be making some kind of wisecrack, and she was trying to cover up her laughter. “With her, at least,” Teagan observed.
Eamon followed his gaze to see whom Teagan was referring to. “Ah, the Hero of Fereldan.” Eamon smiled. “Have you congratulated her yet?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity. She’s quite popular.”
“Well, she would be, wouldn’t she? Alistair’s very lucky to have such a friend.”
“Indeed.” Teagan hesitated. “Are they...just friends, then? Sometimes it seems they might be...more.”
“I had wondered that, myself, at first. But I had the opportunity to speak of it to our Warden, once. She looked a bit sad, and told me she couldn’t think of beginning any romantic entanglements--of any sort--until the threat of the Blight was resolved.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m certain she’ll have her pick of the gentlemen now, won’t she?”
She certainly would. Teagan had seen quite a few young men approach her already, but the Hero of Fereldan had smiled and politely brushed off every one so far. She seemed to be telling Alistair some story, now, quite animatedly. Alistair was listening with amusement.
A moment went by.
“I haven’t done right by him, have I?” Eamon asked softly. “Maric would be so disappointed.”
Teagan looked at his brother in surprise. He had hardly expected him to express this sentiment now.
Eamon already knew how Teagan felt. The biggest fight they’d ever had was over Isolde’s treatment of Alistair. Eamon had married his wife, Isolde, for love, and that was all well and good, but Isolde had not liked that Eamon had a rambunctious young ward. Eamon had allowed Isolde to ostracize young Alistair, forcing him to sleep in the stables and eventually even sending him off to the Chantry at the tender age of ten. Teagan, who had himself been a rambunctious young boy once, had exploded when he heard, and he and Eamon had had the biggest shouting match of their lives. They had never told anyone about it, not even Isolde or Alistair, and had never spoken of it again.
Which was why Teagan was shocked to hear Eamon bring it up now.
No, Eamon had not done right by Alistair, but the past was the past, and could not be changed. “Do right by him now,” Teagan said simply.
Eamon looked at Teagan, and understanding flashed in his eyes. “Yes. Yes. I shall do my best.”
The dance was ending. All around, couples were bowing and curtseying politely. The Warden threw her arms around Alistair in a bear hug, and Alistair closed his eyes.
There may be nothing between the two on the Warden’s end, but Teagan was not so sure about Alistair.
“If you’ll excuse me, Teagan,” said Eamon, “there’s no time to start like the present.”
Eamon met Alistair as he was leaving the dance floor. They exchanged a few words, and Alistair nodded to the Warden before walking off with Eamon.
Maker’s blood, this was pathetic. Teagan had been watching her from across the room for far too long. Right, he was just going to get up and go over there.
Then the Warden’s searching eyes met his, and his nerve faltered.
Her face, however, lit up in delight, and she began making her way across the room towards Teagan.
Why his palms began to sweat, he didn’t know. Teagan did not get nervous around women. He was charming. He was well-mannered. He was courteous. And his palms didn’t sweat.
It was just this woman...
“Bann Teagan!” the Warden exclaimed as she got close. “I feared I would go the whole night without seeing you.”
To Teagan’s surprise, she threw her arms around him.
Hesitantly, Teagan rested his hands on the small of her back. Maker, she smelled good--like lilacs. Yes, that was the scent. Again, he was struck by just how soft she was.
She pulled back, and Teagan smiled at her in what he hoped was a polite manner. “My lady, you look stunning this evening.” The understatement of the century.
The Warden laughed. “It’s nice of you to say so. I feel perfectly ridiculous in this getup. It feels so light.” She shrugged. “I’ve been wearing armor for too long, I suppose.”
“I understand how you feel. It will be a nice change, for all of us, to be able to relax. I must say, you look sensational out of your armor.” Too late, he realized the double entendre of his words. “That is, I mean...”
The Warden just laughed. “You’re such a charmer. I don’t know how the ladies resist you. You must have women falling all over you.”
Was that how she saw him? As a smooth-talking ladies man? “Not as many as all that.”
The Warden cocked her head in disbelief.
“But you, my lady,” Teagan said, attempting to change the subject. “I daresay you’ve made quite a splash with the gentlemen tonight. Every time I looked for you, you seemed to have a new admirer.” Bastards, all of them, thought Teagan darkly.
The Warden looked surprised. “You were looking for me?”
“Well.” Teagan was thankful he didn’t flush easily, or he certainly would be flushing now. “To congratulate you, of course. The Hero of Fereldan. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer my congratulations?”
She made a face. “Well, I wish you would have interrupted. I’m sure they were just interested in me for the novelty of it. A chance to brag to their friends that they made time with the Hero of Fereldan.”
Teagan looked at her, the way the candlelight in the ballroom played upon her smooth skin, the way her gown flirted with the curves of her body, the way her lips parted in the smallest smile. “I’m patently certain that’s not the case,” he said softly.
Their eyes met, and something passed between them.
Teagan’s mouth went dry. He cleared his throat. “My lady. The entire kingdom owes you its gratitude. Were it not for you--I can’t even imagine what horror would have befallen us. You are our savior.”
“Please don’t.” She took his hand, and Teagan felt something electric pass through him at her touch. “We fought darkspawn together, Teagan. We are comrades in arms. There is no need for this.”
“Nonetheless.” Teagan clasped her hand in both his own and went on. “I owe you more than most. What you’ve done for me...for my family...”
She was shaking her head, but Teagan continued. “I owe you an enormous debt. I doubt very much that I can ever repay you, but...if there’s anything you ever want, or need...” He paused. “My lady, you have only to ask.”
She looked away, but left her hand in his. For a moment, they stood that way, his hands encircling hers, not speaking. Teagan’s pulse sped up.
Say something, he thought.
Then the beautiful, fiercesome Grey Warden looked back, decision in her eyes.
“Do you mean that?”
His heart pounded.
“Of course. Anything at all, my lady.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I’m worn out from all these politics. If I have to face one more well-meaning noble congratulating me on my victory or asking me absurd questions, I’ll go mad.”
She wanted to leave with him? His voice, when he spoke, was huskier than he meant it to be. “Where shall we go, my lady?”
She grinned impishly. “Don’t think me terribly inappropriate, but would you meet me in the kitchens?”
“In...the kitchens?”
“In about a half hour. I’ve got a taste for something sweet. But first, I need to get out of this gown.”
And that mental image did nothing for his self-control.