Two things:

- If this seems familiar: I originally posted it the first chapter as part of the 30 days AU challenge / Allegiance Swap.

- This is an AU where my Megan Cousland is on Loghain's side, and she's evil. She does nasty things. So if you can't stand the thought of poor Alistair being hurt, please don't read.

Rendon Howe walked into the Great Hall at Highever with a big smile on his gaunt face, extending his arms in a fatherly gesture. Megan beamed back at her father-in-law, going up on tip toes to kiss his cheek. "Dearest Papa! How kind of you to stop by."

"Megan. You look lovely as ever. But, tell me, has Maric's bastard been taken care of?" His hand brushed against her breast as if by accident, but she wasn't fooled. Arl Rendon always managed to cop a feel when she got close to him.

Megan hid her revulsion at his touch with the ease of long practice. "Of course, Papa. He's awaiting his execution down in the dungeon. I don't think anyone will miss him but, just in case, I had a few of my men spread the tale that he's left for the Free Marches to make his fortune there."

"Well done," the arl chuckled. "I really don't know what I'd do without you, my little spitfire."

Megan favoured him with her most dazzling smile. You'd be busy digging your own grave, you senile idiot. Really, without her help he'd never have managed to take control of Highever. Knowing him, he'd probably have attacked with an army, when there were so many… subtler ways of achieving what they wanted.

It had been so easy. Her parents had been overjoyed when Nathaniel had asked for her hand in marriage. She'd pretended to be bashful, overwhelmed by his attention. Megan's lips turned up in a contemptuous smirk at the memory. They'd been so utterly clueless. Not even in their wildest dreams would they have imagined that their sweet little daughter had been messing around with Nathaniel for months.

"Father. I didn't expect to see you here tonight." And here he was, her husband, embracing the old arl with such fervour that Megan flinched internally. She'd have to talk to Nathaniel later tonight, tell him to tone it down a little. Even Rendon wasn't that gullible. Or, maybe he was.

He slapped his eldest son heartily on the shoulder. "Nathaniel. You're looking well. But, when will you give me my first grandson, boy? It's about time."

Not if I have a say in it. Megan had no interest in becoming a mother any time soon. Right now, she wanted to enjoy the attentions of all the men at court, all the pleasantries due to a woman of her beauty and status. Any day now, Loghain would confirm her as Teyrna. She'd already begun to seed the rumour that Oriana's ship had sunk and, with a little luck, they'd have confirmation soon. And then no one would stand in her way. Not a single soul had even suspected foul play…

After her wedding, she had taken off on a long honeymoon with her new husband to make sure she was well removed from suspicion. No need to get her own hands dirty when she could trust Carver to administer the poison to their drinks. When she'd been called home, she'd played the part of the grief-stricken, orphaned young lady to perfection. To lose both parents in one fell swoop, due to some mysterious illness – it had been a tragedy to touch the most hardened heart.

And then, cruel fate had struck again only two months later, with the unexpected death of her elder brother Fergus who had been away on a charge against the rebellious Chasind barbarians. Such a dangerous mission, really. His young widow had been inconsolable and had left for her native Antiva as soon as she could, taking her son with her for an extended visit with his grandparents.

In the heir's absence, Megan had been the only member of her family remaining at Highever. Carver had been rewarded with a promotion to Guard Captain as soon as she had taken the reins. And hadn't he proven even more useful ever since?

She returned her attention to the present. Nathaniel had offered his father a goblet of strong red wine and was ushering him toward the large armchair near the fire, no doubt hoping the old man would soon doze off in the cosy warmth. But no, he looked pretty perky tonight. Megan cursed under her breath. Ah, well. Maybe she could wheedle a little extra allowance out of him. A few adoring glances and a little flattery usually did the trick.

"You know, Papa, Habren Bryland has been such a pain lately, claiming that her father is the only one in Ferelden who can afford proper Orlesian silk." Gracefully, she sank to her knees next to him, placing her hand on his velvet-clad thigh. "Of course, I set her right immediately. It's well-known that the Brylands can't hold a candle to the Howes."

"True, true," he chuckled, his gaze diving into her generous cleavage. "And you shall have the finest dress in the capital, my pet, made from silk brocade, no less. I'll have my tailor come over tomorrow, don't you worry."

Megan fluttered her eyelids at him. "Oh, really, you don't have to-"

"Lady Howe?" Carver's voice was a welcome relief. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Captain Hawke." She got to her feet, pursing her lips in disapproval. "Can't this wait till morning?"

"I'm afraid not, my lady." Carver's expression was the perfect blend of servility and competence. "It's about the prisoner."

"Oh, all right. Excuse me, please, Papa." She smiled apologetically at the arl and followed Carver out through the door and into Nathaniel's study.

As soon as the door fell shut, his arms were around her, pinning her to the wall, his breath hot on her neck. "Megan. Andraste's tits, how do you stand the old creep?"

"By thinking of more agreeable pursuits?" She moaned when he bit down hard on her naked shoulder. "Careful! You can't leave a mark where he'll see it."

"I'm sorry." Carver didn't sound particularly repentant.

"So, is there really something you wanted to discuss about Alistair or was that just an excuse to get me to join you here?" Megan let her hand wander down to his waist, toying with the fastenings of his armour.

"The bastard is fine." Carver shrugged. "Put up quite a fight, though. You should have warned me that he'd had Templar training."

"I didn't think that would be a problem for you," she purred, working the leather straps loose. "But I figure you deserve a reward for your bravery."

The chainmail coat came off and she quickly dealt with his leather pants, sliding her hand inside the garment to find him hard and ready. He groaned at her touch and she quickly manoeuvred him around so his back was to the wall, then got down on her knees.

"Megan." He dragged off his gauntlets, burying his fingers in her hair as she freed his cock from its confinement and took him between her lips. "Maker!"

He would mess up her carefully braided bun but, right now, Megan didn't care. She loved everything about this: the taste and weight of him on her tongue; the way his thighs trembled under her touch and his eyes rolled back as she began to suck; the incoherent curses tumbling from his lips. When she took him in deep, his grip became almost painful, but all she felt was jubilant triumph at having him so completely at her mercy. Such a big, strong warrior, and he was putty in her hands. Just like her own husband. Men were so easy to manipulate.

One day, she would make Nathaniel watch as she let Carver take her. Closing her eyes, she pictured his face, torn between jealousy and arousal, and it was enough to make her almost faint with pleasure. Right now, though… She redoubled her efforts and was rewarded with a final groan from Carver, a shudder racking his powerful body as he came hard, spilling in her mouth, his hand tight on the back of her head.

Megan left him in the study after a perfunctory kiss and quickly snuck off to her own room to fix her hair. She was almost finished, carefully tucking in the last pin, when Iona, her lady-in-waiting, knocked discreetly on the door.

"What is it?" Megan inspected her shoulder with a critical frown. There was a faint bite mark. Quickly she reached for her powder jar.

"It's the Antivan, my lady." Iona glanced at her in the mirror as she took the powder puff from her hands and began to cover up the bruise. "What shall I tell him?"

"Tell him to wait in the blue room. I'll be with him shortly." Megan rose to go, straightening her skirt, not bothering to hide her pleased anticipation at the thought of meeting with the assassin. Bye bye, dearest Papa.

Huggles and thanks to my awesome beta suilven.