Sylvie stood behind the desk in her office, trying not to tug at the high collar of her gown. The ceremony of fealty had gone off rather well, she supposed, if you didn't count the drunken, Orlesian-hating lout, and the death threats. The lout was nothing – Varel was entirely correct that he was only emboldened by wine to voice what many dared not (although they probably would have been comforted to know that their Hero of River Dane did dare, daily). The conspiracy against her was a little more concerning, but having weathered the Imperial Court, she rather thought she could probably handle some disgruntled backwater banns.
Loghain entered her office – locking the door behind him and sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine – and stood before her desk, frowning. "Well, what happened?"
"They all pledged their oaths," she replied, but before she could elaborate, he growled.
"To an Orlesian. Worthless cowards."
"To the Grey Wardens," Sylvie corrected, annoyed. "Loghain, I am your commanding officer. Are you really saying that you'd hoped the people of Amaranthine would have refused to honor me? What do you think would have happened then?"
Loghain bent his head and stared at the floor. "Weisshaupt shouldn't have sent an Orlesian," he said fiercely.
"I agree, it's entirely too soon. But they didn't have a decent Fereldan choice, what with Alistair off on a bender, Cousland dead, and your reputation in tatters. Perhaps if you hadn't moved against the Wardens and driven your precious country to the brink of civil war, they could be swearing fealty to you, and I could have received a civilized post."
"I did what was necessary to keep my people free. And if I hadn't, I wouldn't be a Grey Warden at all," he noted sardonically. "Perhaps what you really mean to say is that if I'd done the decent thing and taken the killing blow against the Archdemon myself, I'd be dead and Aedan would rule the arling. I can't say I disagree."
Sylvie blanched, her stomach twisting at the thought. "That's not at all what I meant. But surely you can see that Weisshaupt was in a quandary."
The general glowered and stalked closer to her. "What I see is that the Grey Wardens seized their first opportunity to install an Orlesian in one of the most important arlings in Ferelden."
"If your daughter hadn't gifted the arling to the Grey Wardens in the first place – and quite frankly, I wish she hadn't – they wouldn't even have had the opportunity. I suppose she thought that with only one active Warden in Ferelden, you would be the obvious choice for Commander. You, a man who had just Joined scant months ago?" Sylvie scoffed, and folded her arms across her chest. "She did this, and you did this, and Weisshaupt did this, but I did not. I am simply fulfilling my duty as best I can. Accept that, Loghain. I am not your enemy, or Ferelden's."
Loghain looked furious, perhaps all the more so because he heard reason in her argument. "All Orlesians are my enemies, especially those grabbing back land and power that I liberated with the blood of good people."
Sylvie rolled her eyes. "Not everyone is as patriotic as you are, Loghain. I don't give a nug's nuts about the glory of Orlais, or using Amaranthine for its benefit. I just want to rebuild Vigil's Keep and find out what's going on with these strange darkspawn." She sighed. "Although now I have a conspiracy against my life to confront, which I'm sure should please you. I guess these dog lords haven't quite learned to roll over, after all."
Loghain exhaled heavily and stepped closer, his fingers curling and uncurling as he no doubt contemplated wringing her neck. Sylvie took a bit of perverse delight in his obvious battle for self-control. The air between them suddenly became charged as he invaded her space and gripped her waist, his other hand fondling her breast through the slick, thin material of her gown. The feel of his strong, warm body pressed so close to hers brought instant heat to her loins.
"You almost look like a proper lady," he hissed. His lips hovered against her ear and the tickle of his breath made her weak in the knees. "But if I lifted your skirts, I'd still find an Orlesian whore."
Sylvie laughed. "If you lifted my skirts, you'd find me wet and ready for you, as always, but I'm afraid duty calls…."
She stifled a happy squeal as he spun her around, pushed her against the desk, and shoved the hem of her gown over her hips. Their coupling was frantic and fast, his orgasm peaking on the heels of her own. She was amazed at how quickly he could arouse her, take her, complete her, and withdraw. Most women she knew didn't appreciate brief encounters, but since he always brought her to climax, she rather admired his efficiency.
"Now," he said, straightening her skirts. "Tell me about this conspiracy."
…
"This is ridiculous," Loghain grumbled. From the beginning, he had been entirely opposed to the idea of approaching the "Dark Wolf" for more information about the plot against Sylvie, believing it to be either a trap or a waste of time. She was amazed that he somehow managed to attach her inclination to seek out Ser Wolf to her heritage – apparently it was incredibly Orlesian of her to deal with shady characters.
"Just back me up," she snapped. They stalked through the dark streets of Amaranthine, which were crowded and pungent in the warm summer air. Sylvie was impressed that Loghain was capable of moving so quietly – he had exchanged his chevalier's plate for drakeskin, and he looked rather marvelous in the form-fitting leathers. Sylvie had had less luck scavenging proper gear from the armory. The only suitable leather she'd found was a studded tunic that ended mid-thigh, though at least her boots covered her to her knees. Despite her exasperation with her armor, she had reveled in the appreciative look Loghain had given her when she'd joined him in the Great Hall to set out for town.
The note from Ser Wolf, which had been thrust into her hand by a reluctant guard at the city gate, instructed her to meet him in an alley next to the inn.
"An alley near the inn?" Loghain asked, his words laced with wicked amusement. "Why does it not surprise me that an associate would expect to meet you there?"
Sylvie ignored him, pushing through the throng of people at the gate with one hand on her dagger.
"Not even decent enough to work out of a tavern or a brothel. You really are the most shocking whore I've ever met." She could tell he was really enjoying himself, and she rolled her eyes.
"Be on your guard, this could be a trap."
"Precisely why we shouldn't even be here," he growled. "I suppose you just can't resist the chance to roll around in the gutter with scoundrels and cheats."
"What would you have me do instead?" she asked lightly, trying not to betray her irritation. His habit of constantly questioning her decisions was insufferable, especially since his objections often boiled down to "too Orlesian." Usually Sylvie disregarded his prickly complaints, but it was rather hard to tune him out when he was her only companion.
"Wait it out. These conspirators will show themselves eventually – there's no need for all of this cloak-and-dagger nonsense."
"Well, when the plot is against your life, that's what we'll do."
"Do you think I haven't survived plots, slut? I've lived through more attempts on my life than you've lived years."
"You might not live through the next one, if you don't shut up," she snapped, finally losing her patience. "There's the alley, come on."
The alley was dark and narrow – they had to walk in single file and turn sideways to edge around a pile of crates nearly blocking the way. Behind the boxes, a man was waiting in dark leathers with a hood pulled up over his head, hiding his face in shadow. Very mysterious.
"Have you any business for me, ser?" she asked quietly. The man's teeth flashed white and bright beneath his hood, and he chuckled lasciviously.
"I might. What's your trade?" His purring tone left no doubt as to what sort of business he hoped she would provide. Clearly this fellow was channeling Loghain.
Sylvie rolled her eyes and was prepared to snap at him, when she felt Loghain's hand grab her hip. It startled her into a momentary silence, but she recovered quickly.
"Are you the Dark Wolf?" she asked impatiently.
"Some call me by that name. I see you got my letter, Commander."
"Yes. What can you do for me?"
The man laughed lewdly. "Oh, a great many things, if you have the time. I admit I didn't expect the Warden-Commander to be such a comely lass. I rather assumed you would look more like the dour fellow behind you. Don't worry, Warden," he said to Loghain. "I don't mind sharing."
"I do," Loghain growled, and his hand tightened on her hip. Sylvie was startled by his possessiveness, and she leaned into him slightly, hoping he would stay in check.
"This is absurd, Ser Wolf. I came here for information. Provide it, or I'll be on my way."
"There is murmuring in the city – murmuring that nobles want you dead. Rendon Howe made some people quite rich, and your presence here is… inconvenient. For the right price, I could get you names."
"Name your price then," she replied.
"Fifty sovereigns," he said firmly.
"Impossible." The Keep's coffers were depressingly low at the moment, as Sylvie had invested nearly all of their gold into rebuilding the fortress after the darkspawn attack. She could hardly afford half that amount.
"Well," the Dark Wolf took a step towards her, and again his grin flashed beneath his hood. "Perhaps we could barter? I'd credit you ten, if you'd put that pretty mouth to work."
She felt, rather than heard Loghain's low growl, but she was already laughing. "You insult me twice, cur. Be on your way."
The odious man shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you change your mind, I'll be around." He slinked out of the alley, and Sylvie released her grip on her dagger.
"Fifty sovereigns! Where am I going to get that kind of coin?"
"Would you like me to go drum up some customers for you in the inn? They could form a queue in the alley. At ten a pop, you'd only need five. Four, if you'd taken his offer."
Loghain sounded angry, which puzzled Sylvie to no end. She spun around and poked him in the chest.
"I didn't offer to suck him off, Loghain. I know you love to think me a shameless whore, but that was entirely his suggestion."
The general pushed her back against the wall, not violently but not gently, either. He braced one arm next to her head, and caressed her thigh with the other.
"You don't have to offer, my sweet little Orlesian slut. Your very existence is an offer. What else are you good for?" He leaned in and trailed his tongue up her neck, as his hand slipped between her legs.
Sylvie drew in a sharp breath, struck by his contempt. He loved to berate her, and she'd told herself again and again that since his opinion meant nothing to her, his gibes were of no consequence – but if she were honest, his words were starting to sting.
"Nothing else, I suppose," she said lightly, pretending his stab hadn't drawn blood. "I'm surprised you didn't negotiate the deal, since you're so intimately familiar with the goods. And then you would have had the pleasure of watching me ply my trade."
"I prefer to sample the goods myself," Loghain replied roughly. He slid his fingers past her smalls and stroked her sex, and she whimpered, already wet for him. "If I want to watch you whore yourself, I'll fuck you in front of a mirror."
Sylvie rolled her hips, encouraging him to plunge his fingers inside of her. "How Orlesian of you!"
He growled and pushed her back against the wall, forcing his knees between her legs. "You're rubbing off on me."
She laughed, stroking his cock through his leathers, and began unlacing them. "Every chance I get, Loghain. You know I can't get enough of you."
"Shameless hussy," he purred, but his lips curled in a half-smile that tripped her breath. Sometimes she longed to kiss him, but she didn't think she could bear it if she tried, and he turned away. Men like Loghain didn't kiss "whores."
Her armor didn't allow easy access to her breasts, but Loghain licked the top of them anyway as he readied her with his fingers. Not that she needed much readying – her sex had slickened the second he pushed her against the wall. She pulled his member free of his breeches, squeezing him in her palm and tearing a harsh moan from his lips. He reached down and grabbed his shaft, rubbing his cockhead against her crotch. Even through the thin fabric of her undergarments, the sensation of his hardness pushing against her caused her cunny to clench in anticipation. Loghain hitched her legs up and braced her against the wall, and Sylvie whimpered in her throat as he tugged her smallclothes aside and thrust his cock into her slippery passage. He was so thick and stiff, and she shuddered with delight.
"Yes, moan for me, wench," he panted in her ear. "Let me hear how much you want me."
Everything about Loghain was hard – his voice, his arms, his thighs, his cock – and it turned her on terribly. She pressed her face against his neck and muffled her cries of pleasure, her hands desperately clutching at his shoulders.
"Loghain," she gasped. She was trapped between the wall and the imposing fortress of his body, and he adjusted his grip on her hips and started pumping faster. "Loghain!"
"You're so willing, so wet," he murmured, bending his head to suck on her throat. "Always so ready for me, my sweet little whore."
"I know I am," she moaned in his ear, catching the lobe in her teeth. He hissed and fucked her faster, rougher, and she felt like she was racing over a cliff.
She knew he was close when he grabbed one of her hands and shoved it down between their bodies. Gritting her teeth, she rubbed herself as he braced her in his arms and drilled her savagely. Sylvie hitched her leg higher, forcing him to take her at a different angle, and his cock struck her in just the right spot, wrenching desperate gasps from her lips.
"Come for me, my eager Orlesian bitch," he snarled, his dick sliding relentlessly within her. Sylvie buried her face against his shoulder, choking back moans as her climax crested and crashed. As usual, her orgasm seemed to tip him over the edge.
"Maker, you feel so good," he sighed raggedly, pressing her tight between the wall and his chest, trembling as he spent himself within her. Sylvie hummed happily, brushing his sweaty hair back from his temple, and placed a kiss on his brow.
"That's why you can't resist me," she said playfully.
Loghain stepped back so abruptly that Sylvie almost lost her balance. He frowned and tucked himself back into his trousers. "Of course I can resist you. You approached me."
"Not today, I didn't," she replied smugly. "Nor do I order you to my quarters every night."
Loghain sneered. "I don't doubt you would, if it suited you. Your idea of leadership is scandalous." He laced his trousers and smirked. "You know, if Weisshaupt really wanted to inspire the men, they should have installed you in the bed chamber, not the Commander's office. Our recruitment woes would be over."
Sylvie felt like he had slapped her. "You think I'm unfit for command?"
Loghain looked startled. "I didn't say that."
But after a month of insults and gibes, Sylvie's emotions overwhelmed her.
"It certainly sounded like you did to me," she hissed fiercely. "It sounded exactly like you said I'd make a better whore than Commander. That I should be recruiting with my cunt, not my commendations."
He furrowed his brow. "I didn't – that's not what – but you can't be surprised that your behavior would invite some remonstrance. Surely this isn't a typical relationship with a second-in-command."
Sylvie felt a hot rush of shame shoot through her gut. Loghain Mac Tir, perhaps the greatest general of his or her generation, found her incompetent. "You're right, Warden," she said coldly. "My impulses overwhelmed me and I've made some very poor decisions. Consider your invitation to my bedroom withdrawn."
She stalked out of the alley, not waiting for him to catch up, although he did so in several strides of his long legs.
"Commander!" He caught her arm but she jerked it away.
"Shut up!" she said, her voice low and rough. "That's an order."
He obeyed, following close on her heels to the stable, and he maintained his silence for the entire ride back to Vigil's Keep. Sylvie already regretted her hasty words – now that she had calmed down, she half-suspected Loghain had just been running at the mouth, as usual, and hadn't meant her to take him any more seriously than she ever did. But there was a vein of truth in his insult, and she needed to think about it. Loghain was the most intriguing man she'd ever met, but the Wardens were more important to her than anything else in the world. She couldn't compromise her service to them, not for any reason, but especially not for one as base and tawdry as sexual pleasure. Although "pleasure" described what Loghain did for her like "warm" described the forges of Orzammar. Still. She needed to think with her head, not her quim.
When she retired for the night, Sylvie locked her door, although she knew it wasn't necessary. Loghain wouldn't be back until she invited him again.