Chapter 10 - Temptations
Rosalyn would never get used to talking darkspawn. Even though the Architect was eloquent and convincing, calm and polite, some part of her kept shaking with revulsion at the sight of the creature. Utha was worse. Looking at the former warden who was showing clear signs of the Taint was an unpleasant reminder of what lay in store for herself in the not-too distant future.
"Is it not the way of the Grey Wardens to do what must be done, in the name of combating the Blight? The Blight is a menace, both for your people and for mine." The Architect inclined his strangely deformed head, as if he was listening for her answer.
Maker, but the thing is persuasive! The thought that his plan could mean an end to all Blights was more than tempting. Not to mention the fact that he would be an ally in the fight against the Mother. Rosalyn looked at her companions. They all looked exhausted, even Justice. Fighting their way here had been anything but easy. Seemingly unending numbers of genlocks, childer grubs and hurlocks had thrown themselves at them, even before they encountered the High Dragon. The gargantuan beast would have killed Velanna if it hadn't been for Nathaniel's presence of mind.
Rosalyn was worried about the elven mage. Velanna was almost at the end of her strength, held upright only with the help of far too many lyrium potions. Her eyes had been feverish with a kind of desperate hope ever since they had encountered Seranni at the top of the path. More than anything, Rosalyn wanted to help her recover her sister.
Yet when the Architect finally admitted he would need Grey Warden blood to create more talking darkspawn, Rosalyn's mouth set in a firm line.
"No. I can't do that, no matter what you offer."
Ignoring Velanna's cry of protest, they attacked. It was a desperate fight, and it pained Rosalyn more than anything when she had to kill Utha, but they prevailed. They went on to face the Mother and through a combination of perseverance and blind luck, emerged victorious from this fight as well.
However, when they left the Mother's lair, exhausted and shaken, Velanna turned to face Rosalyn, her face hard and hostile.
"Commander. I have to ask you to release me from my oath of allegiance. There may still be a chance of finding my sister, in spite of what you did in there." She didn't wait for an answer, just smiled at Nathaniel, a little wistfully. "Goodbye, Nate. I'm sorry."
Then she was gone.
Loghain frowned when he read Rosalyn's letter. Amaranthine lost, the Keep attacked by darkspawn. And here he was, too far away to be of help, useless, impotent. Still, he was proud of her for making those decisions. It couldn't have been easy. Then a sentence near the end of the page caught his eye.
There are reports that Morrigan was sighted near Flemeth's hut. I'll find out if there's any truth to this as soon as I can.
Morrigan. Loghain's frown deepened. He remembered the night of the ritual all too clearly. He had told the witch he would have to close his eyes and think of his dead wife, but it had been a lie. It hadn't been Celia's face he had seen in his mind, much as he had loved and respected her. No, when he had sunk deep into Morrigan's willing flesh, it had been Rosalyn he pictured in her place, her firm young body wrapped about his, her blue eyes hazy with arousal. He had felt dirty and lecherous afterwards, an old man lusting after a girl he'd known since she was in swaddling clothes. But he had burned for her ever after, only for her.
With a deep sigh, he pocketed the letter and walked toward the stairs, off to face another cold and lonely night. Turning the corner, he nearly ran into Mallory, the pretty kitchen maid. She smiled, her small breasts heaving in the deep cleavage of her low-cut, Orlesian-style dress. Bobbing him a curtsey, she glanced up at him from under her long lashes.
"Anything else you need, Ser Loghain? All you have to do is ask."
Her meaning was more than obvious, and for a fleeting instant he was tempted to take her up on her offer. It would be so easy to pretend she was who he really craved, to lose himself in blond hair and soft limbs for just one night, to find the release he needed so badly.
But he shook his head, his face firm and resolved. "Nothing, thank you, Mallory. Good night."
It was strange to be back at the Keep after all the horrors they had been through. Strange to realize their foes had been soundly beaten, finally leaving them a little breathing space, a chance to regroup and recover, to rebuild the Warden presence in Ferelden without constant interference from the darkspawn. They needed the break, too, battered and bruised as they were.
The summer was drawing to an end when another letter from Loghain arrived. Rosalyn grabbed it and retreated to her room, eager for news from him, hungry for assurances of love and devotion. She should have known better. The letter was brief and terse, just a note really, telling her he was faring well. He missed her, yes, but he sounded resigned, almost philosophical about it.
Don't fret, Rose, and don't worry about me. Soon we'll be together again, and until then, I can stand it if you can. Missing someone gets easier every day. It may be one day farther from the last time we saw each other, but it is one day closer to the next time we will.
Putting down the letter, she harrumphed in frustration. Blight it, Loghain, why do you have to be so calm and serene about everything? Just once she'd like him to admit he needed her, wanted her, just as badly as she needed and wanted him. Being stoical about it was all well and good, but she craved an assurance that he felt like she did. She shook her head. It probably wasn't in his nature to admit to it, even if it was true.
Suddenly her room seemed stuffy and crowded. A glance at the windows told her it was already late. How long had she been sitting here, thinking of him, raging at his cool composure? She needed company, someone to take her mind off this.
When she got down to the throne room, it looked deserted. She had already turned around to go, when she heard the clinking of glass and realized Nathaniel was sitting at one of the tables, in the dim light of the dying fire, drinking alone. He had become quiet and withdrawn after Velanna had left, obviously hurting but unwilling to talk about it.
"Nate. I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude-"
"You're not intruding." Rosalyn flinched at the bitterness in his voice. "I'm lonely, Commander. Lonely and unhappy. Why don't you join me for a drink? You don't look so chipper yourself."
She gratefully accepted the proffered goblet and sat down at his side. "I'm sorry about Velanna, Nate. But I don't think you should give up hope just yet. Maybe she'll be back."
Nathaniel shook his head. "She won't. Her sister is far more important to her than I ever was." He closed his eyes, and the pain was clearly visible on his dark, handsome face. "You know, for a while I was fool enough to believe she loved me. We were happy together, or so I thought. But-"
He broke off and reached for his goblet again. "What about you, Commander? Tired of being on your own? Do you miss the old man so much?"
"Oh, Maker's mercy, call me Rose, Nate." She filled her own goblet and took a deep sip, trying to collect her thoughts before she answered.
There had been a curious edge to Nathaniel's voice, and she wondered whether it was wise to share her feelings with him. But she needed someone to talk to, and she knew she could rely on his honour and discretion.
"Yes, I miss him. Every day and..." She blushed briefly. "Every night. It's so hard to have no one to carry the burden with me." She swallowed. "Nate, I feel so alone."
"You're doing fine without him. And you're not alone." Leaning over to her, he refilled her goblet, his hand brushing against hers. "Never, Rose. None of us would ever desert you. Well, except for Velanna, I guess."
The bitterness was back, and Rosalyn reached out impulsively for him, grabbing his wrist. "Nate. Don't."
He caught her gaze, his expression unreadable. "You're right. No use thinking about it, is there?"
"No." She sighed, but then her face softened. "No use crying over spilled milk, my nan would have said."
"Mine too." A boyish grin crossed his features for an instant, and they shared a look and a smile. "Happier times back then, eh, Rose?"
"Much happier," she agreed. "Remember when Tom and Fergus went off to the Chantry to become templars?"
"How could I forget?" His smile was genuinely warm now.
For a few hours they traded stories, reminiscing about their childhood. Nathaniel had always avoided talking of the past before, no doubt mindful of the horrors at Highever and his father's role in them. The drink made him more relaxed, she found, and more friendly. Once or twice he even laughed out loud.
They were well into their second bottle of wine before she noticed how late it had become. "Time to sleep, I guess. Thank you so much, Nate."
"Thank you." He had become serious again, but he looked better too, less pinched, less desperate. "Good night, Rose."
She got up to leave, but she must have had more to drink than she realized. She swayed on her feet, and was grateful when he caught her around the waist, holding her upright with ease. He has such strong arms and broad shoulders. Just like Loghain.
"Careful. Let me help you." There were fine lines of amusement around his clear grey eyes.
Slowly they made their way up to her suite. It was nice, Rosalyn mused as she clung to Nathaniel, nice to be held like this, nice to have someone to take care of her. He felt good, too, lean and taut. His hair was brushing against her cheek and she breathed in his scent, of leather and red wine. Rosalyn shivered.
Then they were at her door and he carefully propped her up against the wall, while he reached for the handle.
"Nate..." Rosalyn knew she wasn't thinking clearly.
Her brain was pleasantly addled, and she was so very tired of doing the right thing. She had tried so hard to be as strong as Loghain wanted her to be, but she was exhausted and lonely.
Almost of their own accord, her arms slid around his neck and her body melted against his. "Don't go, Nate."
Her lips brushed against his, soft and sweet, and he tensed, his whole body responding to her proximity.
"Rose..." He sounded so hoarse, so passionate that she instinctively closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace, waiting for his kiss.
But it never came. Instead, he stepped back and gently removed her hands from his shoulders. "No, Rose. Not like this. Let's not do anything we will regret in the morning."
She moaned impatiently, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "Why not? Don't you want me?"
His grip tightened around her wrists, and his breathing quickened. "You have no idea how much I-" He broke off. "But I'm not over Velanna, and besides, you don't want me, Rose. You want Loghain." Ignoring her protests he went on. "Yes, you do. You want him and you love him. And that's why you will now go into your room and go to sleep and dream of him."
There was a faint smile on his lips as he turned her around and gently but firmly slapped her backside, shoving her into her room. "Good night, Rose. Sleep it off."
Then he was gone, and the door fell shut. Rosalyn leant back against the heavy oaken wood with a deep sigh. Of course he was right. She was lucky he was so honourable, so decent. But right at this moment, she hated him for it.
Many thanks to ShebasDawn for all her help with this.