Chapter 2 - One Day

Outside in the corridor, Megan paused for a moment. She didn't know this part of the palace very well, but it didn't really matter. There were so many rooms that no one ever used. She turned a corner and, on impulse, opened the third door on the right, finding herself in a small study; probably some clerk's office. Nathaniel was close behind her, not even bothering to hide in the shadows. As soon as the door fell shut, he had her backed up against a wall, kissing her with fierce greed.

"Nate." She let her head fall back against the wooden panels, panting as his hot lips claimed her throat. His hands cupped her breasts, forcing them up above the neckline of her dress so he could suckle on her nipples.

She untied his heavy tunic and tossed it aside, running her hand over the bulge in his pants, fiddling with the laces. He was fully hard, must have been for some time, and he groaned with relief as his cock sprang free. Both of them were shaking with urgency. She helped him gather the folds of her skirt, bunching them up around her waist. As soon as the dress was out of the way, he sank to his knees, moaning at the sight of the lacy triangle covering her golden curls. The feel of his lips on her through the damp silk made her stifle a cry of pleasure. Oh, I shall definitely wear those again, preferably with Carver around. When he began tugging impatiently at the thin fabric, she hurriedly reached down to help him untie the little bows holding it in place.

That accomplished, he got to his feet, lifting her from the floor and arranging her legs around his waist. Not for the first time, Megan thought how nice it was to have a man with the strong arm muscles of an archer. It helped that she was slim and petite but even so she admired his strength as he propped her up against the wall and slid home with a single long stroke. He pulled back immediately, only to thrust again and again, setting a brisk but steady pace that took her straight to the edge. She fought to keep back her screams, but in vain. It was just too good, too overwhelming; his cock inside her; his eyes locked with hers; the small noises he made in the back of his throat.

She came with a final high-pitched whimper, her whole body tight against his; shuddering with the force of her climax. He laughed breathlessly then followed her with a few hard thrusts, lowering her quickly to the floor afterwards; both of them leaning against the wall for support.

Megan pushed Nathaniel gently back to rearrange her dress but as he bent to retrieve her panties, she gasped in surprise. Standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on his face, was none other than the King himself.

"Megan! Andraste's grace, what do you think you're—" Alistair's face was as red as a beet, his voice turning even sharper when he realized who she was with. "Get out of my sight, Howe! Now!"

Megan flinched at his tone. There was no love lost between him and Nathaniel, never had been. Alistair had been jealous right from the start, as soon as he'd realized they had known each other before the Blight. He was not so much jealous in the sexual sense—there had never been anything of that kind between him and Megan. But he was envious of Nathaniel's noble upbringing, his easy familiarity with Megan, even his life with her as a simple Warden, as opposed to the rules and conventions governing his own life at the palace.

Nathaniel tensed, his lips tight and his eyes flashing with fury, but before he could say something he would regret later, Megan put a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Nate. You'd better leave. You know I can handle this."

Handle him, she'd almost said. Megan bit her lip. It wouldn't do to forget that Alistair was king now, no longer just her fellow Warden tagging along with her without any ambition to contradict her. They had put him in a position of power, albeit against his will, and they had to acknowledge that. Still, she wasn't going to bow and scrape either. She'd known him too long for that.

They quickly covered up and Nathaniel left with a last worried glance at her. Megan turned to face Alistair.

He was actually pacing the room in agitation. "Maker, Megan! How could you—"

She shook her head, just barely resisting the impulse to roll her eyes. "Please, Alistair, calm down. It can hardly be news to you that Nate and I are more than just good friends. Surely the royal spy network is more efficient than that."

"I've heard rumours." Alistair clenched his teeth. "And how you can let him touch you is beyond my understanding... A Howe! With all his father has done to you, done to us!"

"He is not his father. What Arl Howe did or didn't do is hardly his fault," she pointed out, doing her best to sound calm and rational.

Alistair snorted contemptuously. "Whatever. What you and that... scoundrel are up to together at the Keep is no business of mine. What concerns me is how you can be so utterly shameless! You were lucky it was just me. Anyone could have walked in on you."

His prim tone was more than she could bear. Megan could no longer suppress her grin. "Well, yeah. That was part of the appeal, you know."

He shook his head, refusing to be charmed. "The two of you are a disgrace to your families. And a disgrace to the Wardens. If Duncan knew how you were besmirching our honour—"

"Oh honestly, Alistair!" Megan sneered. This is rich! "I owe Duncan a lot, and I loved him at least as much as you did but, as for him being honourable... He was a Warden through and through and he had few scruples when it came to doing what he felt was necessary." Alistair's stubborn expression irked her more than she could say, and the next sentence slipped out before she could stop herself. "Anyway, his honour didn't stop him from fucking me all the way from Highever to Ostagar."

Alistair blanched. "That's not true. Duncan wouldn't have—"

"You think?" Her expression was cool but at the same time she felt a hot stab of nostalgia at the memory of Duncan's warm, lean body. "He couldn't keep his hands off me, not for a single night."

"I don't believe you. He never mentioned anything of that kind!" Alistair stopped right in front of her, looming over her tiny frame, his face agitated.

Megan shrugged, unimpressed. "I guess I shouldn't have told you. He didn't want you to know back then, and maybe he was right. But you know what?" She stepped closer, gazing up at him. "It's time you stopped putting him on a pedestal and pretending he was a saint when, in fact, he was very much a man."

With an indignant huff, the king turned away and left the room. Megan watched him retreat, wondering if her words would have any effect at all.


Megan was woken by a ray of sunlight that tickled her nose, making her sneeze as she sat up in the big four-poster bed. Her room at the palace was nice, big and airy, much more pleasant than the simple little alcove Nathaniel had been allotted; not that she would ever have considered sending him off there to sleep anyway. He had been waiting for her in her room last night, and he had very thoroughly made good on his earlier promise to peel her out of her dress. Now, though, he was nowhere to be seen.

She yawned and stretched, flinching when she realized how stiff and sore she felt. Nathaniel was probably down at the archery range, showing off his skills to the young bucks from the Bannorn. Megan briefly considered joining him there. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine at the thought of watching him practise. He was so hot when he pulled back the string, his whole body tense with anticipation, his attention wholly focussed on the target...

But the weather was lovely, a bright spring morning, and she decided to go for a walk in the garden instead. For a while, she wandered aimlessly among the rose bushes, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the quiet atmosphere, until the peace was shattered by a large mabari bounding toward her with a happy bark.

"Barkspawn!" She recognized Alistair's dog immediately and obediently began to scratch the tawny belly presented to her.

And sure enough, the king wasn't far behind, looking a lot more relaxed than last night. Megan smiled to herself. Alistair was always happiest like that, out with his dog, in simple leathers, as far from the courtly protocol as he could get.

When he saw her, he looked more than a little sheepish. "Megan. I'm so sorry. I... was a bit rash yesterday, I guess. I apologize for what I said about Howe. But, really, what were you thinking?"

Megan grinned back, glad of the change in him. "There wasn't a lot of thinking involved, to be quite honest. But I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just... Those noble gatherings really bring out the worst in me. It's so hard to fight the urge to do something crazy, just to shake them out of their complacency."

Alistair smiled back ruefully. "Oh, I know the feeling. For the longest time I was tempted to play pranks on them at every official occasion. Maybe I would have done it, at one point or other. But Anora—" He broke off, blushing a little. "I'm afraid she wouldn't consider it funny."

Megan grew serious. She was well aware that this marriage would never have come about if it hadn't been for her relentless prodding. Some part of her still felt guilty about it. She had known Alistair didn't love Anora; she had known he would most likely be unhappy at court. And yet, it had seemed the best solution back then.

"How are you doing, you and her?" she asked carefully.

He swallowed, scratching the dog's broad head, but then he straightened his back and looked her in the eyes. "Anora is a good wife, and a wonderful queen. I don't think I'll ever be up to her standards, but she is kind and treats me with respect. We're... doing okay, I guess. And it's easier now that we no longer—" He broke off again, blushing an even deeper tone of scarlet.

Megan sighed. What Alistair really needs is a sweet young mistress to brighten his nights. She wondered who she could talk to in order to make it happen. Teagan maybe? Or even Anora herself. She doubted the queen would mind, as long as it was handled with discretion and Alistair didn't neglect his duties.

"Megan?" Alistair seemed hesitant, scratching his neck and avoiding her gaze.

"What is it?" She was surprised at the sudden rush of affection she felt for him. No matter their differences, they had been through a Blight together, and she knew he was a genuinely sweet person.

"Is it true? You and Duncan? Did you really—" He was blushing again! Maker, he really needs to grow up!

Megan sighed, but she kept her tone as gentle as she could. "Yes, it's true. But you need to understand... It wasn't some sordid affair, an old man lusting after a young girl, that sort of thing." She took a deep breath. "We both wanted it. We both needed it. I was hurting so much after what happened at Highever. Duncan making love to me... It was the only thing that kept me sane. And he—" She paused to collect herself, closing her eyes for a moment to regain her balance. "I think he was aware that he didn't have much longer to live. He knew better than anyone what would await us at Ostagar, and his Calling probably wasn't far off either."

Their eyes met and Alistair took a long, shuddering breath. It wasn't something the Wardens often spoke about, but neither of them could ever quite forget about it either. The Calling. The Taint was always there, waiting in the background of their lives like an assassin in hiding; waiting patiently, inexorably, until the day it would claim them. Him, her, Nathaniel. All of them. That, too, would always tie them to each other.

"It's fine, Alistair." She gently took his trembling hand. "Duncan won't be forgotten. And we will join him in the shadows, one day. Hopefully, one far from now."

He didn't answer, but he pressed her hand hard enough to make her flinch. They parted in silence.


"Maker, Nate, I'm so glad we can go back home." Megan exhaled deeply as they left Denerim behind, making their way up north toward Vigil's Keep. "Imagine if my father had got his way and I were married to one of those stuffy old banns now, spending my whole life at court! I'd have gone mad. They would have locked me up by now, kicking and screaming."

Nathaniel guided his horse closer to her side so he could take her hand, raising it to his cheek. "Shhh. You're here with me, and we're putting more distance between them and us with every passing moment. Two days and we'll be at the Keep, and Carver will be back soon." His eyes caught hers. "It's fine, Meg. It all turned out well in the end."

Megan smiled back. Yes, her life was good right now, with not one, but two, men who adored her and were ready to share the load with her; not bad as far as happy endings went.

Except it isn't the end, she thought with a sudden flash of wistfulness as her mind travelled back to her earlier conversation with Alistair. The end wasn't living happily ever after, no matter how much they loved each other. The end would be sad and ugly, a lonely death in the Deep Roads. But maybe the end didn't matter as much as the way there. Maybe all the years they would have together, full of love and companionship, were more important than that one brief moment of horror. After all, in the end, everyone died alone.

That, too, was all too human.


A big thank you to suilven!

You can read more about Megan, Nate and Carver on my AO3 account - look for "Stay" and "Three Is a Lucky Number" ;)