Maebh dragged herself out of bed, shivering in the predawn chill. Grumbling under her breath, she pulled a robe off the peg on the wall and tied it around her waist.
"Ghislaine!" she called, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What am I supposed to wear today? Ghislaine?" Only silence responded. When Maebh realized her fellow Warden's bed was still neatly made, she cursed. She would bet ten sovereigns that meant the girl's pursuit of Seneschal Perth had finally been consummated, if she could find someone stupid enough to take such odds. She threw a pillow at the door, noting with pleasure the soft thud it made against the thick wood.
Good for Ghislaine. At least one of them was finding some kind of satisfaction. Maebh hadn't had such an outlet since Alistair's visit, and it wasn't like there was going to be any repeat of that anytime soon. Or ever. No, if the tightness in her belly were to be relieved, she'd have to do it herself. But not today. Today was the Ball.
She grimaced. Maybe if she drank enough during the feast, she wouldn't feel so awkward during the dancing. Turning to the wardrobe, she tried to remember which gown Anora had deemed she wear today when there was a knock on the door. She ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the intruder knocked again, much louder this time. An annoyed sound escaped her as she stomped over to the door.
"What?" she grumped as she threw the door open.
"Good morning, Maebh," A far-too happy Renaud grinned back at her, his eyes flicking to her bared shoulder and naked thigh that had slipped out of her robe during her little tantrum.
The tightness in her belly clenched even tighter, and her cheeks grew hot. "Yes," she said, attempting to use her commander-voice while tugging the robe back up to a decent level. "Can I help you with something, Renaud?"
He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Oui, Ghislaine wanted me to tell you that you are to wear the grey silk with the Warden's crest embroidered across the, uh," he cleared his throat again flushed slightly, "across the bodice."
Maebh's embarrassment was quickly replaced by irritation. "So, did she give you this message last night, or did Perth's maid deliver it over breakfast?"
He shook his head and shrugged. "If you'll excuse me..." and turned to go.
"Wait." She reached out and grabbed his forearm. "Do... do you know if the First Enchanter has eaten yet? I wish to invite him to break fast with me."
He placed his hand over hers and left it there, and Maebh felt a blush creep up her neck at the feeling of his skin. "But of course. I will deliver the invitation personally, if you so choose." he said quietly.
"Do that," Maebh said, still trying to sound official. He nodded briefly before slipping away.
"So, how have you been enjoying the festivities so far, child?" Irving smiled as he sipped his tea.
Maebh cleared her throat, trying to cover for the fact that her brain seized up at the thought of offending the First Enchanter with her answer. "Overall, everything has been fine. It just gets so tiresome, spending all my waking hours with dignitaries and monarchs and keeping up appearances. That's why I invited you here, First Enchanter. I longed for some time with people who actually knew me as myself, not as the Warden Commander or Hero of Ferelden."
She picked at a scone, brushing the crumbs off the skirt of her mage robes. She hadn't worn them since she had found the Chasind robes in the Kocari Wilds. The garment felt stiff, heavy, confining.
"If you find it so irksome," Cullen interjected, "you could always come back to the Tower."
She inhaled deeply, attempting to control her irritation at the intrusion of both the Knight-Commander and the young Templar. When she sent the invitation to Irving, it had not occurred to her that they would assume it was extended to them as well. "No, Cullen, I do not think that would be a good idea."
"Why not?" Greagoir stroked his beard as he spoke. "We could certainly use you. Things are far better now than they were after Uldred's revolt, but we still have a shortage of experienced mages. And Irving certainly isn't getting any younger."
Irving laughed drily. "Eloquent as always, Greagoir. As to your point, you are aware that our Maebh here has some very important responsibilities outside of the Tower. She simply cannot abandon her order while they still are cleaning up after the last Blight."
Greagoir harrumphed. "I'm not suggesting she abandon anything, but rather determine where her talents could do the most good and apply herself there."
"But-" Maebh started. The walls were not actually closing in on her, regardless of how much it seemed that they were.
"She should come back," Cullen insisted, brow furrowed. "The new apprentices are planning things, I'm sure of it. I think some of the maleficarum survived and the Guerrin boy-"
"Wait, what about Con-" she tried.
Greagoir waved his hands dismissively. "The boy is homesick, it's all perfectly natural." He turned to Maebh. "You'll have to excuse Cullen. Recovering from the... what he experienced has been stressful for all of us. Irving and I thought that bringing him along to the celebration would help lift his spirits. And you have been feeling better, yes?"
Cullen nodded solemnly, stirring his porridge but not eating any.
"And to think, tonight is the ball!" Greagoir said with hollow gusto. "I have heard rumors that there will be fire dancers. I haven't seen a fire dancer performance in years."
Maebh shrugged. "Anora hasn't told me much, other than what to wear and when to show up. Speaking of, and I apologize for having to cut our time short, but I really shouldn't dally. She gets irritable if I'm late." She stood, gesturing to the maid to clear her place, and the older men graciously followed her example.
"It's not right," Cullen burst out.
"I'm sorry?" Maebh turned back, confused.
He reddened and looked down. "You and... and your f-family. It's not right."
Maebh glanced from Irving to Greagoir, who both looked as confused as she felt. "What isn't right, Cullen?"
He balled his hands into fists and frowned at the floor. "I did some research. The Chantry used to permit mages contact with their families. It wasn't until later that they forbid it, when they found that such intense relationships made them more vulnerable to demons."
"Well," Maebh twisted her hands together and slowly backed toward the door. "I will certainly keep that in mind."
"You should do more than keep it in mind!" Cullen stood abruptly, pounding a fist into his open palm. "You should come back to the Tower and help us keep it safe!"
"Cullen," chided Greagoir, "you're talking to the Warden-Commander of Ferelden. You must be respectful. Now come, boy. It's time to go."
Cullen looked up and met her eye, and what she saw chilled her. It was not merely frustration or shyness. He looked at her with a rage burning in his eyes that she could not comprehend. The anger he had revealed when trapped by the desire demon had not dissipated with time, but intensified.
She shut the door quietly after they left, feeling as if she had just slipped passed a monster.
The wine they had served her was lovely, deep and rich and red. It swirled along her tongue and made her head swim in a most pleasing fashion, fueling a pleasantly warm glow in her belly. "This isn't nearly as bad as I feared it would be," she leaned over and murmured to Alistair, thinking herself very discreet. He laughed into his own goblet.
"Oh?" challenged the Revered Mother, seated to her left. "So tell me young Warden, how bad did you truly expect it to be?"
Feeling like an apprentice caught wandering the halls after curfew, Maebh quailed under the Revered Mother's glare. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alistair shrink slightly as well.
Irving laughed. "Our Maebh has always been shy, poor thing. All this attention must be very trying for her."
Maebh glared into her soup. "I'm right here, you know," she muttered as one of the servers refilled her drink.
"Warden," Anora had risen her voice just enough for Maebh to know exactly just how much trouble she was in. "Would you kindly call your hound to heel?"
She looked across the table to see a flustered Empress of Orlais pushing at an inquisitive Mabari who was very interested in something in her lap, and the King and Queen of Antiva viewing the spectacle with the utmost amusement. "Not my dog," she shrugged. "Sal's right here." She gestured between herself and Alistair, just as he slipped a chunk of cheese to the happy canine.
"Anora, why do you have so many dogs in the banquet hall?" Celene asked, clinging to her dignity as best as she could. A servant attempted to drag the snuffling Mabari away, with little success. "Surely this sort of barba-" she bit her tongue. "It cannot be sanitary."
Maebh glanced down the table as Alistair and Anora tried to placate the empress. The other end of the table looked to be having more fun. Teagan and Ghislane were flirting shamelessly, and even Teyrn Cousland was joining in on whatever silly game they were playing. At the foot of the table, Isolde was actually smiling at something Eamon was saying to her. Though, she noted, Loghain seemed to be eyeing the King and Queen of Antiva with an odd intensity.
Finally, her eyes met Renaud's. He looked at her over the rim of his goblet, pinning her with a smouldering gaze. She shivered, though she wasn't cold, and occupied herself by attempting to eat the enormous cut of beef that had been served to her.
"By the Stone, this is a spread," King Bhelen enthused after he drained his tankard. "But I should have expected as much, seeing as the King here is a Grey Warden. You lot always have had most... impressive appetites."
The food turned to ashes in Maebh's mouth as Alistair and Anora both stiffened. Dwarven ideas of what constituted polite dinner conversation varied greatly from those Topside. Alistair took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, the Taint does tend to make one hungrier, as you know."
Bhelen nodded sagely. "Ancestors know I've met enough of your lot, on their way to the Deep Roads. They always ate heartily when offered meat and ale, but took so little with them on their expeditions. It is an odd juxtaposition."
"May we interject?" Celene said, bosom heaving ever-so-slightly as she pushed the persistent dog away while attempting to reach for Alistair's hand across the table. "We do believe that we speak for all of us gathered here, when we say how very much all assemebled appreciate and honor the sacrifice of the Grey Wardens. We are honored to celebrate your incredible accomplishments here today."
"Hear, hear!" shouted Teagan from the other end of the table, draining his tankard as Ghislaine and Fergus dissolved in giggles.
Alistair and Anora exchanged glances. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Celene," Anora smiled.
"Well, I wanted to commend you, personally, king to king," Bhelen continued, casting an irritated glance at the Revered Mother and First Enchanter seated higher than he. "I must confess, when we first met all those months ago I did not peg you for having such progressive attitudes."
Maebh stifled a giggle at the notion and the Revered Mother frowned as Alistair choked on a bite of potato. "Progressive? Me?"
"Of course! I would even go so far as to call it downright libertine," Bhelen leaned back comfortably, smiling broadly at the looks of confusion the other guests were exchanging around him.
An icy thread of anxiety snaked down Maebh's spine. Wherever Bhelen was going with this, it was nowhere good.
"Your Highness," Loghain spoke up from the other end of the table. "I hope you are not suggesting that the circumstances surrounding the king's marriage to my daughter is anything like your relationship with that Duster woman."
Bhelen waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing of the sort. I was speaking of his relationship with your other daughter. To be so open about their relationship is an astonishing leap forward for the people of this country."
The sudden silence nearly crushed Maebh. She bit her lip as everybody began reacting at once. She was dimly aware of the exploding chaos surrounding her; the Empress' shocked invocations of propriety, the faint flush of anger on Anora's face as she spoke in low, clipped tones at the sputtering Alistair, the Revered Mother's demands for an explanation, the First Enchanter protesting the very thought of such accusations on her honor, the roars of shouting and laughter that started low and increased in intensity until she was sure it would kill her. She could not control the will building up at her fingertips. She balled her hands into fists and shoved herself away from the table.
She did not even attempt to excuse herself as she ran all the way back to her chambers.
"I said I'm fine, Father! Leave me alone!" Maebh shouted at the door, hugging a pillow to her chest. Breathing deep, she beat back the urge to set random objects around the room on fire. That wouldn't help anything.
"Pardon, Maebh?" the muffled voice on the other side of the door was most definitely not Loghain's. "Shall I return later?"
It was Renaud. "Wait!" she called, running to the door. "No, wait, just a moment." The lock was being extra cumbersome for some reason.
She stared at Renaud as she swung the door open wide. "C-come in," she stuttered.
"I simply wanted to ask if there was anything you require." His brow wrinkled in concern as he spoke. "Are you hungry? Shall I have something brought up for you to eat?"
She bit her lip and glanced up and down the hall to ensure that it was deserted. "Please, could you just..." She tugged on his sleeve, "Could you just stay with me a while?"
"But of course." He bowed his head slightly and stepped into her chambers, shutting the door behind him.
"So who sent you?" she sighed, flopping into the sofa near the fire.
"Nobody," he replied with a shrug. "I thought maybe you could use a friend."
She sank deeper into the cushions. "I don't want to see any of them again. Ever. Can we just leave tonight? There must be a back door to this place, somewhere."
He laughed softly and made his way to the window. "Where would you like to go?" he asked playfully, peering through the glass. "Perhaps I can scout our way."
She smiled and stretched, tension seeping away. "Hm. What was that place you mentioned, where you said you grew up? The one with the little lizards?"
"Ah! Yes, and the wildflowers. Churneau." He tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully. "I am sorry to say, that plan would not work very well this time of year."
She curled her feet under her and leaned her chin against the back of the sofa. "Why not?" she pouted.
"Well, as you know it is rather late in the season for travel. And we would have to cross the Frostbacks in the middle of the first snows, and then go through Val Royeaux at the height of Satinalia celebrations. I don't need to explain to you why that would slow us down. And then we would still have many leagues to go before we arrived, and, unfortunately, when we got there you would discover that Churneau is miserable in the spring." He made a wry face. "It simply becomes a flat plain of knee-deep mud until summer begins. Besides," he turned to face her, "we still wouldn't be far enough away to escape your sister's rage once she discovered you were missing."
Maebh groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I should have killed Bhelen when I had the chance."
"If I may be so bold, what exactly did he say?" He asked gently, coming towards her. "I am afraid we could not hear on the other side of the table. All I could tell is that the Dwarven King said something to offend... well, everybody. Then you ran away."
"Oh Maker..." She sighed and sank lower in the cushions. "He congratulated Alistair on being so open in his relationship with... me."
"Oh!" His eyebrows jumped up to his hairline and he pursed his lips. "My. Teyrn Cousland had told everybody he just made a particularly ribald joke. I suppose that is one interpretation..."
"It's so unfair!" she burst out, clenching her fists. "It's over! I actually did what everybody was telling me to do and we agreed to stop and now I'm going to have my reputation … well I guess it couldn't get much worse, but it is awful for Nora and Alistair." She leaned her forehead against her knees. "I hate this. I'm no good at it. I just want to go out and kill Darkspawn and be left alone."
"It's only one more night, Maebh," he said, brushing the tips of his fingers across her hair and sweeping her bangs out of her face. "Then we shall return to killing and mayhem, I promise."
"Thank you," she said, looking up at him.
His fingers drifted down the side of her face, his touch so light she barely felt it, tingling against her skin. He cleared his throat and straightened his doublet, then bowed and turned toward the door. "By your leave, Commander."
"Wait, where are you going?" she asked, hurrying to her feet.
"I..." He seemed at a loss, "I had assumed..."
"I want you to stay with me," she blurted as shegrabbed the front of his doublet. "Please, I just..." Without waiting for her senses to return, she kissed him.
His mouth tasted of wine and she could feel the heat of his body through his clothes and her knees began to shake. Thoughts of her humiliation at the feast and the further indignities she would be forced to suffer at the ball slipped from her mind. All that mattered was that room and the feeling of his lips against hers and his hands on her body.
He pulled away, and she felt as if all the breath left her body at once. "I'm sorry," she said as he turned to the door. "I shouldn't have, I don't know what came over me." She turned away, not wanting to watch as he left.
She heard his hand on the latch and leaned against the bedpost, hugging herself. Suddenly, she felt hands on her shoulders, spinning her around. "I thought you were leaving," she exclaimed.
"Non," he said low, grinning mischievously. "I simply locked the door."
Again, his mouth was on hers. She reached for the laces of his doublet as he began to undo the buttons on her gown. "Maker, why didn't we do this sooner?" she said, frustration mounting. "This would have been so much easier if-"
He kissed her and pulled her toward the bed. Her thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. Her need for him pulsing so hard it became a tangible thing, a physical ache that settled between her legs. She shrugged out of her gown and tore at her undergarments.
He caught her hands and kissed her again, soft and slow. She struggled against him, and broke away. "But," she tried to collect her thoughts, "why-"
"Shh," he breathed against her neck, releasing her only long enough to disrobe. She took advantage of his distraction and pounced.
"Oof!" he grunted as she knocked him onto the bed before straddling him and kissing him passionately. She held his arms down and nipped at his lips, grinning at her victory.
It was short-lived. Somehow, he slipped out of her grasp and snaked his arms around her waist, and flipped until she was pinned beneath him. She scowled and tried to fight free.
Renaud loosened his grip and furrowed his brow. "I beg your pardon, did I misunderstand your intentions? Would you like for me to go?"
"No!" she squealed, wriggling her legs out from under him, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him close against her. She clutched the front of his shirt and yanked him close. "Why are you going so slow?" She could feel him hardening against her, which only served to baffle her further. "What are you waiting for?"
He chuckled low and smoothed the hair from her face. "Calme-toi" he murmured, kissing her neck. "Mon amour."
She relaxed slightly, and he pulled off his shirt. His hands caressed her body, and she thrilled to his hushed whispers of "ma belle dame." His mouth trailed down the skin between her breasts, her belly, and still he continued downward.
She sat up slightly. "What are you... Oh!" she gasped as his mouth found her center.
Her bones turned to jelly, and she leaned back against the pillows as his hands caressed her inner thighs. His lips and tongue brought sensations such as she had never felt. She could feel him smiling against her as she shuddered and cried out to the Maker.
Emboldened by her reaction, he doubled his efforts. She reached down and tangled her fingers in his thick hair. A single thought managed to penetrate through the waves of pleasure coursing through her.
Why had nobody told her of this before? How had she reached adulthood without knowing that this was allowed? Anger flickered at the corners of her mind, but then Renaud's hand joined to intensify the work of his tongue and her thoughts exploded like fireworks. She bit her fist to keep from crying out as her hips bucked and her body spasmed in ecstasy.
She fell back, flushed and glowing. "That... that was..." She found that she couldn't think of a superlative which would fully express how she felt.
He grinned and lay next to her, running his fingers through her hair. "Ma belle dame sans patience," he said, teasing.
She squinted at him. "You keep saying these things. You know I don't speak Orlesian. How do I know you're not insulting me?"
His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Because I would never do such a thing, mon petite chou."
Her squint turned into a glare. "You're playing a dangerous game for a man who never even took off his pants."
He frowned thoughtfully and nodded in agreement. "Oui, however, I thought perhaps you would appreciate a respite before we... progressed." He lightly drifted his fingers against the tip of her breast, and she sighed as the flames of desire were rekindled.
"What if..." she fought to maintain focus. "What if I get angry and throw you out?"
He leaned his head over to join his fingers. "I expect," he said as be began to fondle her, "that at some point you would come to reconsider that decision."
She took a deep breath, trying to formulating a clever response while refraining from arching her back, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Abricot d'Andraste," he cursed bitterly.
"Commander?" Ghislaine's lilt was muffled by the door. "Are you quite composed?"
"Uh," She scrambled to find her gown, suddenly thankful that she had never managed to get completely undressed. "Just... give me a moment." She tossed Renaud his shirt, pulled on her robe and threw her gown behind the changing screen.
"Commander?" Ghislaine repeated. "There is also a friend here to see you."
She felt a rising sense of panic. "F-friend?" she asked, clearly baffled. She hurried to try and comb the tangles out of her hair as Renaud laced up his doublet.
"Oui," came another voice. "If you will see me..."
"Leliana!" Maebh cried, her panic evaporating. She ran to the door and threw it open. "Thank the Maker!" She threw her arms around her, laughing delightedly.
"Oh, Maebh," Leliana said, eyes shining with happy tears. "It is so good to see you!" She looked behind Maebh and her eyes widened. "Oh, pardon me. I did not realize you already had company..."
"I was on my way out," Renaud's voice was cold and flat. "By your leave."
He nodded curtly to Maebh before pushing his way past Leliana and out the door.
.
.
.
.
.
Ok a few things:
Translations of what Renaud says:
"Calme-toi, mon amour" is "Calm down, my love."
"Ma belle dame sans patience," is "My beautiful lady without patience."
"Mon petite chou" is "My little cabbage".
and "Abricot d'Andraste," is "Andraste's [vulgar term for vagina]."
I have been told that mon petite chou is a legitimate term of endearment in French. I'm still not entirely certain whether the young man who told me such things was joking or not. Also I am hiding behind the fact that this is Orlesian and not actually French, so any errors in translation are because of that, ok? And not just because I was lazy and just used Google translate.
Again, many thanks and sparkles and flowers to LotheringRose for the amazing beta.
Special personal message to Mutive: the title is completely a coincidence. Unless you like it, then it's an homage :D