Loghain's sleep was far from peaceful. He was kept awake and turning in his bed with frightening 'what-ifs' concerning the next day. And when those faded he was plagued with torturous fantasies of a wanton elf pinned beneath him, crying out his name in ecstasy. He didn't know how but somehow, in the middle of the night, he fell into an abrupt and dreamless sleep. He spent the rest of the night that way, dead to the world as the hours until his wedding ticked by. When he at last did awaken it was far later than he was used to, the sun already up and ascending quickly in the sky. In fact there were several servants already blithely dashing about getting his things ready for his wedding day.

He ate a mild breakfast, which sat in his in his gut like lead as he allowed himself to be dressed in his wedding finery. Anora had decided to place him in his infamous River Dane armor, shined and mended to its best appearance. The full plate armor fit better than new when he at last got it on and the familiar feel of it was comforting to his aggravated nerves. Upon his shoulders and at his waist the colors of Gawaren were latched to him in the form of an expensive belt and a plush cloak of autumn red colors. Then, rather than allow him his helm, it was decided that he should wear a bronze circlet dotted with the same red gems which adorned his belt. Looking at himself in the mirror it was clear what his daughter and Queen intended for him.

She wished for the populace to view him as he had been for most of his life. The grand hero who had led Maric's armies and helped the ragged Prince reclaim his throne. This was how she intended to win the little game she'd begun. And although Loghain doubted it work as well as his daughter hoped he accepted the role she had given him. He grateful for it even, if it meant that he could sit comfortably in his armor and not some fine suit of silks and furs she might have otherwise planned.

He rose his head high and allowed himself to be escorted to the Grand Hall where his half of the wedding party was waiting for him, Anora at its head. She looked quite fine herself, dressed in a gown of rich purple and deep gold trim. She appeared more a Queen today than she nearly ever had. Her chin was held high and her stature was tall, prim, and pristine. He sighed inwardly, sure that the dress was there to hide the insecurities that ate at her. He took her hands as he approached and kissed each of her cheeks, standing back to smile at her. "You look beautiful Anora, are you sure it is not you who will be wed today?" he asked a bit cheekily.

His daughter and queen smiled, but did not laugh as she might have when she was younger. Instead she folded her hands politely before her and kept her head high. "You should save such compliments for your bride father. This is her day, after all, not mine. I would hate to outshine her."

Ah, he thought, but that is exactly what you intend to do. His daughter was no fool. She wanted to strip the Warden Commander of her influence over the common folk, make it clear that she was the power that guided the nation…and not the wisp of a thing that saved it. It was a desperate move, but as her father he could understand it. Nodding simply to his daughter he turned toward the opposite hallway leading to the Grand Hall to await the second half of the wedding party…and his bride.

He did not wait long. The clamor of cheerful chatter accompanying her troupe like the soft clamor of song birds as they entered the hall. With the King dressed in the suit of rich furs and silks Loghain had feared would be placed on him, on her right and the First Enchanter escorting her by the hand on the left, his bride turned and came into the Grand Hall. Her retainers lined behind her looked like a cascade of shimmering moonlight with dots of the sky peeking through here and there were many dressed in her colors to show their allegiance. Most of her retainers were her Grey Wardens and Loghain recognized a great deal of them. Including the dark-haired dwarven woman and the fair-haired Dalish elf who carried her long and beautiful train. It was as silver as mist, lined with soft white feathers and dotted with rubies as dark as blood. The train was clasped as a cloak around her shoulders by a thick but elegant chain of white steel and draped over the shoulders of her wedding gown.

It was blue, as light as the sky at dawn, with lace sewn like fading starlight into each hem. At her waist was a belt of dark, rich blue, lined and traced with silver vines and lilies carved from mother of pearl. The belt was matched by the white-steel circlet stuck within her intricate braids upon her head, each lily an accent to an elegant red curve. And from the circlet hung a delicate veil of dripping blue and silver lace which cascaded down her back and lingered over half of her face. Even the points of her large and long-pointed ears seemed to only be accented by the dips and valleys of the fragile accent. Anora had failed, there would be no outshining the Commander of the Grey with her order's griffon standing out brazenly in deep rich blue at the base of her train. The elf looked like a shimmering creature of the fade born from all the best dreams men have of women in the early beginnings of the night.

Or so Loghain thought. Perhaps he was simply taking from his own dreams of the night before. However it was, it was clear that the elf had outmaneuvered his daughter one more time. Anora, as rich and royal as she appeared with her gilded crown upon her head, looked like but an accent next to Tearanae in her bridal gown. She looked up at him with her sharp blue eyes and smiled demurely as she allowed Irving to lead her forward. The old mage smiled both proudly and wistfully…as a true father might at his daughter's wedding day and Loghain felt nearly ashamed that the elf had no real family to stand beside her on this day. From behind the First Enchanter, Knight Commander Gregoir strode forth to stand beside the elf as well, his grim face seeming almost the same as the old mage's. It struck Loghain as odd, but then the elf had shown clear consideration for both the Templar's as well as the mage's of the circle tower.

Perhaps both men were like father's to her, and the old general gave a respectful nod to them both. When he turned his steely gaze back upon his bride he spotted a light color to her cheeks as she blushed under his stare and there was a slight nervous shift as Irving brought her hand out for Loghain to take. He did so and was surprised to find her fingertips quivering. The First Enchanter chuckled at the look of mild surprise no doubt sitting upon the River Dane's face before he patted Tearanae comfortingly upon the hand and stood back to say with careful dictation. "I Irving, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi of Fereldon, hereby present to you; Teyrn Loghain; on behalf of this woman, the Circle of Magi, and the kingdom of Ferelden, Arl Tearanae Surana, Commander of the Grey. May the life you live together be a long, happy, and prosperous one." The First Enchanter's speech was formal, and a touch sentimental, but Loghain could hardly find fault with it.

After he finished speaking Irving stepped back and the Knight Commander took his place, his face more grimly set than the man who had gone before him. "I, Knight Commander Gregoir of Fereldon, hereby act as witness to this woman's will and intent. I shall stand as witness on her behalf on this blessed day and act no longer as her guardian and shepherd as she is given to you as bride, by the will of the Maker. May your union be blessed with fruitful years to come." Gregoir's speech was no less formal than the First Enchanter's had been. But there was a touch of warning behind his tone. A warning perhaps that surprised Loghain to hear from a templar on the behalf of a mage.

Regardless the River Dane nodded and gently squeezed the elf's hand with his own as he raised it to his mouth to brush his lips over her knuckles in a kiss. "With my sword I shall fight for you, with my shield I will defend you. With my life I shall cherish you. Though you are mine, I am also yours." he intoned, his eyes directed at hers, watching as each word that passed his lips made her pulse increase slightly in the palm he held. He could not think why it would, but the fact that it did made his ego swell just slightly.

Her eyes were direct as she gazed up at him from beneath her veil and braids, her long lashes making her seem shy although he knew she was anything but. "With my sword I shall fight for you. With my will I shall defend you. May you never fall nor falter so long as my love for you endures. Though I am yours, you are also mine." she stated clearly.

There was an almost uncomfortable shift in the air. Her reply was far from traditional and an uncomfortable murmur began to rise behind Loghain's back from amongst his more conservative supporters. They, and even a few within his bride's retinue, began to quietly mutter their disapproval …and Loghain found himself scowling. Not at her, but at the ill-speaking lot around them. With a quick but harsh glare he silenced the nay-sayers and then turned back to the elf with a smile touched with pride. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he dipped his head and kissed her. It was light and innocent, not at all like the kiss they had shared the night before but it was enough to shift the quiet in the room into a new sort of tense atmosphere. Both he and the elf seemed unsure of how to settle the group for once and they stood awkwardly until the clear sound of one clearing throat shattered the thick air.

The King, shooting them both a somewhat speculative glance with a slightly raised brow shook his head and gave them a small twisted smile. "If you're both quite done. I believe we have a church to get to." He commented easily, only the slightest tone of annoyance in his voice. The boy really was improving. Loghain felt himself smile at the lad, Maric would have been proud.

The petite elven woman gave a small laugh at the King's comment and granted him a thankful smile. "After you, your Majesty."

The King gave a roll of his eyes and muttered something that Loghain was sure amounted to something close to, 'Alistair, honestly how hard is it for someone to say?'. Both Loghain and his bride chuckled softly at this and the King spared them one last glare, with no real heat to it before turning back to lead the wedding party down the Grand Hall to the Palace doors.

With a large sweeping gesture and no small amount of fanfare the doors were swept open. As they left the palace and the enormous crowd spotted them the uproar was such that it felt like thunder breaking. It nearly threw him back and off his feet it was so strong. It was the nudge from the small elf beside him that reminded him to raise his hand and wave. The cheering continued as they were led down the palace steps, the guards dressed in their pristine parade armor drew in around them to keep the crowd safely at bay. Normally the King and Queen would walk as the head of such a procession, but it seemed Anora had thought it prudent to put her father first on his wedding day.

Ultimately, it was for the best, the crowd seemed to have forgotten that Anora and Alistair were there at all. Their cries were for the small elf beside him and, to a lesser extent, himself. But he was under no illusions, the people cared for her. She knew exactly how to earn their favor…perhaps better than Anora did. Perhaps that was because Anora was deceptive, manipulative. She knew the game of politics and she played it well.

But Loghain was beginning to sense that it was far different for the elf. Nothing was a game to her. Everything she did, she did because she knew it was right. Like a calculated recipe in one of her potions. Perhaps, to her, the world was like a complex potion. If she put in the right ingredients she would get the perfect result… perhaps she thought she would heal the world. He might have thought her naive…if she were not so damn good at maneuvering around that exact idea.

They descended the steps of the palace surrounded by guards and then walked on foot through the city until they reached the chantry. The templars met them at the doors and escorted them inside, adding themselves to the retinue of guards surrounding them, keeping the majority of Denerim at bay as the wedding party filed in behind them. The bells of the chantry rang out about them. Twelve times, to mark the start of the ceremonies. The brazier was aflame, as it always was and the Grand Cleric came to stand before it, her arms raised high. She began the regular intonations of the chant and Loghain sat upon his knees with the petite elf at his side as they were married before his daughter…and the whole of Denerim.

….

Weddings had never been long affairs in Ferelden and while weddings for royalty and nobility had a tendency toward longer affairs it seemed that the choice had been made somewhere down the line to keep the ceremony traditionally short. For which Loghain was thankful, that as their marriage was solidified he would not have to sit there biding through a long ceremony. Their hands were bound and they shared a kiss, more for show than any other they had previously engaged in. And then …it was over.

They left the way they had come, the wedding party filing into line behind them. They walked hand in hand to Arl Eamon's grand home in the very center of the city. The grand reception was bright and the largest affair Loghain had seen since Maric was crowned and wed to Rowan. Outside the hall he could hear the echoes of the whole of Denerim celebrating the marriage of two of the greatest heroes. Inside the hall the landsmeet had gathered along with the Grey Wardens and even a few foreign dignitaries to put on a royal affair fit for two people of such high prestige.

Loghain would have preferred to be out amongst the common folk. The stuffy and uptight atmosphere of his own reception was proving to be almost suffocating. Surprisingly enough it was the elf that made the event bearable for him. She remained by his side and helped him traverse their many meetings with subtly and grace. It helped that she seemed to have influence in many of the circles of power that had come to be seen or else to see her. There were very few who approached him with the intent to either influence the queen or else to garner his favor.

In fact, he was beginning to think he had been forgotten until he was approached late in the evening by, of all things, a dignitary sent from the Chantry. She was a dark, but comely lass about the age of the queen and although dressed in a fine dress of Chantry colors she carried herself as if she were clothed in mail. "M'lord Loghain, may I speak to you a moment privately?" she asked, her voice soft and demure. Too soft for Loghain's taste, her presence felt…wrong almost. Tearanae seemed to recognize it as well as the elf's gentle grip on his arm tightened slightly.

Yet another group of Orlesians was approaching however and the old Dane could see the calculation running through her eyes. As if she were laying out a battle plan and weighing her options. "You can cease your plotting girl, and stop worrying. I may not be as talented as you at subterfuge but I am no stranger to politics. Have your chat with the perfumed usurpers. I'll see to this and return after they've ceased bothering you with their flowery presence." he scoffed, smirking slightly.

The elf shot him a brief look of surprise, clearly caught of guard by how well he was able to see through her. She paused and then relented with a nod and smile, releasing him to intercept the Orlesian dignitaries before they could incense him with their presence. Relieved of his new bride Loghain turned to the chantry dignitary and gestured for her to walk with him. They walked together away from the main hall to an alcove where they could better hear one another. "So, Cass was it?" he asked her, when they were at last alone.

The woman tilted her chin upward in a show of pride, "Cassandra, m'lord. I'm called Cassandra Pentaghast." The softness gone from her tone. It seemed she was done with attempting to sweet talk him then. Good, he preferred things that way.

Loghain restrained himself from rolling his eyes in irritation. "Very well then. What would you have of me then, Cassandra."

The woman hesitated a brief moment as she tucked her hands behind her back, as if carefully choosing her words. "Are you aware of the current state of affairs in Kirkwall m'lord Loghain."

The old general paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "I would have to be deaf to not have heard of the Qunari attack and the murder of Viscount Dumar. What I fail to see is what events in Kirkwall have to do with me."

Again the woman hesitated and Loghain felt himself clenching his right hand, wanting a sword to threaten her with if it would mean she would get to the point quicker. "The events which led to the attack by the Qunari have placed the Chantry in a delicate state. There are implications that a member of the Chantry may have helped instigate the violence and may have attempted to garner Chantry sympathy by framing the Qunari for the murder of the Viscounts son. What's more the unrest between the templars and mages there-"

Loghain took a single step into the woman's personal space and glared down at her. "Perhaps I have failed to make myself clear. This is my wedding night, and your prattling is keeping me from my place and, quite frankly, I am beginning to feel as if you are wasting my time. So please…get to the point." he growled.

The woman flinched slightly but did not back down. Rather a hard and almost hateful edge came to her eyes. "Your marriage is precisely the reason I am here m'sere." she stated in a clipped tone, spitting out the word 'marriage' as if she found his bond to the elf to be…repugnant. "The woman- the mage you have married may have direct ties to key members contributing to the unrest in Kirkwall. A great precedent is being set in that city as we speak, and the Chantry fears that your wife may be influencing events in the Free Marches."

Loghain let out a short breath of irritation but stepped out of the woman's personal space to cross his arms. It was clear now that this woman had a distinct dislike for the elven woman he'd married. No doubt because of the power she wielded. He had little doubt that her prejudice was born from the fact that Tearanae was a mage. But more than that he feared this hatred stemmed from the simple fact that the elf had become a mage with a new sort of fearful power. Political influence. Yes, he could see why the Chantry would be nervous about that. Although it seemed to him that the elf had done more to aid the Chantry than any of it's own agents.

"What interest would my wife have in the affairs of Kirkwall. It is neither a Ferelden territory, nor a true victim of the blight. I hope you have something solid to back up your claims or else I may find myself inclined to throw you from these halls myself for slandering an Arl." he commented dryly, his steely gaze hardening.

"Kirkwall may not be of much Ferelden interest, but Grey Warden activity in the area has seen a stark increase since the end of the so-called fifth Blight." Cassandra bit out. Loghain drew himself up, almost ready to act upon his threat of casting her from the hall for even entertaining the idea that what had happened in Ferelden was no true blight, despite having said so once himself. The stain of corruption still littered the land. It was obvious to anyone who visited. But the Orlesian wench interrupted him, "What's more a rogue Grey Warden mage has been on the run from Templars in the city for some time. Spreading slander and anarchist propaganda. A mage who was inducted into the Grey Warden order by the woman you claim as your wife."

This caused Loghain to pause. This was disheartening information to hear. If true, Tearanae may very well have been involved. She treated those she brought into the order like family. He was well aware of the lengths she would be willing to go to protect those she deemed under her protection. Roused and having come to the conclusion that she had gained ground for her cause, Cassandra smiled almost victoriously and pushed on before he could retort. "What's more the pirate thief nearly directly responsible for the Qunari attack is rumored to have had intimate knowledge of the Arl and her missing brother-in-arms."

This may have had the opposite effect she was searching for. Instead of sparking in him fury that his new bride was not some blushing virgin…it incensed him against the dark woman standing before him. He stepped into her personal space once more and placed a harsh hand on her arm. "You have ten seconds to tell me what it is you are after before I drag you from these halls and toss you into the street myself." he snarled, his eyes livid.

The woman visibly balked and attempted to wrench her arm free to no avail. At last deciding she had no chance of escape she calmed and stared him down. "She is your wife now m'sere. If anyone in the whole of Thedas is capable of discovering where her loyalties truly lie and how far her influence reaches…it is you. The Chantry simply hopes you will help steer those loyalties in the correct direction."

Loghain growled and tossed the Chantry delegate away, nearly knocking her to the floor as she stumbled into the opposing wall. "If I am to guide her loyalties in any direction, I shall direct her back to Ferelden. The Divines have seen fit to ignore the home of Andraste and it's troubles. Why shouldn't Ferelden's champion provide the Chantry the same courtesy?" he spat before turning on his heel and returning to the grand hall.

It took only one brief glance around the grand hall to find his bride. The elf a standing isle of silver and flame amongst a crowd of royal purple and gold as she spoke with Anora and Alistair. As Loghain watched he could see that, for the first time, his daughter seemed at ease with the elf's presence. And that thought granted him a small amount of peace. He waded through the throng to join the three of them. As if by natural circumstance he entwined his arm with his elven bride and stood beside her, letting her presence calm him as he listened to his daughter and Tearanae discuss the difficulties facing the agricultural trade and how it might be amended.

He could see the way that Maric's bastard tried to keep up with the conversation, clearly listening in and attempting to learn…if not to offer an opinion. It surprised him for Cailan had such little interest in the true mechanics of ruling when he'd been king. He'd been flighty and pig-headed…the way Maric had been when Loghain had first met the boy king. But Alistair seemed to be Maric as he was when he'd been content with ruling. And, though not for the first time, Loghain wondered if Maric had not backed the wrong child for a place upon the throne. It might have saved them all a great deal of trouble. He reminded himself that he had a hand in that decision…but settled with it all the same. He had not had control over the man. Maric had made the decision himself. Tradition and propriety made fools of them all it seemed.

When at last the festivities came to an end the royal party rode back to the palace by horse-drawn carriage. The carriage itself was open and the wedding party was forced to provide one last celebratory wave and smile for the crowds of now drunk and nearly riotous crowds of common-folk and peasantry. The guards were having a hard time keeping them all back as they made their way slowly back to the palace's lower gate. The entire time the elf seemed to grow nervous beside him, her grip on his hand almost painful from the way she squeezed it. He wondered why she, of all people, would be afraid of the common people…when they seemed to adore her so much. He thought back to his discussion with the Chantry delegate and admitted that she was perhaps right to be afraid. An assassin would have no more perfect a moment to strike at her …or either of them for that matter…then at that moment.

But nothing transpired and as they entered the palace everything seemed to transpiring as smooth as silk. They continued through the halls of the palace to their own quarters, now a joint suite not far from the royal chambers. At the doors all save their own inner circle of attendants and overseers remained to witness as Loghain lifted his petite bride, train and all, and carried her across the threshold into their new chambers. He set her back on her feet and both of them…too tired to argue…allowed their servants to pull them away so they could be undressed.

As Loghain was stripped of his armor and wedding finery he began to feel a twitch of nervousness beneath the exhaustion of the day. This was his wedding night. When the servants were done with him he would be left alone. With that heavenly beautiful creature of mist and fire who looked like an innocent and kissed like a wanton concubine. Despite himself he began to shudder in anticipation as the servants filtered out one by one. Finally he was left alone, standing in nothing more than his smalls beside his bed. He stared at the screen where the silhouette of his elven bride could be seen. Nothing more than a simple silk shift left to her…he wondered if she would be bare beneath it. The idea was almost too much to bear.

He stood there for a long moment before he realized that she hadn't moved an inch since the servants had left them. In fact, she seemed to be standing there, playing with her hands. He furrowed his brow in thought and then couldn't help but smile…the damnable waif was more nervous than he was. He crossed his arms and smirked at the screen. "Will you be coming out sometime tonight or must I come get you?" he drawled.

He watched as she gave a small jump and tucked her hands behind her back as if he were her tutor and had caught her staring at out a window rather than focusing on her lessons. "I…of course I will. I just- I simply…need a moment." she stammered. She turned and seemed to be fidgeting with something and Loghain chuckled and began to take steady steps in her direction. He could see the way she went abruptly stiff and backed up against the edge of the screen. He smirked, and continued until he was at the edge of the screen.

He could hear her breath catching in her throat. He pushed back the screen in one smooth motion and found her practically cuddled into a corner beside a chair. He was right about her silk shift, he could practically see straight through it, beneath he was wearing only her smalls. Her hair was undone and in a tumble of waves and curls. Her face was flushed and she was clinging to the front of her shift, bunching it up in her lap. "Wait I-" she began only to be interrupted as he lifted her and carried her half-draped over his shoulder.

"I did warn you I'd come get you." He told her, amused with himself as much as he was with the way she squirmed in his hold.

"You didn't give me any time! I- I needed to prepare." she barked, still attempting to break loose even as he came to the foot of the bed they would be sharing. He set her down without much ceremony and she bounced lightly before she settled, curling up a bit and gazing up at him with a nervous glance.

"Forgive me m'lady but I don't believe there is much more you can do to prepare for what is now ahead of us. "

The elf turned a particularly sharp shade of red and released a sharp sound of amusement. "May I…may I assume you are referring to the fact that we are now bound to spending the rest of our lives together?"

Loghain's mouth pulled into a small smirk, "No, no I am not."

The red faded from her face and she managed to smile at him, though it was touched with uncertainty. "Ah…I see. Forgive me, it's just…this…all of this. Was thrust upon you, and I do not even know if it's what you desire or if you are doing it simply out of a sense of duty. I would…understand, if you found me to be undesirable."

He scoffed and pulled her to him by her wrist, holding her against his chest. "You are, a most frustrating creature. Did you know that?" He told her, giving a frustrated sigh as he pulled her face to his and kissed her, deeply. Like that first strange kiss, she hesitated at first before responding. When she did it was like sparks flying off an anvil, or a raging dragon's fire. Passionate, fiery, and nearly all-consuming. She ran her hands over his bare arms and he gave a light shudder as he pulled away.

"How could any man alive on Thedas find you undesirable?" he murmured, brushing her hair back from her face, behind her large, long, pointed ears.

Tearanae quivered beneath his touch and glanced away. "Every man who has ever desired me has abandoned me. So you'll forgive me if I'm a little…self-depreciating."

Loghain stared at her in slight surprise for a moment before took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He brushed his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. "Then they must be true idiots. I may not have always thought so, but you are remarkable…as well as beautiful. I may not have asked for this union of ours…but I do not resent it."

She gazed at him in near disbelief before her lips twitched into a truly wicked smile. "I'm not particularly resentful of it either." she told him before her hand found a particularly lewd place to settle.

"Somehow I get the feeling you will be the death of me…one way or another." he breathed before his hands found the belt of her robe and pulled it free.

Whatever resistance, hesitance, or innocence might have remained in the elf melted away in that moment and in their place was the woman he'd glimpsed in their lustful kisses. He cradled her smaller body as he aided her in casting aside her small clothes. Beneath he found her pale and dotted with thin white scars. Three in particular around her chest and shoulders, remnants, obviously of arrows. He traced the one over her right breast, near to her heart, with his hand and then with his mouth. She moaned and arched against him before she shuddered and traced her hands through his hair. Her slim fingers were cool to the touch and flowed through his hair like water.

She boiled in his touch, his hands tracing over her breasts and then down her sides, over her hips and across her waist. She was shuddering beneath his touch, aching and emitting quiet sighs of pleasure. She traced her pretty legs across his torso and thighs. He tried to think how it had been with the women he'd been with before. Yet there was no comparison. Just when he thought he had a grip on her or had caused her to finally be lulled into complacency with pleasure, she would turn the tables on him. Her hands would follow the lines of his muscles or she would press her body against his so perfectly or in just the right way to throw him completely off-balance.

She was like wrestling with a snake. A bloodly wyrm that couldn't keep it's various appendages to itself. Growing impatient with her, he took her by her hands and pinned them above her head, giving a brief snarl and staring down at her with a feral grimace. "You impish little waif, do you ever just lie still for a moment?"

She snickered and grinned at him, "Not in these instances, no." she mused. She pushed her hips up to rub against his and he took in a sharp breath. "I've learned too much from antivans to rogues…and a few things from a pirate."

He tilted his head at her curiously, "Well…I wasn't aware of that last one."

She chuckled slightly and tilted her chin down in a demure display, "Does it at all change your view of me?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, "Not at all. You are still an impossible, stubborn, and impish wench." He punctuated each descriptive word with a kiss upon her squirming form. At her neck, her collarbone, and then he came to her breasts. He placed his lips against one rosy nub and then traced it with his tongue. She gasped and shuddered, her body arching beneath his hands. He let his teeth scrape lightly against it and then suckled at the nipple a tad harshly. She let out a glorious cry and her hips rose, pushing herself against him.

He groaned, the feel of her against him like a torturous strain of luxury he had never known. He had never felt rich, not in all his life. Not even when he sat upon the throne on behalf of his daughter. He had never felt as if anything he touched or held was as luxurious as what those Orlesians so loved to speak of. But her, she was as soft as new fawn skin, as warm as fresh milk, and the taste of her was like honey on his tongue. With her in his hands, crying sweet musical tones of pleasure and delight, he felt wrapped in luxury and a rich man at last.

He wanted more of her, as much as she could give. He let his mouth trail down further, tracing the curve of her stomach down to her navel. She began to shiver in his hands as his mouth and tongue traced her navel and the line of her belly. She was soft on the surface, but he could feel the muscle she'd developed in the past few years. Swordplay had begun to set into stone what had already been carved into her figure by her adventures fighting against him and the blight. And beneath that was still more power. Power enough to slay dragons, old gods, darkspawn, and demons. Magic so strong it had held him fast and knocked the breath from his lungs. Even now he could feel it. Like lightning singing his fingertips.

She was a mewling mess beneath him as he took her hips and rose them to meet his. He pressed himself against her wet entrance and she sighed his name. That utterance felt like a spell falling upon him, washing over him and absolving him of his sins. He prayed to the Maker to forgive him, for he felt that if he had her at that moment, then he could be forgiven of anything. He pushed into her and found no resistance. And the second he had her…she had him as well.

Her legs locked around his waist and pulled him in close. She rose up to meet him and wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers dancing delicately across his vertebrae and pulse. Her mouth found his and pulled him into a dance of tongues and teeth. She was not pliant and docile his new wife. She was like a fire. Warm and inviting, but impossible to truly control. She prodded and guided him so expertly he would have thought her the one who was older and filled with experience.

He had never known such pleasure. Not in the arms of his dear parted wife, nor in the arms of the woman who would be his queen. This elf, who seized power for the sake of others, showed him her passion through strokes of her hand or her leg, kisses and bites, soft utterances and loud cries. He was pounding into her near the end, he was rough and harsh as he had never sought to be in the bed chamber before. Yet she was screaming out with pleasure, sweat soaking out and making her skin glisten. She curled around him and then shouted his name as she came.

He could do nothing but follow quickly after her. In her wake, as always. He rolled to the side as exhaustion hit him and for a moment they lay there…panting. Both attempting to gain back their breath. It might have ended there. But not long after he had calmed he had felt her hands on him once more. She climbed atop him, grinning and glowing like a demon, and rode him to their mutual satisfaction once more.

Each time he thought her finished she would drag him back in for more. Always more. Taking and giving until neither one of them could stand. When at last she was spent, a tired, fragile little thing half asleep and dazed from pleasure he rose to bring a wash basin to their bed side. He gently washed her, her flesh rippling under his touch the way a horse does after traveling quickly for miles. She slipped into sleep as he tended her, a light smile gracing her lips. He took pleasure in that…he knew her dreams could not be easy to bear. He still remembered the nights she awoke screaming from terror in their make-shift camps on their way to Red Cliff and Soldier's Peak.

And there had been nights since then, though far less in frequency, when he would hear her…late in the night.

When he finished with her he renewed the basin and cleaned himself, letting himself take delight in the coolness of the water. He had grown so warm, bathed in her fire. He climbed in beside her only when he could find no lingering spot of sweat stuck to him. He pulled her into his arms, unable to deny that he wanted her there. And allowed himself to slip away into sleep.