NSFW content in this chapter (hooray)!
~o~O~o~
Nathaniel knocked on the office door and opened it whilst skilfully balancing the tea tray on his other hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Nate, I should have left the door open," Caroline said shiftlessly, crossing the office to help him.
"Don't worry, I can manage," he replied, and Caroline moved some papers aside so he could place the tray on the desk.
"Cake, as well?" she remarked, rubbing her eyes and settling back in her chair. "You're spoiling me."
Nathaniel began to pour the tea, watching her all the time. She slumped back and closed her eyes, massaging her forehead.
"Headache?" he asked, to which she nodded. "Do you want me to fetch Anders? He's probably still up."
"No, don't bother him," she replied, offering a thankful smile as he passed her tea over. She took a sip and sighed, closed her eyes again, and let her head fall back.
Nathaniel continued to watch her carefully. "Shouldn't you go to bed?" he asked. She opened her eyes and looked at him.
"I wouldn't be able to sleep," she said quietly, looking out of the window. Nathaniel didn't know what she was looking at; it was pitch black outside, and the window pane was obscured by the heavy rain that pelted against it.
"What's the matter?" he asked gently.
"Oh, I don't know," she said with a shrug. "It always seems to be raining, here. It gets me down sometimes."
Nathaniel frowned. "It's said that if it's only raining in Amaranthine, then the weather is fair."
She snorted softly. "Does it ever snow here?" she asked, taking another sip of tea.
"Snow? Well, I remember it snowing a couple of times when I was a boy, but you always seemed to have the snow up at Highever, from what I recall."
An awkward silence fell; one that always fell whenever Highever was mentioned. Both of them avoided bringing it up in conversation out of consideration for the other.
"I'm sorry," he said, angry with himself.
"No… no, it's fine," she replied, smiling thinly. "I do miss the snow from home," she sighed, catching Nathaniel's eye; he immediately looked away and took a piece of cake. "We used to have seven or eight feet of it some winters, and on a clear day one could see all the way to the Frostbacks, which were always tipped with snow. Sometimes I used to go outside when it snowed and just let the flakes fall onto my face," she said with a sheepish smile. "Do you remember that time when we went up on the battlements at Highever and we could see the mountains?"
"Yes, I remember that," he replied with a tentative smile. "I remember a lot of things from that time."
Silence fell again and Caroline stared at her desk, lost in thought. He watched her again and felt irritation creeping into him. She was always maudlin after Theirin had paid her a visit.
"Caroline," he began.
"You always used to call me Carrie," she interrupted.
"But nobody calls you that now."
"Nobody did then, either," she answered. "Nobody but you."
Something indefinable flickered in his pale grey eyes, but he otherwise ignored her comment. "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?" he asked.
She sighed in defeat and, as his question sank in, she felt confused. "What do you mean?" she asked with a frown.
He huffed, his deeply-buried frustration suddenly churning in his stomach. "You're always like this when the king has come to visit."
"Oh, I just get worn out with all the preparation, that's all," she replied.
"Come on – it's more than that and you know it," he accused with an edge to his voice he hadn't intended.
She placed her cup down on its saucer and looked at him warily. "What are you getting at?" she asked.
He rolled his eyes and barely suppressed a snort. "Don't you think it's time you stopped moping over him? Because he really doesn't deserve it, you know."
"Moping?" she exclaimed, feeling a flicker of irritation at his presumption. "What makes you think I'm moping over him?"
Angered by her denial, he put his teacup down and shook his head derisively. "Come on, Caroline – you go into a panic when he's due to arrive, then you stick to him like glue, giggling like a love-struck teenager at his pathetic jokes, and then, when he's gone, you shut yourself in your office and mope!"
"What?" she cried in shock. "What the–"
"And considering the way he treated you," Nathaniel continued, his jealousy and anger overriding his common sense, "for you to act like that is undignified, and quite beneath you!"
Her teacup clattered against the saucer, spilling most of its contents, and she pushed her chair back and rose, looking down on Nathaniel. "And just what does any of that have to do with you? If I want to mope, and if I want to be pathetic and undignified, then that is absolutely none of your business! Who do you think you are, coming in here…?"
Nathaniel shot to his feet. "It's not right for you to hanker after a man who treated you so poorly!"
"Oh, and I suppose you treated me so differently?" she asked acerbically, her green eyes cold with fury.
The two of them stood gaping at each other across the desk, both horrified at what they had said, their chests rising and falling rapidly.
"I think we'd better call it a night, before we both say something we'll regret," she said briskly as she moved around the desk and walked toward the office door, intending to show Nathaniel out.
"I don't regret anything I've ever said to you," he said suddenly, his hand snaking out to catch her arm.
"What?" she cried, aghast at his boldness. "You regret nothing you've ever said to me? Did I hear you correctly?" she snapped, tugging her arm from his grip, but he did not release his hold on her. "You don't regret all the little nasty comments? You don't regret trying to humiliate me? You don't regret lying about your intentions toward me?"
"Carrie," Nathaniel began, his deceptively soft tone barely masking his fury.
"Oh, now I'm Carrie, am I?" she said with a strained laugh as her eyes blazed. "How dare you, Nathaniel? How dare you come in here and try to tell me how to behave – how to feel!" she hissed. "You felt me up a few times, promised me marriage, and then I never heard from you again!" she reminded him. "At least the king had the courage to break his promise to my face!"
His eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously behind half-closed lids, and then, without warning, he was upon her, roughly shoving her up against the desk.
"I never lied about my intentions!" he seethed as she struggled to push against his pressing weight.
"Rubbish!" she challenged, raising her chin in defiance. So close were they, she could feel his hot breath against her face. "If fate hadn't put us both here, I never would have seen you again! You're no different than him," she said, referring to Theirin. "So don't try to tell me how I should behave or what I should want!"
Nathaniel grabbed her hands and pushed them behind her back with just enough force not to hurt her, but enough to prevent her from breaking free.
Her eyes widened in panic and anger as she tried to wriggle free. "Let go of me! Who do you think you are?" she panted.
He bent closer to her, so close that their lips nearly touched, and she could almost taste the wine and beef from his evening meal; his eyes, glinting like diamonds, drilled into her with a fierce, almost feral, look. She stopped struggling, paralysed by his intense stare.
"I'll tell you who I am, Carrie," he rasped, pressing himself fully against her. "I'm the man you swore to love, the man you promised yourself to," he growled. "Do not compare me to Theirin again," he warned her.
"Nate, I..." she stammered, hesitating as she noticed his eyes and face soften. Seeming to realise the way he was holding her at last, he immediately released her from his grip.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I would never hurt you, Carrie," he said thickly. "Damn it," he muttered as he stepped back from her. "This isn't why I came in here, I wanted... I wanted to..." he began but did not finish, and looked away from her.
She pushed herself off the desk and reached out for his hand, catching it in her own. "Nate," she said quietly.
He gazed down at her small hand in his and, glancing up, finally meeting her eyes, she saw only uncertainty, and not anger, in his.
He cleared his throat nervously and gently released her hand. "I found something a few days ago, just before the king's visit. I wanted to show you then, but… it wasn't the right time. Will you trust me? Will you let me show you?" he asked humbly.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Just… come with me. Please," he requested as he opened the door and gestured for her to precede him.
She nodded slowly and stepped out of the office. "Where are we going?" she asked.
"To my quarters," he answered as they passed up the corridor, into the main hall.
They made their way to his room in silence, both entertaining their own thoughts. As they arrived outside his door, Nathaniel raised his hand for Caroline to stop.
"Wait here for a moment," he said. "I'll get some light going in there."
He opened the door, and Caroline watched as he took a solitary lit candle that had been placed on his night stand by one of the maids, and used it to light the torches set on the walls. He lit a few more candles, and then beckoned her in.
She'd never been inside his quarters before, and glanced around as she entered and closed the door. A large, immaculately-made four-poster bed dominated the centre of the room; to her right was the fireplace, which Nathaniel crouched next to as he got a fire going. To her left, a small table and two chairs sat next to the window, with an armoire set against the wall. A large trunk was situated at the foot of his bed, atop which lay his bow and quiver, his leather armour and his boots. Several exquisitely-crafted swords and daggers were mounted on the walls. There were, however, no portraits.
"That should do it," Nathaniel said quietly as flames began to lick up the sides of the chimney breast. He rose to his feet and gestured for her to take a seat at the table. "You might want to sit down for this," he advised.
"Nathaniel, what is this about?" she asked as she took a seat at the table. Without answering, he took a key out of his pocket, walked over to the armoire and unlocked it, retrieving a stack of papers. He sighed, turned around and walked back to her, and wordlessly placed the bundle on the table in front of her.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Read them," he instructed softly.
She removed a letter from the top of the pile and squinted to read it by the flickering light of the torch on the wall behind her. "This is… your writing… isn't it?" she asked, holding the letter up to allow more light to fall on it.
Nathaniel watched her closely and waited for her reaction; he didn't have to wait long. Her mouth fell open, and her arm, which held the letter, slowly lowered to the table. She took another letter off the pile, and another, then began frantically leafing through the rest, her hands trembling as she did so.
She stopped and looked up at Nathaniel as he placed a second pile on the table; this time, each letter was written in her hand.
"I-I don't understand," she whispered, glancing back up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I…"
"My father," he said venomously, turning away from her.
"He-he kept our letters?" she asked desperately.
"Intercepted them, opened them, and kept them, yes," he replied, his voice trembling as he stood with his back to her, his arms folded.
"But why would he do that?" she exclaimed, slowly rising to her feet.
He turned around, his arms still folded, and his expression black. "He wanted you to marry Thomas – it's all so clear, now," he said, shaking his head. "Don't you see? He wanted Highever from the start!"
"But that doesn't make any sense! If he'd wanted a marriage between our houses, why do this? We wanted to marry each other!" she exclaimed.
"He knew I wouldn't move against your parents," he reasoned.
"So... so kill everyone at Highever, leaving only Thomas and I?" she whispered, her hand covering her mouth, holding back a moan of anguish.
"Perhaps only Thomas," he said darkly.
"I… I can't believe this," she uttered unsteadily, leaning against the table, feeling a sudden weakness in her legs.
"As my father controlled Thomas, it makes sense," he answered slowly, his hands fisted at his sides. "The signs were all there, but I was too stupid to see them! I could have stopped all of this!"
"No! Nathaniel – it wasn't your fault," she reassured him. "None of this is your doing."
His eyes glinted dangerously as shadows danced across his face. "Of course it was my fault!" he snapped angrily, gesticulating with his arms. "I should have stood up to him! I should have seen him for what he was, instead of wasting my life trying to please him! Maker! I should have killed him when I had the damned chance!"
He turned away from her again, and she saw one of his hands go up to his face. "Nathaniel…" she whispered, placing her hand on his shoulder.
He flinched. "No, don't," he said, taking a step further away from her.
"He fooled everyone, Nathaniel," she said softly. "He had us all convinced of his friendship, of his goodwill. My parents never suspected any of this," she reminded him. "How could you have been expected to? I'm so sorry I ever doubted you," she said sadly.
"Don't be," he replied with a hard edge to his voice. He moved to the fire and squatted down, jabbing the burning logs with the poker. "I came so close once, you know."
"Close to what?" she asked, taking a few steps nearer to him.
"Killing him," he answered, rising up swiftly and moving away from her again. "Not long before he sent me to the Free Marches. Maybe that's why he did it; I think he knew I was close to snapping."
"What happened?" she asked gently, walking around to stand in front of him; he looked at the wall, unable to meet her eyes.
"It doesn't matter," he murmured, hanging his head. "The point is, I had a chance and I didn't take it. If I had, then-then… your family, Carrie… us…"
She grasped his arms and held on firmly to stop him backing away. "That was not your fault!" she insisted.
He broke away from her and stepped closer to the wall, leaning against the mantelpiece. "I don't blame you for taking up with Theirin; at least he knew how to keep you safe," he said heavily. "What could I possibly offer you, now? My family name is ruined, and I'm ruined, Carrie – I'm not capable of feeling anything other than bitterness, hatred and jealousy. I'm no good to you, now."
"I don't believe that," she said, taking a few hesitant steps towards him, noticing him tense as she neared. "And you've got it wrong about the king, Nathaniel. I'm not moping over him. You've misunderstood."
"Yet something else to add to the list of things I've got wrong," he said wearily.
"Nathaniel, you've got to stop this!" she pleaded, positioning herself in front of him. "I won't let you do this – you can't let that bastard win! Listen to me! He did what he could to separate us, but he failed – we still have each other."
A small, derisive laugh escaped his lips. "Each other?" he whispered. "Yes, we have each other – as a Commander and one of her Grey Wardens."
"No, Nate," she whispered, her eyes searching his as she reached up and cradled his face. "When are you going to get it into your head that I love you?"
His face slackened in her hands, and he began to pant softly, blinking rapidly as the enormity of her words slowly sunk in. "You… you…"
"I still love you," she confessed, her eyes shining in the firelight. "I never stopped."
His breathing deepened and his brows knotted together, almost as though he was in pain. Slowly, he lowered his forehead, resting his own against hers.
"I love you, Nate," she repeated softly, coming to her tiptoes to brush her lips against his. His breath quickened and she felt his arms slowly encircle her.
"Carrie, I can't… I… I think you'd better go," he said raggedly. "I don't think I can-"
She felt her heart pounding inside her chest, thrilled that, despite his words, his arms tightened around her. "I'm not leaving, Nathaniel," she said, fixing him with a determined look. "Not now. Not ever…"
Abruptly, her words were silenced as his lips slammed against hers, his arms crushing her hard against him, his exigent, seething ardour a force that could not be disavowed. Feeling the potency and urgency of his arousal, a thrill of exhilaration coursed through her, only heightened by a mild sense of fear: she knew Nathaniel would not be gentle or hesitant, as Alistair had been, and yet her need for him was as primal and fundamental as anything she had ever felt, eclipsing all other needs.
She felt a blistering, searing heat rise in her core as his lips left hers, and he grasped her buttocks, lifting her up onto his pelvis so she straddled him, his hardness biting into her, demanding entrance. Her guttural cry spurred him on, and he hungrily sucked and nipped at her throat while she entangled her hands in his hair, pulling roughly on it as she sought purchase, and he growled against her flesh as he began to move toward the bed, taking her with him.
She screwed her eyes closed and wailed as they reached the bed; by now he was biting her hard, but the pain she felt only inflamed her further, sending waves of heat cascading into her loins, and she began to make frantic, involuntary movements against him with her hips.
He placed one knee onto the bed and, finally releasing her, threw her upon it, and leaned over her, pinning her arms above her head, his other knee sliding between her thighs, parting them.
For a moment, the two of them stared at one another, panting.
"Carrie… I have to have you," he said hoarsely, a bead of sweat slowly meandering its way down his cheek.
"Then take me," she gasped.
He released her arms and, kneeling between her legs, frantically tugged at his shirt and pulled it over his head, carelessly discarding it behind him. Carrie lay limply on the bed, her arms still in the same position Nathaniel had left them in when he had pinned her down, and watched, transfixed, as his huge, calloused hands moved to the lacings of his breeches.
As he deftly worked the lacings, his eyes never leaving hers, she let her gaze wander over his body. He truly was a magnificent sight to behold; she drank in the intoxicating sight of his broad chest and bulky arms, only hinted at before beneath his armour; his alabaster-white skin thrown into sharp relief against the sprinkling of smooth, glossy black hair that covered it. Nathaniel growled under his breath as he watched her eyes travel downwards to the thicket of dark, wiry hair previously hidden by his breeches as he tugged them down, releasing his thick, twitching cock, its foreskin straining to contain the angry purple shaft within, already glistening with pre-ejaculate.
His hands moved to her skirt and he pushed it up to her waist, exposing her long, toned legs. He paused for a second and ran one hand up the length of her left leg, stopping just short of her small clothes. "Lift up," he ordered curtly as his hands moved to her hips, roughly tugging at the waistband. She complied and raised her hips, allowing him to swiftly pull them down her legs, leaving them dangling from one ankle as he grabbed her knees and pushed them apart, a wild and hungry look in his eyes as they lingered on the dark patch of hair between her legs.
"Come to me," he ordered, sitting back on his heels, and he grabbed her hips, pulling her toward him and raising her bottom up onto his thighs. She slid along the bed towards him with a gasp, astonished at his strength, her breath hitching as he grasped his member and placed it at her entrance.
"You're mine, now," he growled and bent over her, grasping her shoulders.
"Take me!" she implored, squirming against the tip of his shaft, moaning with her need for him to enter her.
"Oh!" she cried, her eyes squeezed shut as he fully sheathed himself inside her; shafts of exquisite, searing heat tearing through her as he stretched her to her limit. His eyes widened with concern and then narrowed in focus as he paused for a second, struggling to maintain control, but Carrie's eager response could be felt around his length, driving all conscious thought from his mind and he cried out loud, colours and lights exploding in his mind.
Urgently, and without finesse, his hands moved to the buttons of her shirt, his delirium causing him to fumble, and he growled in frustration, wanting no barrier between him and his love. Buttons flew into the air as he ripped her shirt open and roughly pushed up her breastband, exposing her luscious breasts, tipped with large, rose-coloured nipples.
"Maker, Carrie…" he mumbled, bending over to take one of her sweet buds into his mouth while remaining inside her; Carrie had not known such a feat was possible, and her body shuddered at the thought of being with such an experienced man. Again, her wet core gripped him hard, and she ground herself against him; he gasped and slammed his hand against the bed as he sucked her hard, pulling on her nipple as it hardened in his mouth. Carrie grabbed his hair and pushed herself against him, taking his free hand and clamping it over her other breast. He kneaded it as his tongue flicked over her other bud, blowing, biting, suckling and feasting on her like he was a starved man eating his first meal in days.
His hips twitched involuntarily and he began to move inside her, Carrie meeting him as she pushed her hips forward in perfect sync with his. He removed his mouth from her breast and propped himself up on his hands, his arms at full stretch as he loomed over her, his entire body weight concentrated on her pelvis, crushing her into the bed.
"Nate!" she cried, each powerful thrust of his hips sending his cock pounding, tearing and mauling at her insides, almost painfully. "Kiss me! Please!"
"No!" he bellowed as rivulets of sweat ran down his face. "I want to see you come!"
"Oh! Oh!" She screamed as he hammered into her, and her orgasm, which had been lurking at the periphery for some time, came from nowhere, crashing into her with blistering speed and shattering power. She became detached from reality as her body gave itself over to him, devoid of control or conscious movement, and she shuddered violently, her hands yanking his head back and pulling his hair hard. He bit back a yell, fixedly concentrating on her, committing to memory the sight of her coming for him. Because of him.
He continued at his relentless pace, and Carrie, despite her shattered body's refusal to move, willed her eyes to open, in time to see his gritted teeth and his face contorting as he relinquished all control over himself.
"Agh!" he cried, and his body seized up, his neck cording as he threw his head back, and with every last ounce of his strength put into his final thrust, he poured himself into her as his arms buckled, and he collapsed, groaning, on top of her.
They lay together, unable to move for several moments, as he panted and moaned against her neck. She felt his hips twitch again, and he gasped, then exhaled roughly, his body falling limp once gain. She closed her eyes and stroked his hair and back, allowing his spicy muskiness to fill her, savouring his deliciously masculine scent.
"Maker," he whispered, and propped himself up onto an elbow. "Maker," he repeated, and touched her cheek with a trembling hand. "Are-are you all right?" he asked softly. Still not opening her eyes, she laughed huskily and managed a weary nod.
"I… damn," he muttered, and slowly withdrew himself from her. He sat up and respectfully pulled her blouse closed and pushed her skirt down to cover her legs up. "Carrie, I… did I hurt you?"
She opened her eyes a little and, seeing the anxiety on his face, shook her head, figuring that if she didn't say it, then it wouldn't be a lie. He had left her very sore, but he didn't need to know that.
He moved to the edge of the bed, stood up and laced up his breeches, then sat down on the bed, facing away from her. "Carrie, I-I never meant it to be like that… I've wanted you for so long and I lost control. Can you ever forgive me?" he asked contritely.
"Forgive you?" she asked with a laugh in her voice. "Forgive you for making love to me?"
"That wasn't lovemaking, Carrie, and you know it. You deserved better than that... I-I wanted it to be different with you."
She pushed herself up onto her elbows and grabbed his arm; seeing that she wanted to sit up, he braced his arm and helped her with his other hand. She wriggled to the edge of the bed and sat against him, gently stroking his back as she watched him.
"Nate, we'd both been waiting a long time for this," she reassured him.
"No, not like that," he said quietly, referring to his roughness, his shoulders slumped. "I told you – I'm not capable of expressing love, or tenderness. Only anger."
"That's simply not true," she said, taking his hand.
He shook his head and turned to look at her. "I did hurt you – I must have. I-I'm sorry, Carrie."
"Shhh," she crooned softly, laying her head against his shoulder. "Have you never made love before?" she asked.
He shifted slightly, and sighed. "I have bedded women," he answered slowly. "But, as I've only ever loved one woman, I would have to say no, until tonight, I have never made love," he confessed, tentatively stroking her hand with his thumb. "I treated you disrespectfully, Carrie. I should have been more… restrained."
"Why?" she demanded, defying his remorse. "Don't ever apologise for wanting me, Nate. I will not be ashamed of this," she said firmly. "You've never made love, so how..." she paused thoughtfully, biting her lower lip. "You asked me to trust you earlier, didn't you?" she asked, and he nodded slowly, wondering what she was getting at. "Will you trust me now?"
He watched her for a moment, his embarrassment and confusion still apparent in his posture, but he nodded.
"Come on," she whispered, rising from the bed and holding her hand out to him. "I asked for a bath to be drawn in my quarters before you came to the office – it should be ready, now."
"A bath?" he asked, puzzled.
"A bath," she repeated as she buttoned up her shirt. She held out her hand again, and he took it, standing up and facing her.
"Will you let me look after you?" she asked softly, passing him his shirt.
"I…" he began, and faltered as her loving gaze sent an unfamiliar warm hum along his skin. He pulled on his shirt and took her outstretched hand, nodding silently.
She smiled warmly at him, and led him by the hand out of his quarters, and down the hall to hers, where a freshly-drawn bath awaited them both.