Skyhold's capacity to house fighters was already at its limit, as a result, the Wardens and Highever soldiers occupied encampments outside of Skyhold's gates. The Wardens did not waste time. As soon as their encampment was set, they began to train. Caoilainn glowed as she watched the Wardens practice. Her life revolved around them and they were her reason to live. The order, their pledge- it all sustained her and it showed as she directed them.

That night was sure to be entertaining, as well. Thanks to one particular Warden, her lieutenant, Nathaniel Howe. With tactical precision, as if she were strategizing a stealth mission, she laid out a plan to get Nathaniel to her room unnoticed that night. She had no wish to allow rumors about the Queen's infidelity to spread as the result of an unexpected witness. So long as Nathaniel left her room before dawn, they would be in the clear if her calculations were accurate, which they always were.

The sex with Nathaniel was always aggressive, she could count on it. Their anger toward each other, no- toward the universe, in general- could never be abated; it was merely tamed and utilized for the right context. They were two people, wounded beyond repair, who had found a safe haven for their dark sides with each other. Caoilainn knew that this was why she was not good at being Queen, why she was not good at being a wife. She was broken. Her blood thirst was too strong to be a proper lady and the only thing she imagined might quell it was not an option for her. A baby. Despite that being her main reason for coming here, once the Wardens joined, and Nathaniel with them, her urgency significantly decreased. Her attention had instinctively shifted back to commanding and Nathaniel was sordid reprieve.

In the middle of the night, Nathaniel knocked lightly on her door.

He heard a soft 'come in' from inside Caoilainn's room, giving him permission to enter. The room was dark, lit only by a single candle. If only out of habit, Nathaniel scanned the room quickly to assess the situation and calculate risks. Her bed was unmade and she was sitting on it, wearing only a loose fitting, ornate silk robe.

Nathaniel stopped in the doorway to observe the beautiful, strong-willed woman who was waiting for him. This woman should not be allowed to him for a number of reasons. Not only was she his Commander, she was also eight years younger, and the little sister of his childhood friend. Furthermore, Caoilainn's husband, who happened to be the King, was notably younger, tanner, blonder, and generally more attractive than himself. Nathaniel's roughness was not necessarily pleasing to the eye of many women. But he was certain that his roughness was exactly why Caoilainn was drawn to him. These things, in addition to the overall clandestineness of their relationship fueled his ego.
"Close the door, old man," Caoilainn teased with a vicious tone.

Nathaniel frowned for a moment, but it turned into a grin. He knew she was testing him. He obeyed her order and closed the door. With an eyebrow raised, he walked toward her challengingly. "I'll make you pay for that, Commander."

Caoilainn laughed condescendingly. It was melodious. The sound made Nathaniel's blood boil and his bulge stir as he predicted her arrogant laughter changing to beautiful, begging moans with his influence.

"Nate, you know that I'm the one who will determine punishments. That is, after your report, of course." Her arrogance continued.

"Oh, I'll give it to you," he assured as he made his way to the bed. Slow, silent steps brought him closer until his hands met her shoulders with pressure. He pushed Caoilainn to her back and spread her legs wide with his hands in a quick sequence.

The cloth of her robe fell to her sides, exposing her pale, lean body as he pulled her to the edge. Caoilainn's full, plump breasts naturally spread, widened with the effects of gravity. For a few long seconds, Nathaniel savored the way she looked, naked and vulnerable; lines of the well-trained muscles through her skin were evidence of her ability to resist and that dared him to pursue. He did not linger, only because he knew that if he waited too long she could take away this opportunity. Getting it back would be joined with snarky insults to his age and subservience beneath her. He did not wish to give her that pleasure.

So he slithered on top of her with a wicked grin. Overpowered, pinned to the bed, she could not move, just as he intended. Nathaniel was a skilled scout; a fighter accustomed to debilitating enemies when they were too close to shoot with an arrow. This was something he was trained to do. His hand spread around Caoilainn's delicate, fragile neck, caressing her smooth, fair skin. Then his fingers wrapped around and tightened with such skill and finesse that her breathing was restricted, but not prevented. She gave him a snarling smile. It was lovely. This was her bliss and he was delighted to give it to her. Nathaniel was glad to hold her source of life, literally in the palm of his hand.

His other slid between her legs. Separating lips to stroke the wet heat that he was sure to find. His expectations were correct. She made a whimpering growl as he teased her. With a quick inhale, she took advantage of his shift of weight and wrapped her legs around his arm, then twisted. Nathaniel laughed vindictively as Caoilainn used the force of her legs to push her off of him. She sat back up on the bed as he knelt on the ground before her. Right where he should be, Caoilainn thought. Beneath her. The whiteness of her teeth emphasized her sharp canines as she grinned sinfully. She was a lioness ready to take her kill. But not before she tortured him.

"Eat me," she ordered.

"...Yes, ma'am," he growled as he edged closer to the bed on his knees. Then he licked his plump lower lip before dragging his teeth over it with a smirk. Caoilainn directed his head down, between her legs. She laid down once he started and her hands raked through his hair; her nails clawed at his scalp.

Though she might like to think so, this was not a punishment. Nathaniel loved the taste of women, Caoilainn in particular. He eagerly lapped, licked, nipped and sucked on different parts of her swollen, slick, pink flesh. The sounds of her indignant moans and panting made him harder. Nathaniel enjoyed the control gained with his head between her legs; power claimed by giving pleasure.

Caoilainn's back arched as he continued. Her hips rocking forward to his mouth, providing him with ample space for his tongue to reach wherever it wanted. With the attention of his tongue: smooth, precise, and persistent as it was on the bundle of nerves, he brought a hand between her legs and entered her fleshy, pink core with one finger. He curled it inside of her, pushing upward, knowing that her elevated moans and curses of pleasure would occur like clock work.

"Fuck!" she rasped. "Maker's breath." Caoilainn gripped at his hair tighter. Her nails, like talons on Nathaniel's skull. Her climax was sudden and powerful. Her back lifted off the bed as it arched. Nathaniel grasped her by her open legs, glancing up from his station, entertained by her waves of ecstasy all at the whim of his talented tongue.

Caoilainn came down. Her body jerked and she closed her legs to him, ushering him away non-verbally.

"That sounded sufficient," he stated, wiping his mouth in the back of his hand. It was not a question. Nathaniel rose from the ground to look down at her on the bed.

She looked up seductively, then spread her legs wide to invite him back. "I suppose," she whispered lowly. "But you've given better."

Nathaniel laughed, fully aware that this woman was pushing him. Without response to her derision, he took off his clothes, only breaking their intense game of eye contact when it was required. It was a staring contest, a challenge to see who would submit first. Neither did.

Until he stood in the nude, glaring down at her with his length erect, angrily waiting. Caoilainn's eyes narrowed in anticipation for his next move; his next attempt to overthrow her reign of this interaction. This part of their game was a wrestling match like skilled combat. Who could immobilize the other with pleasure first?

Swiftly, he stepped in between her legs and slid her forward to provide him with leverage on the bed. Then he pushed one of her legs back to her chest, again pinning her down. He did this quickly, in an attempt to give her as little time as possible to overthrow him. Her other leg wrapped around his waist and he entered her. It felt exquisite. She was tight and full, smooth and slick. He grunted as he thrust hard. His thrusts were echoed with Caoilainn's ragged gasps, and she exhaled in an aggressive moan. Nathaniel stared at her seriously, challenging her to succumb to the ecstasy that he was giving, forcefully, over and over. Caoilainn did not blink.

Instead, she snarled. In a quick movement, she used her own leverage and her free leg to push him off and pin him down on the bed. She was on top. Her nails dragged against his chest and he let out a shiver, which trailed off into another condescending laugh. He was trying to hide his reaction. Caoilainn gave him little time to do so before she directed his shaft back inside of her. She sank onto it, allowing it to fill her entirely.

Nathaniel groaned, unable to resist the urge to close his eyes as he felt her from the inside. He was losing this game. In desperation, he grabbed at her hips tightly, searching for mental balance as she rocked on top of him. Damn it, he cursed himself. Fuck, she's good . Caoilainn rolled her hips over and over, angling his shaft inside her in the perfect ways so that she felt him, hard against her most sensitive places. His hips bucked up to meet hers involuntarily and he groaned roughly as he felt the splintering impact of his own climax. He thrust up, hard. His hands pulling her hips down on him with force.

"Caoi…" he started to say her name through his moan. Quickly and forcefully, she put a hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his moan.

As he pulsed inside of her, she reached another climax. Her body froze; she did not make a sound. Then she gasped and panted loudly, releasing in a whimper. She kept her hand in its place over his mouth until she was done.

Caoilainn dismounted as gracefully as ever and laid down next to him. One of their agreements to this relationship, or rather, one of her rules, was that they not use each others names in the act. He had broken one of the rules tonight and he was not sure how Caoilainn would respond.

They did not speak of it. Instead, she fell asleep on the bed without so much as a goodnight to him. Perhaps presumptively, Nathaniel chose to believe that Caoilainn's lack of scolding was because she understood his predicament. Or perhaps, his performance made up for the slip-up. Either way, he was satisfied.

Early the next morning, Caoilainn nudged Nathaniel to wake him well before dawn. When he did not rise easily, she pushed him off the bed less than carefully and hissed, "Nate, hurry up!" Nathaniel dressed quickly and stopped by the bed to kiss her before leaving. It was sweet at first, which was unexpected. They did not usually do such affectionate things like kiss each other. That was until he bit her lip scornfully, punishment for making him rise so early. He pulled away with a malicious grin.

Once he left the room, she laid back down on the bed with her hands over her face. Despite the amazing fuck that Nate was, she knew that they were being too risky. Or rather, she was being too risky, as she was the Commander. There were far too many potential onlookers in Skyhold who could see the smallest thing and come up with a number of complicated conclusions. She cursed herself for her weakness, but her body was still humming from the night before.

After washing up at the sink in the room and dressing, she departed out to the yard before the Wardens woke. Then she heard it: the distant thrumming of a large military body. The Highever soldiers were collecting in the yard, awake, fed and ready to train. She watched them milling about as they looked in the distance for the additional troops on their way. Many of the Highever soldiers had served in Ferelden's army, and vise versa. The Highever soldiers were likely excited to see old friends and to show support for their kingdom.

Highever, represented by green laurels on blue, the colors of the sea- the sigil appeared redundantly on the soldier's clothing, shields and tents. It was the symbol for Caoilainn's family. 'Second only to the King,' their house words. In fact, some called the Cousland's the Kings of the North. Their supportive ties to King Maric before his disappearance, holding the position of teyrn and most importantly, the ridiculous amount of money in their bank had made the Cousland's quite notable.

Caoilainn observed the troops in the distance with a rising anxiety. A knot began to tighten in her stomach. Something did not feel right about the Ferelden troop's arrival and she could not identify the source.

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