A/N: Only one more chapter left for this arc! Yay!
Warning: Smut at the end. Mystery pairing involved (still slash, so if this offends you, you probably shouldn't be reading this in the first place. :D)
Chapter 11: A Crown of Swords
Dawn broke out over the settlement, peeking over the various tents that had been setup the day before. Its light awakened the camp's inhabitants but there were some who were up before the sun's appearance. Horses nickered to each other in their stables and the more impatient ones pawed the ground with the front hoof, hoping that it would get their masters' attentions. It had worked, as always, for a couple of stableboys, junior squires to the more advanced knights and their subsequent assistants, came by with pails of fresh oat. One boy in particular snuck in a small bag of special treats for a young Brecilian horse, a rare breed nowadays. He palmed the treats in his hand and giggled when furry lips traveled along the palm, a tongue searching for the cube of sugar. The horse made a satisfied sound and the junior squire petted the muzzle gently, letting the horse smell him. Knowing that he couldn't dawdle with handling one horse, he rubbed the horse's nose and gave it one last treat before quickly moving unto his next responsibility. Horses were finicky creatures and the boy knew that playing favoritism would prove dire on the field. Thus, his next responsibilities were also given treats and the same loving attention as well.
Meanwhile, outside of the stables, men were waking up, disgruntled moans and groans drifting through the tournament. There were occasional curses of frustration, especially when a squire was too stupid to obey orders. However, the cursing was kept to a minimum, thanks to the presence of the men's sovereign as well as the Chantry's sisters, who were there to help feed the men and organize the events.
When the sun had risen halfway between the horizon and its apex, there was a large crowd of people massing around the King and his entourage of a wife and close advisors. The King rose up and all of his subjects knelt in submission to his authority, except for the Revered Mother and her sisters.
"In honour of my father, our King Maric, we hold this Tournament in remembrance of him. May the best men win!"
Hollers of cheers deafened the area and Queen Anora's sensitive ears. Goblets were raised high in the air and the liquids consequently drunk.
-o0o-
A tall man was watching a pair of combatants fighting in one of the rings, his eyes scrutinizing the movements of one of them that spoke of high skill and grace. The spectator had come here not only to watch, but also to make observations, to see if any of these men would be potential recruits. His younger companion, who stood quietly beside him, was too busy eating a very expensive Antivan cheese to notice anything spectacular about the combatants. However, even he was drawn to the young man fighting against a much larger opponent in the first round of close quarter combat, dubbed as CQC by the King's Military Force.
When the match ended with the young man as the winner of the round, the taller of the watching pair looked to his companion and silently communicated with him. The blonde man made a sound of displeasure before stuffing his mouth with the cheese and swallowing it down with sweet Arrebeen juice. He turned around and left the spectator's stand, heading towards the direction of the stables and to the smaller compound behind it, where his other friends were.
The taller spectator's eyes kept watch on the ever diminishing back of his friend before reverting back to their original view, where they saw the two men bow respectfully to the King and then leave the circle. He was pleased to see the pair shake hands and made a note that the winner had good sportsmanship, a rare trait nowadays especially among nobles. Pride ran hot in their veins and losing a match was akin to losing fortune with money. Worse so was winning a match, where the winner's haughty character would prompt vicious resentment from the loser. His eyes lingered on the young King and his new queen, noticing the false cover the King was utilizing. It was a shame that his father had died and on Maric's deathbed, Duncan had sworn that he would protect his son, both from the world and from himself. The grief of having lost a father was cleverly disguised in the fair face, one that reminded Duncan too strongly of the deceased King. A normal man from where he stood would have not been capable in seeing how the strong jaw would clench in silent frustration with his wife's complaints. He would have not seen how the blue eyes had that slight wet look to them, as if the man had been crying all night in his sleep and had just now wiped the tears away, right before the commencement of the tournament. He would certainly not have been able to see that the young King wore a necklace, in which Duncan knew it to be an heirloom bequeathed to him by his father before his passing. However, Duncan was not a normal man, at least not anymore.
"A Warden!" Someone said nearby, in a very hushed tone. The man's gaze flickered to the owner of that voice and the poor man started to stammer, ashamed that he had been caught staring at Duncan.
"Yes," Duncan replied gently to the stammering man but making no move against him. "Is there something you need?"
The man shook his head fervently and he made to scramble away, only to rudely collide with another spectator.
"Hey! Watch where yer goin'!"
"Sorry! V-v-very sorry!"
An eyebrow raised in confusion at the sight of the man and Duncan inwardly sighed. Although King Maric had liberated Ferelden from its Orlesian occupants and permitted the Grey Wardens back into the country, there were still raw feelings about the Wardens. Every noble and peasant household knew of Commander Sophia Dryden's exile from Ferelden two hundred years before King Maric's edict. Worst of all, they felt justified in having her condemned to a permanent exile from Ferelden. King Arland was in truth a tyrannical man and Sophia, being a natural leader and one who couldn't stand the actions of immoral men, rebelled against the King. In truth, she and her company of Wardens held out against King Arland's large militia for months before finally succumbing. The details of the siege were murky at best though and were it not for a request of a good friend, Duncan would not have known that Soldier's Keep was still standing, seemingly intact and unaffected by the passage of time. The man's shout of 'Warden' prompted other men to gaze upon him, the majority of them being filled with ultimate fear and respect.
"What's a Warden doing here?"
"Mind yer eyes, luv!"
"Don't point, son! That's rude!"
"Does that mean darkspawn are here?"
Whispers rippled through the crowd and Duncan knew that it would have been better to hope that the Blight wasn't here than for people murmuring their dissent and their awe of the Order.
Feeling his indignation at being the centre of attention, the murmur suddenly quieted and trumpet horns blew loudly, indicating that another match was about to begin. The people were now more interested in the immediate event than the presence of a Warden. Wondering why his friend was taking so long in retrieving that document, Duncan opted to leave the stands, having already appeased his curiosity of the two men.
-o0o-
Laughter erupted from the interior of the compound and the approaching Warden smiled. He raised a flap and his smiled turned into a boyish grin. There, sitting at the table, were two Wardens involved in an arm wrestle. Grigoir sat on the left, his arm consisting of bulging muscles that just grew bigger and bigger until he slammed his opponent's lanky arm on the wooden table.
"I win," he shouted, his accent thick and of Orlesian descent, "now you have to buy drinks on the house,"
"What! I said I would buy drinks for both of us, not for these miserable lot!" The other man whined, but his eyes twinkled in good-natured cheer. He received a cuff on the head for his comment by another man, this one well built and broad-shouldered. "Oy! What'd you do that for!"
Grigoir's head threw back and a throaty laugh was emitted from the burly man. "That's if you had won, my friend!"
"Fine, fine," the other man groused and he stood up to leave, grumbling that the Maker himself should have given him a gift to read minds than a weak arm. "Alistair, you try arm wrestling with him!"
"No, thanks, you seem to be doing well enough on your own," Alistair shook his head in disagreement, "besides, Duncan wants me to retrieve something."
"Honestly, I don't know why Duncan is even here. Twelve of us should be enough to take on some darkspawn and an Archdemon," the man said, brushing past by his younger counterpart. "It only took one to slay Andoral!"
"That's cuz he was a cursed elf!" Grigoir shouted at the departing man, the others still laughing at the skinny man's loss. "Alistair, care to join me?"
"No, no, absolutely not! I like my purse having some weight today," Alistair laughed as Grigoir continued to insist and then managed to find another unfortunate victim, this one being the broad-shouldered man who had cuffed the previous loser. Duncan was going to meet with the King and he needed some documents. He walked past by the two men, their muscles in the arms straining profusely, and knelt by a chest that was stowed away in the back corner, by Duncan's bedroll. It was unlocked and it did not surprise Alistair like it should. The Wardens were all brothers; if they trusted each other with their lives, then possessions were of minimal concern. He searched through Duncan's items and found the documents to be on the bottom of the chest, underneath his shield. His Commander of the Grey rarely equipped the shield as he leaned more towards the dual-weapons training. It was still nice enough to look at though, with the insignia of a gryphon rearing on its hind legs. Another sound of a trumpet horn helped him focus on what he was supposed to be doing and he gathered the documents in his hand. The lid was closed shut and, on his way out, Alistair noticed that the broad-shouldered man also lost and was busy muttering on how he was going to kill Gregoir in his sleep.
"Oh shut it, you bitch. You know you lost!"
Another round of raucous laughter could be heard and Alistair truly took this as a good omen from the Maker, if He could forgive the whole lot of Wardens being drunk on their arses first.
-o0o-
"Your Majesty, some more mulled wine?" A timid voice asked the King and he nodded, watching the elven servant pour him some more in the goblet. Queen Anora, bless her heart, was apparently bored with the whole event, despite her efforts in not showing it. She also wore her best clothes, something King Cailan had advised against. She replied in an acerbic tone to him, saying that the men needed their queen to be beautiful beacon, something to draw inspiration from. He scoffed at her response, knowing that she was deliberately twisting his words. He was the fanciful one here, not her. He personally did not want her there, but Loghain had suggested that not bringing her with him to every major event would cause rumors to spread among the populace, rumors that could sow seeds of rebellion. Poor Loghain. He was always fretting over stupid conspiracy theories about the Orlesians and the possible reasons why the Wardens were here.
Yes, their presence clearly hadn't gone unnoticed. Loghain was the first to spot Duncan's tall figure that was snooping around the crowds and their Wardens crowding the tavern areas, causing many purses to lighten. There probably would have been some head-busting were it not for Duncan casually watching the scenes from the sidelines. Despite their rowdiness, they always ensured to not take it too far, more out of fear of punishment from Duncan rather than the King or even Loghain.
Loghain himself was heading the actual tournament. Cailan knew it to be a lost cause for him to lead it, especially since Loghain left no room for the young King to recommend him heading the actual event, not sitting at the table and trying not to look bored. Queen Anora shuffled beside him but he ignored her. He didn't know what had come over when he agreed to marry Anora Mac Tir, but it was his father's wish to see him marry off to a beautiful woman. Just like it was his father's wish to break things off with a certain someone, a someone who is apparently here as a participant. Damned honor!
"Cailan, dear," Anora began to say, her body struggling to get comfortable in the hard, wooden chair. He couldn't help but smirk at her discomfort. Any man would be just fine, just fine.
"Yes," Cailan replied in a monotonous tone, trying very hard not to sound annoyed by her future complaint.
"These cursed chairs," Anora said predictably, "I wish Father had procured more comfortable ones for us!"
"At least you have chairs," Cailan grumbled, "most of the participants and spectators have to stand."
Only nobles were provided chairs and those who weren't, well, they either had to stand or sit and fear being trampled on the hard ground. Anora's eyes sharpened into cold steel at the grumbled remark from her blonde husband, but Cailan wasn't fazed at all by her cold glare. He experienced it too many times as a child to be affected by it.
"Be that as it may," Anora continued and she looked at the second round of men fighting each other. "I still want a more comfortable chair. Perhaps father will find one for me instead of my useless husband." She stood up rather hastily, causing the chair to be knocked back a few inches than necessary. Picking up her skirts, she left the gondola, followed only by her faithful servant.
Unfortunately for her, Loghain was too busy to attend to Anora's request, waving off her complaint with a gesture of his hand all at the same time barking orders to the busboys and squires.
"No! You imbecile!" He shouted hoarsely at a stumbling, wide-eyed brunette. "Put it there!"
His finger pointed to the left hand side of another field, this one filled with stands that had bull's eye markings burned into them. The brunette hastily placed the stand closer to its neighbor, further away from the edge of the field. Loghain did not want any arrows to go astray and strike an unfortunate fool. The complaints and paperwork would be endless if a noble was stuck with an arrow due to an incompetent squire.
"Anora, please, there are many things to be done here before the day reaches the sun reaches its zenith,"
"But father, I can't enjoy this wondrous spectacle if I am experiencing some discomfort," Anora's eyes battered coyly at him and usually her father would consider such requests. However, today was clearly not the day.
" Anora, you must give me some room to work. The lads are too smitten with you here and there won't be any work done. If that's the case, the tournament will linger on far longer than it's supposed to be and you will have no one to blame but yourself."
Her face almost grew flustered at her father's refusal to help her but she wouldn't risk losing face in front of an improper lot of peasants. She held her head high and her shoulders reared back to give her a more confident posture. Loghain sighed heavily when she turned around in a stiff manner before kicking a squire on the ass for staring at his daughter so. The sun hadn't even reached the third hour of the day and Loghain was already given grief from his daughter. It's going to be a very long day.
-o0o-
Both Hadrian and Fergus won the rounds required to advance to the semifinals. There were four different age divisions: 18-22, 23-30, 30-35, and 36-45. Besides the age divisions, the tournament had three various types of combat the participant could join in. The most popular and crowded one was of course, the close quarter combat, where the participant could equip one of the following: sword and shield, a two-handed weapon, or dual weapons. Another popular division was the archery and last but certainly not lacking in the number of spectators was the empty-handed combat. Any aspiring noble, for they were only ones who could afford such entry fees of 50 sovereigns per person, who wanted to be champion had to win the highest number of points and be in every division available to their age. The first place garnered 9 points while second place and third place were 7 and 5 points respectively. These points were set across all divisions, regardless of the effort involved.
Since Hadrian was an exception, being almost eighteen summers, he was placed in the 18-22 division and thus, no mercy was quartered to him. Actually, most of the lads were quite curious about the youngest newcomer and in the first rounds, his partners were very lenient on him, not wanting to hurt the Cousland so much that the experience would scare him away for the next time the Tournament came around. Much to their chagrin though, Hadrian had proven himself valiantly and in the matches, he fought with everything he had, giving no leeway for his opponent to strike back. Seeing as how the Cousland was so focused, his peers decided to up a notch and in the second bout of rounds, Hadrian was given more of a challenge. His toughest opponent was someone from Redcliffe, a young man named Maverick, who excelled at two-handed swords. Hadrian had almost lost the battle to the bigger man, being only slight of built himself, but luck appeared to be on his side when Maverick's feet tripped beneath him and allowing Hadrian to duck underneath a clumsy blow and strike Jory firmly in the chest with the whitewood sword. The only live blades allowed at the Tournament were the arrowheads used in the Archery Division since the arrowheads had to be strong enough to pierce the tough exterior of the stands. Also, it wouldn't do to have a sore loser assassinate the winner in his bed after a bad match.
He and his family had returned from Redcliffe a month ago. Hadrian, however, did not remember seeing his rival before. Perhaps he was out of the country for a while. He had just left the field when a familiar person approached him, clapping him heavily on the back.
"Hey! Well done out there!"
Hadrian's lips broke out into a shit-eating grin when he saw that it was Teagan Guerrin. No one could mistake that shockingly red hair anywhere.
"Thanks, though he almost had me," Hadrian and Teagan vigorously shook hands.
"You alone here? Where are your brother and sister-in-law?"
"Isolde is at home. She didn't want to abandon the castle to what she calls elven idiots. My brother is somewhere in this messy lot," Teagan's eyebrows furrowed in deep thought and Hadrian was just about to prod him on when the elder lad's face beamed happily down at him.
"I managed to get Connor out though. Just don't tell Isolde that though! She would flay my skin!"
Hadrian burst out laughing at Teagan's head swiveling around, eyes on the lookout for the tall woman who would give even Anora a run for her money with her sharp tongue and judgmental ways. The pair had caught the attention of the elder Cousland brother, who was waving to someone else while walking towards them.
"Fergus! Who are you waving to? Eh?" Teagan jested, trying to see if he could spot a particular lady who had caught the elder brother's heart.
"Oriana."
"Oh Maker's ass!" Teagan cursed. Both Couslands stared at each other in confusion. What could possibly make their friend curse so loudly? Then an idea dawned on them and they both snickered at how much trouble Teagan was going to be in.
"Let me guess," the youngest brother started to say, in between snickers, "If Oriana is here, then Isolde is here too."
"Yes," was a grumbled reply and Hadrian shook his head at the dejected look on his friend's face.
"Come, my friend," Hadrian pulled on Teagan's arm, gearing him towards a drinking tent that had been erected several feet away from the CQC grounds. "Let's get you something to drink so that you would be too out of it to feel Isolde's bites."
Fergus couldn't help but laugh at the redhead being towed by a slenderer boy. Yes, today was a good day and hopefully Oriana would accompany him to his home later on.
-o0o-
Luckily, the afternoon had passed uneventfully for its participants and spectators. A quiet lull had taken over when the sun reached the sixth hour of the evening. The King decided to have everyone take a break and prepare for the finals, which were to take place within the hour. Loghain himself was head judge of the finals for CQC and he was very, very surprised to see Bryce's youngest son warming himself up for the final match. His opponent was Ser Jory, a young Knight of Redcliffe Castle. He was even more surprised to see a brief glance of recognition on the King's face before it was replaced by a neutral façade. Had Cailan seen this young man before? And why did the young man have silver hair? It was very odd seeing that colour on a young man.
"Loghain, let's proceed with the match so that we may finish before day breaks." Cailan's succinct command caused his advisor to quirk an eyebrow in concern but he pushed it off nonetheless. Perhaps Cailan was tense in having met with the Grey Warden that had come by earlier this afternoon. It was too bad that Howe wasn't here to oversee that particular conversation, but he left his informant with the King's Advisor. Unfortunately, the conversation was buffed with a soundproof spell and by the time Howe's spy managed to get a mage to undo the spell, Cailan and Duncan were no longer there. They had walked somewhere else, as if they knew that they were being spied upon. Loghain had a sneaky suspicion that Cailan was up to something and he had to find out what it was before the boy could ruin his plans.
His brown eyes darkened at the thought that Cailan could be involved with the Orlesians; it wouldn't be the first time Cailan had tried to seek peace and communication with Empress Celene I of Orlais. However, the first time Cailan openly suggested it to Loghain was also the last time. Cailan was not a tactful man, despite having a crash course in court politics and foreign diplomacy. He was straightforward and a daydreamer at the same time. It was no wonder that Maric had run off to the Deep Roads when Cailan was just but a boy.
"Ladies and Gentleman," Loghain cried out, his voice carrying out even to the stands furthest to the back. "The moment we've been waiting for,"
His hands gestured to the two men who stood across from one another, their weapons at the ready.
"On the left side," Loghain's hand pointed in the direction of the man who had his Greatsword out and at the ready, "we have the Knight of Redcliffe, one of Sir Eamon's Knights!"
Roots and roars of the Knight's name could be heard throughout the arena but the Knight paid no attention to them, setting his focus on the young man standing in front of him.
"On our right side," Loghain directed the audience's attention to the young Cousland, "is Bryce Cousland's youngest son, the youngest participant since the days of King Calenhad!"
There were even louder shouts and yells of the Cousland's name, some coming from several of Sir Eamon's Knights. Again, Hadrian gave no sign of heeding his support but Fergus, his brother, and Bann Teagan knew that he was grateful for it. His parents, Bryce and Eleanor, politely cheered for their son from the King's Compound, where they sat with the other high nobility. Inwardly, Bryce wanted to shout out his son's name but propriety dictated his response to be mellow. He will congratulate his son in private, regardless of whether he would win or lose.
"This major event is the one we've all been waiting for! Whoever wins will earn the most coveted possession from the King himself! A Crown of Swords! The best set of armor crafted by the King's own quartermaster and endowed with magical runes that would earn the envy of even a Tevinter Magister himself. May the best man win!"
A bell gonged nearby, indicating the start of the match. The two men circled each other, sizing each other up and trying to determine the opponent's strength. Ser Jory saw how fluid his opponent was and the way he carried those weapons with confidence. He would have a hard time in winning and bringing home much needed sovereigns for his wife and future child. He had to win! He lunged forward, using a sword strike as a feint while bringing his shield to bash into his opponent's guard. It would have worked against an amateur but Hadrian was more experienced than that and he was slightly insulted that Ser Jory would make a move like that. He merely stepped out of the shield's path, parrying the sword thrust at the same time as bringing his own to thrust against an unguarded part of the Redcliffe Knight's torso.
There was a soft grunt as the sword came into contact and Ser Jory stumbled backwards, taken aback by the surprise manuveur. Hadrian didn't back off like Jory expected him too and he pressed his advantage against the stumbling Knight. Jory managed to block an incoming lunge from a sword and twisted his body around to avoid being bashed in the face with Hadrian's shield that just suddenly appeared in front of him. How was this guy so fast? It was as if Hadrian had a sixth-sense or something like that.
He dodged another blow only to run into the shield again, the cold metal biting sharply against his cheek. Stars appeared before him and when they cleared, he found himself staring at the clear blue sky, wondering how in the Fade he came to be there. Then a blurred figure swam into his field of vision, his weapon pointed right between his eyes.
"Yield," Hadrian almost growled at the downed man, his sword unwavering from his position, as if he didn't trust Ser Jory to pull off a sneaky move like throwing sand in his face.
"I-I-I yield!" Ser Jory's voice barely trembled; he didn't want the crowd to think him a coward. At first no one had said anything to proclaim the end of the match, not even Loghain himself. The King's advisor was stunned to see how quickly the match had ended and his eyes narrowed at the tall figure standing over the loser. Apparently, Bryce had trained his boy well. That will be a problem.
"And we have a winner!" Loghain shouted. His shout seemed to bring the life back to the crowd, who roared and cheered.
Ser Jory couldn't believe it. He wasn't able to win this tournament and his family was going to pay for it. He waited for Hadrian to put up his sword and his opponent surprisingly offered a hand to him. He wasn't expecting that. He took the offered hand and almost stumbled into the man, the strength of the hand almost crushing his own.
"Sorry about that," Hadrian apologized to him, steadying him with a firm grip on the shoulders. "I was really tired and wanted it to end quickly."
The statement sounded awfully haughty and prideful, but Ser Jory's eyes couldn't find any such emotion in the young man's eyes. He found them to be frank and devoid of any such selfish emotion. This was one strange man and Jory had a sickening feeling that Hadrian was going easy on him. The Redcliffe Knight merely nodded in agreement and both men bowed before each other, honoring the end of the match, before finally bowing to their sovereign.
King Cailan rose up from his seat, clearly wanting to proclaim the winner and continue on with the day. He prompted the both of them to come forward and already had the winner's prize in his hands.
He knelt before the King, trying not to let his eyes stray up his former lover.
"Rise up, Grand Champion, and accept this gift!"
Hadrian rose up and the King stepped forward, a pleased expression on his handsome face. In his hands was the promised prize, an impressive set of dragonbone armor. Hadrian accepted the gift with outstretched hands and the King stood back. Rounds of applause, accompanied by hoarse shouts, suddenly burst out, deafening the King's Compound. Sharp whistles pierced the area and after Hadrian bowed a final time to King Cailan and Queen Anora, he backed out with as much grace as he could muster without falling flat on his face. As soon as he did so, bodies slammed into him, arms hugging him and voices called out his name.
"Hadrian! You did it!"
"Well done, little brother!"
"That was a close one though!"
The King had moved on from his affair with Hadrian, however, he couldn't help but feel some resentment and jealousy as he watched the boy being praised by the audiences. He briefly wondered what could have happened if he decided to go against his father's wishes, that perhaps Hadrian would be standing at his side instead of a cold woman who was a better door stopper than a wife.
He continued to watch the people congratulate the winner. The young Cousland bowed down to him one final time before walking towards the tavern, taking the crowd with him; he had a feeling that the tavern would need some major cleaning before they leave. His sharp eyes then noticed that amongst the crowd were the Grey Warden, Duncan, and his company of men. They were mostly humans, but he could easily see that the short, stumpy one had to be a dwarf. No human could be four feet tall and that hairy too. An elven mage was weaving skillfully around the large mass that was migrating towards the Tavern, but from his armor, Cailan knew that he too was a Grey Warden.
Seeing the company, he suddenly remembered a very interesting conversation between the Commander of the Grey and him from yesterday afternoon. It happened in that brief lull between semifinals and finals, where the men were more preoccupied with either winning the finals if they passed the previous ones or packing up for the night. Anora had gone to her private tent with her Orlesian elf servant and some moments after her departure, he saw a familiar person striding towards him. Cailan had an elephant memory and he recalled that this was the same person his father had introduced him to a decade ago, right after the Deep Roads incident.
Memory
"Duncan!" King Cailan exclaimed at the approaching Grey Warden. He had grown taller over the past ten years and he aged well. He remembered what the Warden was like when he was but a boy. His fathr had just returned from a Deep Roads Expedition and when he appeared at Fort Drakon, in Denerim, he wasn't alone. It was strange to see a human in the company of elves and dwarves. Elves were hated while the Dwarves, while neither feared or hated, were still resentful for the loss of their Thaigs and blamed everyone for it, including humans. The female elf gave him a knowing look, her hand hovering protectively over her belly. The dwarf was clad in heavy dwarven armour, crafted from lyrium-infused dragonbone, the strongest of all crafting materials. Duncan bore the forefront of the group, following behind his father as they entered the main hallway. His father had picked him up in his arms, eyes twinkling with fearsome joy. Before, his father had almost resented him, ignoring his attentions and seeking out dangerous adventures, such as hunting down dragos or at least the rumours of them. It gave Loghain much grief in trying to handle a despondent King who was still mourning the loss of his Queen Rowan.
Now, though, his father hugged him tightly, feathering kisses on his cheeks, tickling the poor smothered boy with his neatly trimmed beard.
"Duncan, this boy here," Maric gently placed his son on the ground, a hand on Cailan's back to steady him as Cailan attempted to stay on his own two feet, "is my son."
"The nice lady there is young Fiona," Cailan's green eyes followed his father's finger, liking the beautiful colours of the lady's garbs and the almost motherly look on her face. "And this is Grigoir."
The dwarf's upper torso bowed slightly forward, but otherwise made no movements.
"Hello…" Cailan said tentatively, his voice still high-pitched and boyish.
"Good evening, your highness," Duncan's voice rumbled gently, a strong hand taking Cailan's small one in his. " how do you fare?"
Beginning of Flashback
Now, twelve years later, Duncan bore the cores of the world and King Cailan was astonished to see how much Duncan had changed. No longer the tall, lanky almost twenty something year old of the past, Duncan had filled out quite nicely. His limbs were slender but toned while his face was framed by a strong, angular jaw. Cailan's eyes saw no visible scars on the man's body, but when he stared briefly into the man's eyes, he could see that some scars didn't have to be visible and his heart reached out for him. What could have happened that had changed the man so much?
"Your majesty," Duncan bowed his head in deference to his sovereign.
"Please, Duncan," the young King said in an exasperated tone, "you have always been welcomed in our family. Father spoke much of you in my childhood, how the Grey Wardens fought with the King of Ferelden to wrest freedom from the Orlesian occupants."
King Cailan had his back turned to the Grey Warden, exposing his vulnerable backside and thus trusting his visitor not to exploit it. Assassinations were few and in between, thanks to the memory of King Maric and his exploits, but Cailan still should have been more careful. That was the thought in the Warden's mind.
"I have urgent news, your majesty."
"Yes? What is it?"
"I've seen signs of a disturbance, south of Kacori Wilds."
The King sharply turned, his eyes wide in disbelief and at the same time, excitement.
"Then it's a Blight? Truly?"
"There have been no signs of darkspawn in that area, but…"
For the first in Cailan's memory, Duncan paused in his sentence. This man before him had always been sure and confident of himself. Now though, the Commander of the Grey seemed to wilt under some unseen force, a heavy burden.
"Duncan?"
"I'm sorry, your majesty, it's just,"
How could a Grey Warden explain his nightmares of the darkspawn to a young noble, King Maric's son even. Duncan flinched when he noticed that Cailan had moved away from the table right into his personal space, two intense eyes gazing at him in deep concern. How had the King moved so fast? Was he getting slow in his age?
"Just what?"
The young King's hot breath blew gently across his lips and Duncan felt the long-hidden desire for his friend's son revive itself through his loins, a warmth gently spreading across his body. No! He's just barely twenty summers! I am at least thirty and those dreams...
"Duncan?"
The question pushed at him mentally, the King's nearness assaulting his senses; that unique smell of lavender, the visual sleekness of the body seen even underneath all that bulky armor, and that voice, once boyish and high-pitched, was now deeper and more arousing than ever.
King Cailan was concerned at the Warden's silence, and he stepped even closer to his friend, taking notice of a light flush creeping unto the tanned cheeks.
"Are you feeling ok?" Cailan grew even more concerned now that the light flush darkened and Duncan made a barely audible sound, something akin to a soft groan. His hand made for Duncan's cheek but it was gathered rather abuptly by another, stronger pair. Cailan was shocked at how warm they were and there was that familiar desire again, the one he had a long time ago, with the young Hadrian. However, this feeling was stronger, this want to comfort the man, to tell him that maybe the darkspawn weren't here, maybe it was just a sign of paranoia from all these years of being in the Deep Roads and traveling to other dark places.
"Duncan, it's ok..." Cailan whispered softly to him, almost afraid of breaking this moment between them. He heard a mumbled apology and a name that suspiciously sounded like his father's before he was suddenly pulled forward into a rough kiss. At first he tried to fight it, his hands coming around to push the man away, but Duncan was too strong to be pushed away. The kiss deepened and Cailan couldn't help but moan as Duncan explored his caverns with an expert tongue. By the Maker! Grey Wardens are good at everything, even kissing!
The King's knees started to buckle helplessly underneath the onslaught of the passionate kiss and the same arms that tried to push Duncan away now clutched tightly at him, not wanting to let him go. He felt himself being pushed against his own desk and his face flushed at the thought that he would be taken here, on his own desk, in his own office, where anyone could just walk in.
It seemed as Duncan was having the same thought and he withdrew from the King, breathing heavily. The shock of what he had done was evidently shown on his face and he paled at the consequences this action could wrought for both him and the King.
"I'm sorry, your majesty," Duncan's voice hitched slightly but nonetheless remained as monotonous as possible. "I-It was not my place to do so."
"It's alright Duncan," Cailan reassured his friend and maybe now lover. Yes, for once, he would disobey his father and listen to his own needs for once. Hadrian was his first big mistake and he would always regret that. Now, though, it seems as if the Maker was giving him a second chance at love and this time, he will not hesitate in accepting this gift. "Let's go somewhere more private though...I fear that Loghain's lackeys are probably trying to listen in on this."
"Loghain?"
A finger on Duncan's lips shushed his next protest and the Commander of the Grey merely nodded in agreement.
The next few moments, Duncan had found himself being led deeper into the woods. They were followed of course by both Loghain's lackey and Duncan's own scouts. However, their reasons behind following the pair differed greatly; the former was ordered to extract any information regarding a possible Orlesian conspiracy while Duncan's scouts were there to ensure nothing happened to their Commander. Duncan was more than capable of taking care of himself but he was glad that his men looked out for him. When they stopped finally, Duncan made a subtle gesture with his hand, signaling to his men that they weren't alone and his men slithered from the dark shadows. There was a whisper of incantation and both men felt the heavy presence of magic. It appeared to Cailan that someone had cast a silencing spell, one that made the area utterly soundproof. The strength of it was evident of an experienced mage and Cailan made a wry smile; sometimes it was good to have a mage on your side.
"So, why the sudden kiss, Duncan?" The question was so straightforward and so serious that it threw Duncan off balance. The Commander had expected a question like 'what was that spell just now' or 'are you ready for this?'
"Your majesty-"
"Duncan," Cailan sighed lightly; how many times must he tell his friend to not call him that. Titles were so overbearing and for some reason, it increased the political gulf between them.
"Cailan." The King liked how the Warden breathed his name, as if he was being worshiped. "We can't do this...your father..."
Cailan stepped back from his friend, furious at how his father had haunted him, even from the grave. Because of him, he had suffered everything. He suffered the pawing attentions of the nobles, the libations of Loghain and his snake-eyed Howe, his lost love, Hadrian Cousland.
"My father's dead. King Maric is dead."
The flat tone of the statement shocked Duncan and for a brief moment, the Warden saw how easily this child could be mistaken for the deceased King. King Maric was a nice man, but after Rowan died, his cheery personality changed for the worse and the seriousness showed in the heavy eyebrows, the stoney look in his eyes. Only a certain someone had melted his heart, but she too had disappeared from both him and Maric, leaving behind a hidden legacy and a man who had a broken heart.
"And I refuse to have his mistakes haunt me, even when he's in the Fade," Cailan stepped into Duncan's personal space, forcing the Warden to back into a tree. He took Duncan's chin in his hand and leaned forward, eyes still open and focused on its green counterparts. Cailan knew that Duncan was a strong man and could have easily gotten out of there. However, the Commander of the Grey stood there, his arms coming around to wrap themselves around the King's body, not minding the slick feel of the cool metal. Cailan's lips locked with those of the older man's and both groaned at the sensuous kiss, slow and langourous with all the pent up passion from the years before.
It was as if the kiss gave Duncan permission to unleash his desire, his want for the young king. His love for the boy had matured over the years, not waning like with his previous lovers. Immediately, he grabbed the King and switched them around, with the King being pushed back against the tree that Duncan was previously leaning against. Hands grabbed at each other and sought to unlock clasps of their armour, to shed unnecessary clothing. By the time they were done kissing, both men were naked and rubbing against each other, gasping and panting. Duncan appreciated the way the muscles flexed responsively underneath his questing hands and another spike of arousal shot through him when he pinched a pert nipple and earned him a soft cry of his name. He wanted to have his lover cry out for him, to have his King squirm beneath his touches. The silencing spell was still there and there was another hint of magic, this one subtle and hovering at the edge of his senses. The elf mage must have noticed that this wasn't a normal 'conversation' between men and cast another spell, one that rendered the pair invisible to all seeing eyes. He grinned at how he could ravish his lover freely and he devoured the King's mouth, plundering the warm wet depths. He deliciously swallowed the moans, drawn out when the hand continued playing with the nipple and then moving onto to its twin.
Soon though both had to come up for air and Cailan's head jerked back suddenly, a strangled moan escaping the now bare throat. A hand had snaked its way down from his chest to splay across his belly, teasing the navel and then cupping the burgeoning erection.
"D-Duncan! Ahh!"
Cailan's hand hovered near his mouth, which clenched on the fingers that had hovered in front of it. Duncan gently but firmly took his hand and he feathered kisses along the jawline. He stopped by the ear and breathed softly in it, causing Cailan to shiver uncontrollably.
"I want to hear everything from you." Teeth nibbled on the earlobe and then a tongue slithered out to lick the sensitive shell. "Your moans, your groans, my name from your lips."
"Nnghh! D-Duncan!"
"That's right," Duncan's tongue burned him, its fiery trail dizzying the poor King. His hands clutched at the other man's, trying to touch anything that could make his lover feel good. Cailan heard a stifled moan when his fingers brushed against hardened nubs and he squeezed them more tightly, eliciting a harsh cry. However, it earned him a bite from the other man and he gasped out in pain, which then turned into a relieved moan as a soft tongue soothed over the bitten area.
The Warden soon went on his knees, nipping and licking every bit of flesh that was available to him. He stopped at the weeping erection and then looked up at his King. Cailan had his eyes scrunched close, in bliss and pleasurable agony of his attentions.
"Cailan..."
Eyes opened and its unfocused expression, along with the heavy flush that had covered his face and his entire body, made Duncan want him even more. However, he wanted his King to see who was giving him this much pleasure, to know that it was his Duncan and not anyone else that was loving his body, loving him.
There was a perceptible nod and Duncan soon swallowed him whole; hands grabbed at his head, grasping desperately at his hair. No matter how much Cailan wanted to close his eyes, he forced them and found himself being pinned by an intense gaze. Hypnotized by the Warden's eyes and the sight of his member being taken in by the strong mouth, that same mouth that could bark orders to other men, this same one that could kiss the Fade right out of him caused something to coil tightly in his belly. It tightened even more when a tongue would sometimes just lick the tip before having his erection taken up into those hot depths. A small appendage teased the entrance and he trembled at the promise it held, just lightly caressing the outer rim before roughly thrusting into him, unerringly finding his weak spot. This time, the King couldn't keep his eyes open and he tossed his head back in climax.
"Oooh! Gnnghh! Duncan!"
The sounds of his climax could be heard and Cailan was horrified that the Warden might have pulled back at the wrong time, to end up with cum on his face. However, there was still that tight suction and hands firmly cupped his buttocks, pulling him closer to Duncan. The King suddenly realized that his lover was swallowing him, not letting even one drop slip out. His legs trembled and he would have fallen were it not for Duncan's strong arms that had been supporting his legs.
The King slumped in his lover's embrace. He could hear his lover's pants, heavy and hard in his ear. The finger had hurt him initially but the climax had washed away all the pain. He must have phased out for a second for he found himself being gently manhandled to the ground. Duncan's hands once again roamed the hard planes of his body, often playing with his nipples that had unwillingly hardened. How quick could this man recover? A hard kiss distracted him from finishing his thought and he couldn't help but moan into the man's mouth that had plundered his so wonderfully, so expertly. A hand traveled further south, purposefully bypassing his limp erection that was now pooling with blood, arching upwards and begging to be touched. Another finger pressed against his entrance and easily thrust itself. However, it merely caressed his walls instead of shooting straight through for his prostate, as if Duncan had all the time in the world to play with him. Then another finger was added and Cailan let out a whimper, the fingers inside him causing pain to shoot throughout his lower back.
Duncan heard that soft whimper and he immediately withdrew his fingers.
"Cailan?" A whisper of a voice floated through the hazy layer of pain and Cailan opened his eyes to find a pair of eyes looking down at him in concern.
"It's just..." Cailan stammered nervously. How could he tell the man that he was a virgin, at least as a bottom? Lucky for him, Duncan was an experienced lover and he let out a soft chuckle. He leaned forward and slanted his lips over his, this kiss gentle and slow but still passionate as ever.
"Don't worry. I'll be gentle with you this time."
This time? Cailan didn't have time to wonder when Duncan pushed his legs apart, spreading him, and Cailan let out a squeak, his hands automatically closing over his groin, although it was certainly too late for modesty. Was this how Hadrian felt when he was with me? Like a blushing virgin? Again, a kiss distracted him, except this time it hovered dangerously next to his entrance.
"Duncan! No! S-stop!" His hands pushed at Duncan's head but to no avail. A limber, wet organ dragged slowly from the tip of his erection all the way to his hole before sweeping itself just over it, causing Cailan to gasp harshly. His hands pushed and pulled at his lover's head, unsure of whether Cailan wanted to stop him or push him onwards. From the way the salacious sounds were emitting from the other man, Duncan opted for the latter and dabbed his tongue inwards, revelling at the heat that was hidden away from the world, from him. How much he wanted to take this lithe body as his! Ever since he first laid his eyes on the young King, he had lusted for him. However, he stayed his hand for he was no childsnatcher, a Ferelden term dubbed for those who preyed on children for their own pleasures. He was an honourable man and he made a decision that he would wait until the little boy grew up and grew up this boy did. His body was wonderful and he craved for it. To make it even better for him, Cailan wasn't touched, at least not in that way. Sure, he had heard of the King's promiscuous exploits but they had always placed him on top, never on bottom, not even with the young promising recruit. Thus, this area that he was currently exploring and that was wringing every possible sound his lover could make was his alone. He was glad that his mage took the initiative to cast a cloaking spell as well as a silencing one too. The sounds the King was making would have aroused any man and he didn't want anyone to touch what was his.
"Gnnghh! Ha...Fuu..."
Duncan didn't have anything on him and so he had to make his King cumm again. The King's climax came not a moment too soon and it still made Duncan hot for him. The body arched back towards, taught as a bow. His lover's head was thrown back, his mouth opened to let out a hoarse shout and Duncan felt a little smug at hearing his name escape from those sinful lips.
Cailan fell back limply, his chest heaving and he felt strangely lethargic. His first orgasm had been intense but this second one was just mind-blowing and it left him even more boneless than his previous one. He flinched when he felt fingers caress his erection, covering themselves in his fluids, before rimming his entrance and then thrusting back inside him. His erection had lagged and he thought himself too tired to be aroused again. His body apparently had other ideas and he could literally feel the blood flowing back to his spent arousal. Where was this stamina coming from? Did the Warden slip something in his mouth while he was too busy kissing? He felt sticky down there and his face grew hot as Duncan aligned himself with his opening. By the Maker, this is going to hurt!
He clenched hard on his finger when Duncan slowly but evenly thrust in; agony like never before flared and he tried to swallow a scream. Shit! No wonder Hadrian was afraid of this...this really hurts! Hands gently extricated his own from his mouth and the stubble of beard brushed against his, his lover kissing his wet cheeks in an attempt to sooth and calm him. A mouth worked on his earlobe and then a tongue laved its attention on it.
Duncan was trying to get his attention off the pain and it was working, somehow. His body started to relax around him and the sharp pain of penetration began to turn into a dull ache in the lower half of his back.
"I...I...have to move, Cailan," Duncan managed to say and he saw a perceptible nod of assent. Having permission, he slowly backed out, only letting the head stay in his lover before moving back in. When he did though, Cailan screamed and at first, Duncan was afraid that he had hurt his lover. He moved to stop and pull out but trembling hands caught at his shoulders, fingers digging deep into the hollowed dips.
"N-n-no...please..."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes..."
The Warden had almost forgotten that he was taking a virgin and he proceeded slowly, tenderly, fully aware of Cailan's flush that had spread from his face to his torso. His lover's erection was hugging tight to the abdomens and it was leaking again. The precum created a delicious sticky layer between them, allowing their bodies to slide against each other. Soon, his lover's face relaxed, no longer contorted in pain of his penetration. The hands that were previously digging into his shoulders now merely caressed his shoulders and Duncan groaned when fingers brushed against his nipple.
Cailan heard the deep groan rumble from his lover and he smiled at how he could bring pleasure to the man leaning over him, pushing against him every so gently. However, Cailan felt as if he needed more and he tried to push back but he couldn't on the hard ground. He was going to be sore tomorrow, that was for certain. Duncan whispered in his ear, asking him if he could go faster and deeper. When Cailan eagerly nodded his head, his lover leaned back and without warning, he had Cailan's legs hooked above his forearms and then thrust sharply forward.
"Aahh! D-d-duncan!"
All he got in response were heavy grunts and strangled moans from his lover; hands scrabbled for purchase on Duncan's thick forearms and he could feel the underlying strength in them. A tingle sensation curled at the base of his spine and for one terrible moment, the world whitened and someone screamed.
When he came to, he felt all the weight of his lover pressing downwards, almost crushing him.
"You ok?"
"Yeah, I just can't breathe. Please move!"
Duncan laughed at the way Cailan emphasized move. Just before, the King was begging for him to move. He shifted to the side and grabbed an old tunic to wipe the essence of their lovemaking.
"So how is this going to proceed? I need to know," Cailan asked him, no demanded of him.
"However you want it to be, your majesty."
"I can't be seen with you," Cailan went straight to the point. His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to figure out what to say next. "But, I still want...I don't want to be alone anymore."
"You are King, Cailan," Duncan murmured to him gently, a hand caressing his cheek. "No one can tell the King what to do." No one. Not even me.
Cailan's face nuzzled into the warm palm and he grasped it in his own, slightly smaller than the Warden's. "It's settled, then. I refuse to lose anyone else, not even you to fate, to Father, and the Fade."
End of flashback
Cailan tried hard not to blush, especially when his eyes raked over Duncan's form that had stood out from the rest of the mass and how Duncan's face seemed to turn to his and meet with a steady but knowing glance. It was a good thing Anora was oblivious to all this. He should have felt bad for seeing another person behind Anora's back. Then again, he was quite sure that she was doing it too. The question is who she was seeing. However, that was unimportant. What was important now was his own happiness, something he should have done a long time ago.
-o0o-
"Are you sure he's the right one, Duncan?" Alistair had seen Hadrian fight in the last match and there was something very intriguing about the young man. He wasn't surprised to see him win that last round but the boy was so young, not even reaching his 18th summers! He heard his mentor chuckle at his question and Duncan's hand grasped the young Warden's shoulder, reassuring Alistair about his decision.
"Yes," Duncan's eyes gazed over the crowd of the masses, his tall form giving him a wide, uninterrupted view. He felt as if someone was watching him and he turned, only to find the King staring at him. Duncan gifted the watcher with a smile and he was pleased to see the King nodding his head, acknowledging him from afar. I will see you again, my fair one.
"Come, Alistair," Duncan walked after the mass that headed for the taverns. "I believe this calls for a celebration and Grigoir is yearning for some warm mead."
His partner scoffed at the remark and he followed his Commander, all the while thinking of that handsome man. I wonder when I'll see him again.
-TBC-
A/N: So, so, how's the smut? You like it? You don't like it? Don't worry, Hadrian is still technically a virgin. All Prince Cailan managed to get with him was the fingering part...use your imagination for that. :D
That'll make the whole Hadrian/Alistair experience a whole lot more fun to write! Wooo! Don't worry, that will come sooner than expected. Just be patient, ne?