Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cecilia’s dressing gown is gauzy and sheer, the blush material nearly invisible in the candlelight. It’s not an outfit that should be worn in the halls of the Royal Palace; Maker, it’s an outfit that shouldn’t be worn outside of a whorehouse. But she saw Loghain today, saw that look of stress lining his face, and knew she had to do something.

It’s been nearly a week since their night together at the inn; Cecilia is ashamed to admit it, but she needs him. It’s unhealthy — they’re supposed to be companions, with the occasional fun evening thrown in after a few drinks. But lately, Cecilia has been wanting. Wanting more. She’s never the one to initiate it: they do so together, choosing the time and place together. Choosing everything together. The very thought of her being so bold as to take the lead leaves her thighs slick and cheeks flushed as she steps out of her room.

This is starting to feel less like a benefit and more like a compulsion to her (and she’s not even drunk this time). She had to swallow and ignore the feelings as she walked through the seedier side of Denerim this morning, stopping when she saw her robe in the window of one of the shops. Cecilia bought it for one reason, and she prays to the Maker that she gets what she needs so badly. Whether that’s sex, or something deeper, she’s not sure any more. Little thoughts had threatened her throughout her trip, making her heart race whenever the sun would gleam off of his face at just the right angle, catching in his eyes and making them shine. But she knows it would never be possible between them. Not in a million ages, she thinks to herself, a bit bemused. Remember what you agreed upon -- no feelings, no emotions.

Tightening the silver rope belt wrapped around the smallest part of her waist, Cecilia takes a deep breath, then opens the door to his office.

Loghain is still sitting at his desk, where he’s been all day. He doesn’t even look up when Cecilia raps her knuckles on the door to signal her presence; a grunt of acknowledgement is all she gets. The door is quickly locked behind her, then Cecilia stands pressed against it, waiting for him to look up at her.

He’s been scrutinizing over maps since they returned to Denerim three days ago: a task graciously bestowed upon him by Anora. Help the farmers and minor nobles settle their land disputes now that the Darkspawn are gone, the Queen claimed, but they both know that Anora is simply trying to help Loghain rebuild his sordid reputation amongst the nobles. And if all goes to plan tomorrow at their meeting with some of the higher banns and other lesser nobles, maybe Loghain won’t have to be hidden away like a sordid lover every time Anora holds court any more. The Grey Warden armor and protection from both Anora and Cecilia’s titles helps, but not as much as they’d like.

As if he’s ever cared about what others thought about him, or what others liked or disliked, Cecilia thinks to herself as she watches him. In one of his large hands is a compass, in the other a ruler, and between his lips sits a smoking cigarette. His fingertips are smudged with charcoal and ink, and perched on the bridge of his nose is a pair of square spectacles. They’re Dwarven-made, lined in dark metal and only used when Loghain is reading fine print. He makes a quiet noise, a wispy puff of smoke following it, then he picks up a quill to draw a long line through a field in West Hill. 

Cecilia chews on her bottom lip as she waits for him to look up, careful not to smudge the light pink paint she’s spread across them. His room is cold with few candles set about it, just how he likes it. Her pale skin prickles into gooseflesh, the skimpy robe offering no protection whatsoever from the elements. 

When he finally glances up, the look on his face is enough to make her smile quirk into something wicked. It’s both astonishment and surprise, wrapped up with a bow made of pure dominance. Loghain drops his tools and ashes his cigarette, then rubs his eyes under his glasses. “Andraste’s Grace, Demon.” He says with a soft laugh, his eyes sliding over her curves barely hidden by the opaque fabric. He runs a hand over the top of his hair, pulled back into a neat ponytail; Cecilia takes note of the lack of his signature braids adorning the sides of his face. Nothing to pull on tonight , she giggles to herself . “What are you doing?”

Cecilia crosses the office in three steps and leans down in front of him, their noses brushing. With his arms perched on his desk chair, Cecilia has easy access to run her hands up them, both coming to rest on the curve of his elbows. The dark tunic he’s wearing is thin and she can feel his muscles tense under it at her touch. Her long black hair tumbles over her shoulder as she stretches out, one long leg crossed over the other ever so gently, showing off all of her curves and assets in that pose. “You need to relax, old man. All of this stress isn’t good for your health, especially at your age...” Her eyes dart to his desk, then back to him. “Farmlands can wait. You need your rest. The maps will be there in the morning.” Her voice is a husky whispers, her lips brushing against his with every word.

“And what? You will not?” He sounds half-incredulous, but Cecilia can hear a weight behind his tone, and that alone makes a shiver run up her spine. The glasses don’t interrupt his icy gaze, and her skin prickles further as his eyes trace over the swell of her heavy breasts, down her stomach, to the dark patch of curls between her legs barely covered by the tulle fabric. 

“That answer depends on if you’re relaxed enough… by my standards.” Cecilia tilts her head, blinking her big lavender eyes twice at him and batting her lashes. She’s trying to look as innocent as possible, while simultaneously being the perfect picture of depravity.

There is barely a moment to breath before Loghain bolts out of his desk chair. He uses his strength to drag Cecilia across the room to the nearest flat surface, which happens to be the wall behind her. The stone is cool against her back, and Loghain grabs her wrists and pins them above her head with one hand, her feet dangling off the ground at their height difference. Her excitement must be obvious in her eyes, as Loghain lightly slaps her face, then grabs her stinging cheeks between the fingers of his free hand so she has to look at him when he speaks.

“I know what would be good to relax me… what would be good for my heath…” Loghain’s thumb traces over her bottom lip as he murmurs, and Cecilia flicks her tongue out over the calloused tip of it. Loghain responds by pushing it into her mouth and Cecilia sucks eagerly, wrapping her tongue around it and lavishing it with abandon. She makes sure to maintain eye contact with him throughout it, until Loghain hums and pulls his thumb from between her lips with a wet pop.

Another slap, this one to the opposite cheek, then Loghain’s lips are on hers. A leg curled around his waist pulls his hips flush against hers, and Loghain breaks the kiss with a growl. His free hand goes to her neck, and the feeling of her breaths being controlled makes her mind rush and she fades off for a moment, her head spinning. She must be making a ridiculous face, because Loghain’s laughter rouses her back to reality. 

“Come with me.”

A gentle hand takes hers after she’s back on the ground and his shirt is shed, revealing a broad chest covered in thick hair and scars. Loghain leads Cecilia through the doorway that connects his office to his bedroom, blowing out the few candles that dot the office along the way. Like his office, his bedroom is meticulously neat, with few personal affects spread throughout the two areas. If not for his sword and shield laying across a chair in the corner, she wouldn’t believe that this is his room. 

The mattress frame creaks as he sits on the edge of his bed; a soft tug plus a guiding hand on her hip ends with her sitting on his lap, her legs straddling his waist. Loghain crooks a finger under her chin, and their lips meet in a sweet kiss. It’s brief, and when it breaks, Cecilia rests her forehead against his, careful of the glasses still on his face. They’re foggy from the kiss; Cecilia’s lips turn upwards into a gentle smile. “Want me to clean those for you?” She offers with an amused tone, every breath blurring the glasses more and more.

“With what fabric?” He teases right back, pressing a hand to the small of her back. The fabric wrinkles under his touch, but Cecilia is too distracted by the hand tracing up her neck to notice. Calloused fingers dip over the deep scar lining her jawline, and his palm comes to rest on her round cheek. Loghain is rarely at a loss for words, so it surprises Cecilia to see him open and close his mouth in silence until his words come to him. “Did you plan this?”

“I’ve noticed how busy you’ve been since we got back from Rainesfere. When I was in the city today I saw this and, well…” She doesn’t want to say that she missed him, but the absent words are shouted in her trailed-off silence. 

“I didn’t exactly have much time to work on our march back.” He counters, which has Cecilia blushing a rosy red. It doesn’t take much to conjure up memories of their nights together during their march back to Denerim. Though they never progressed beyond heavy hands running over the parts of their bodies not covered by their armor, they spent those nights twisted together in what Cecilia could only describe as a passionate need for the other.

“Now, is that my fault?” She laughs, and they share a kiss that lingers on her lips. “You could have said no. ”

“And yet, I didn’t. You’re quite persuasive. And so chatty…” Loghain shakes his head to hide his smirk. “And I doubt you came here for a chat.” 

“Actually, I wore this robe in hopes that we could have a spot of tea together.” Cecilia’s tone is dry, but she can’t suppress her grin when Loghain laughs; a real laugh from him is rare, and this is a genuine one. It’s a full-belly laugh, one that shakes her in his lap. His arms wind around her thin waist as his laughter trails off, drawing her close to him.

In the silence, they stare at each other. Cecilia curls a hand around his cheek, thumb brushing along a strong cheekbone while the tips of her fingers tease the temples of his glasses. A year ago, this silence between them would have been awkward and uncomfortable. But now? It’s natural, welcome even, despite what they’ve been through. Cecilia smiles, her broad shoulders rolling back as her free arm drapes around his neck. She could get used to this, these familiar touches and comfortable silences. It’s more than welcome; she went through hell and more with the Blight. They both lost everything, and now they can start to pick up the pieces and rebuild their lives. Whether we rebuild together or apart is a different story , she muses, swaying slowly in his lap to an inaudible medley. 

His whisper, soft and quiet, breaks the silent song in her head. “ You’re beautiful .”

Cecilia squeaks, turning bright red and freezing at the confession. Loghain’s face drops, and she feels his forehead heat up against hers. The glasses don’t hide his wide eyes, darting away from hers as he tries to find his words. “I—“ He stutters, trying to backpedal, and if she wasn’t so shocked Cecilia would tease him for his rare slip-up. “I mean— you look beautiful. Stunning, even, in this, yes. That is what I meant…” A pause. “You’re far too good for an old bastard like myself.”

“Oh, stop that,” she says, swallowing back a bout of nervous laughter. “You’re— I— Thank you…” Another pause. “ I can’t believe the thing I bought solely to get me laid hasn’t gotten me laid yet!” Jokes are easier for Cecilia when she’s nervous, and she’s quite sure she’s about to have a heart attack because of how fast her pulse is. But thankfully, Loghain smirks and leans away from her, his heavy hands moving from the small of her back. Forget the feelings, Cecilia’s thoughts hiss at her. You don’t love him. It’s too soon for love. Not yet. Those feelings are fake. You’re just lonely and looking for comfort in an equally-broken man. 

You. Don’t. Love. Him.

While she’s lost in her thoughts, Loghain takes the opportunity to manhandle Cecilia until she’s bent over his knees to his liking. The skirt on her robe is so short that he doesn’t even need to flip it up to get a full view of her perky behind. But instead of fondling her or starting to spank her, Loghain rubs his thumb over her hip, waiting for her to come out of her thoughts.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice soft, far softer than it's ever been when she’s been in this position. 

The voice in her head — not the scathing one, but the quieter one that tempts her thoughts at the worst times — speaks up as she settles against his legs.

You… don’t love him. Right?

Cecilia swallows, and when she looks up, his glasses are off of his face and resting on his nightstand. She turns her head back, fingers gripping the dark material of his loose pants in preparation.

You don’t.

“Yes.”

“Ten. Count them.”

“Ye— Ah! One!” The hit catches her off guard, and Cecilia tenses as a heavy hand strikes her ass hard. Loghain always bruises her ass when they do this, but she doesn’t mind. The pain in the morning is more than worth the pleasure tonight. 

It’s not until after the second hit that Loghain starts to growl out filth, pausing for a moment to squeeze her aching cheeks in his big hand, making her whimper and squirm.

“Look at you, dragging yourself back to my bed like a wanton whore—“

“ Three!”

“Who needs nothing more than a cock in her to satiate her—“

“Four!”

“One of these days, I’ll take you in front of the soldiers—“

“Five!”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? All of the men watching your eyes roll back into your head as I fill you like no other man can?” The strikes stop, and Cecilia barely squeaks out a “yes, Daddy” through grit teeth. “Good girl.”

“S-six!”

“With how noisy you are, I’m sure they can hear you right now from their bunks—“

“ Eight!”

Loghain stops.

“... Eight? Have we forgotten how to count?” He grips her neck, pulling her up just far enough to meet his eyes. They’re frozen over, all dominance and blown pupils.

“Oh, oh shit. I meant seven! Please, please don’t make me start over, please! I’ll do anything!” Cecilia begs, tears pricking at her eyes as she pleads with him. Her ass stings, and the mix of that with Loghain’s hand tightening around her throat leaves her dizzy. “Please, Daddy!”

“Useless. Can’t even count properly, that’s how badly she needs to be filled.” Three hard whacks land across her ass in rapid succession, then Loghain plunges two fingers between her soaked folds. A mangled yell escapes Cecilia at the intrusion, and Loghain silences her with a rough kiss. Cecilia is embarrassingly wet, and she squirms as Loghain takes her hard and fast; she squeezes around his fingers, and Loghain grips her neck with seemingly unyielding pressure. She sees stars, and the warmth building in her stomach indicate that she’s already close to her tipping point. Even Warden Stamina isn’t a match for basic, animalistic needs sometimes.

The airy moan that tumbles into Loghain’s mouth has him breaking their kiss, and he pulls out of her, wiping his wet fingers on her ass with another spank. His hand moves to the back of her neck, then she’s pushed back into her bent position, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and into her face.

“Five. Count fast.” He commands, and Cecilia nearly screams as he spanks her, one hit after another without subsiding. Loghain is hitting harder than before, and Cecilia’s positive she won’t be able to sit down at the meeting tomorrow. She counts rapidly, but it’s not fast enough for him, because three more spanks follow.

A fist buries in her hair, tugging her up once Loghain is finally satisfied she’s been punished enough for her mistake. Loghain glares while Cecilia tries to catch her breath, his eyes filled with heavy dominance. Cecilia’s not sure what compels her to do this, but with the way Loghain is looking at her, she can’t help but throw an arm around his neck, pulling him in so their lips crash together in a breathless kiss. Her tongue drags across his, and she moans into his mouth when he pulls her hair. Using his strength, Loghain rolls them into his bed, pinning Cecilia under him with his legs on either side of her hips. Cecilia digs her nails into his shoulders, leaving fiery crescent moons embedded in his pale skin as she sucks on his tongue.

The kiss breaks and Cecilia drops her head back onto the soft mattress, panting as she looks up at him. With his hair tied back in a ponytail, there’s nothing obscuring his frigid stare down at her. Cecilia’s hands run over his chest, covered with dark, thick hair that’s only interrupted by a litany of scars earned over years and years of battle. 

Instead of tugging her into the position he wants, Loghain rolls off of Cecilia, falling next to her. She raises an eyebrow, but then he grips her hair, lifting her off of her back and onto her knees. His hand moves under her chin, thumb tracing over her painted bottom lip, smearing the paint that’s been mussed from his kisses.

“Such a pretty mouth, but you talk too much,” he guides her by her jaw, and Cecilia crawls across the bed on her hands and knees. The blush robe slips from her shoulder to reveal the naked curve of her breast, her flush dancing across her chest as she settles between his legs. With her hands resting on her knees, her head is held up only by his touch, and she keeps her eyes averted. Cecilia knows that Loghain thrives on her submission in bed, and she thrives on how he pushes her to be more and more submissive until she’s absolutely his. 

The fingers under her round chin leads Cecilia, and she drifts up Loghain’s body until they’re eye to eye, leaning over him. Her palms rest on his sides, and she feels the taunt muscles under her touch flex and tighten. The calloused pads of his fingers drag down her neck and Cecilia shivers against him, but his hand doesn’t tighten around her neck. Instead, it goes to her hair, weaving through it and giving it a quick tug. Cecilia hisses, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Look at me.”

It’s not a request, but a command, and Cecilia wouldn't dare defy a command. Her eyes flicker open. 

Loghain is silent for a moment as his free hand goes to her raw ass to give it a hard squeeze. Cecilia whimpers and presses into Loghain, but she doesn’t look away. “You’re mine,” he says, his gravelly voice heavy with lust. “Say it.”

She feels small and meek as she whispers back “I’m yours.”

The hand in her hair drags her into a kiss, their lips smashing together. Cecilia can’t help herself as one leg slips over his thigh and she greedily rocks against him, whimpering at the feeling. Loghain lets her grind against him for a few moments, her face dropping into the curve of his neck to muffle her moans. Suddenly, she’s shifted, her legs straddling his waist now. She grinds down roughly on him, her mouth finding his once more. The kiss is noisy and hot, and in between growled moans Cecilia cups Loghain’s face with both of her hands, holding her close to him.

They move together, the only impediment being Loghain’s loose pants (the front of which are starting to get saturated with the need dripping from between Cecilia’s legs). Nimble fingers untie the belt around her waist and the robe that was barely hiding anything falls open, revealing herself to him. She leans back, letting him drink her in.

Loghain’s hands glide up her curves as she leans back, their kiss breaking. The rope is still in his hands, and the material must have been treated with something, leaving it silky and smooth as it glides over her skin. Cecilia shivers at the feeling, and Loghain’s eyebrow raises. His hands move up her chest, pausing for a moment to palm her breasts as they hang out of the open robe.

He pushes the robe from her shoulders, and Cecilia lets it slide down her arms, pooling around her wrists and waist. It’s unceremoniously tossed to the floor, and Cecilia sits there, bare to the world and, more importantly, to him. 

The wordless tap of his fingers against her neck has her stretching, and she swallows as the silver rope wraps around her neck once, twice. There’s enough leftover slack for Loghain to wrap around his fist, and a smile cracks his face as he tests the strength of the rope. “Good quality.” A hard tug has Cecilia falling against him, and she whimpers in anticipation.

“Good?” He asks; this is new for them. Ropes are used for tying hands to bedposts, never around a neck.

Cecilia bristles against him, a soft pink color flooding her cheeks. “Absolutely,” is her quiet response.

A quick peck is pressed to the side of her mouth, then Loghain drops his head to kiss down the parts of her neck that aren’t covered by the rope. When his lips brush over a sensitive patch of skin, Cecilia moans, and Loghain retaliates by biting down hard. Hard enough to leave a bruise (he always does, and despite claiming they’ll fade in the morning they never do); yet another mark from him to remind her that what happened tonight wasn’t just a dream.

When he’s satisfied with the dark blotch against her milky skin, Loghain raises his head and there’s an authoritative gleam in his eyes. “Get me ready.”

Cecilia nods; that earns her a nice slap. “A- ah. Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” He kisses her stinging cheek, then lets the rope go slack so she can move down his body. She doesn’t go quietly; Cecilia moves down him slowly, lavishing the patches of thick hair that are interrupted by scars with kisses and flicks of her tongue. There are more than she cares to count, earned from clashes against the Orlesians, Darkspawn, training, drunken brawls, King Maric being an idiot, other soldiers; far more have stories that she hasn’t heard yet. She swirls her tongue over a knotted mark on his stomach and Loghain hisses, pulling her off it with the rope around her neck. “Stop teasing.”

She can’t help her smirk when she looks at him; with his hair falling from his ponytail, brushing around stubbled cheeks that are marred by a rosy shade of red, Cecilia can think of a lot of words to describe him.

“You look handsome,” is what she chooses to say, her voice strained from the rope. She watches his blush deepen, and Cecilia’s smile grows, because Loghain Mac Tir, General, ex-Teryn, Hero of River Dane, never blushes. It’s a sight she’d like to see again, she thinks to herself. 

“I… thank you.” He sounds confused, like he doesn’t believe her. Cecilia turns her head and rope rubs against her raw skin, but she ignores the burn to kiss and nuzzle his forearm. She watches him from the corner of her eyes, how his gaze stays steady over her, the corners of his eyes crinkling when she playfully nips him.

A soft snort. “Get on with it.”

She continues her crawl down his body, lips dragging over his scars until her mouth meets the waistband of his gray pants. Cecilia takes the black string fastening the pants between her teeth, and slowly pulls the knot undone. After tugging his pants off, she does the same motion to the strings of his smalls, making sure to keep her eyes focused on his as the knot pops open. He’s straining below the dark fabric, his cock heavy and thick. 

Cecilia rolls down his smalls, his cock popping out and bobbing against his stomach. The rope around her neck goes tight again, and an airy gasp slips out as Loghain guides her. The head taps against her lips, and Cecilia presses the tip of her tongue to it, giving it a tentative lick and humming at the salty taste. Wrapping her hand around the base of it, Cecilia takes his cock into her mouth, slowly working her way down it. Loghain rolls his hips when her tongue flicks against the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, pushing past her gag reflex. Even with determination, she can’t fit his entire length in her mouth just yet, and she adjusts her hand to cover the exposed portion of his cock. 

A tentative swallow leaves Loghain groaning, and Cecilia closes her eyes, hollows her cheeks, and bobs her head up and down. The pace is too slow for Loghain, and he makes his displeasure known with a grumbled growl and a hard tug of the rope around her neck. Cecilia gags, which only makes Loghain’s growl grow louder. “Faster.”

It’s already hard to breathe with her lips straining to stretch around his cock, and the rope doesn’t help. But Cecilia isn’t a quitter, and she draws a sharp breath through her nose and swallows, taking more of him into her mouth. Loghain adjusts the rope around her neck, making sure she doesn’t accidentally choke herself out in the process. The hand not holding the rope curls around her cheek, guiding her down while murmured filth slips from his lips.

“Look at you, such a good little whore. So eager to fill your mouth and please me.” Cecilia groans at his words, looking up at him with wide eyes. Most men look odd at this angle, but not him: he looks just as intimidating, if not more so in this moment.

A smack to her face quickly followed by a hard tug on the rope leaves Cecilia gasping for air. Her thoughts flee so she can focus on one thing: sucking him off. Her motions turn frantic as her mind goes blank, her tongue running along the thick vein on the underside of his cock. When Loghain bottoms out in her throat, Cecilia strains for air as she tries not to gag. He fills her mouth almost as well as he fills her cunt, and her thighs quiver in anticipation for what’s to come later this evening. 

Then Loghain, with a sneering and wicked smirk, lifts his hand from her cheek and does the most awful thing Cecilia can imagine.

He pinches her nose shut. 

“Earn your breaths.” 

Cecilia’s eyes are wild and wide, her nails digging into his muscular thighs as her air is cut off. Loghain’s deep chuckle rumbles through her, while tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she works his cock over. She knows she must look like a mess, something Loghain takes more pleasure in than he should. Because he’s the only one who makes her come undone like this.

She doesn’t think she’s ever sucked dick with such mania before. Spit drips down her chin, her heart pounding as she moves up and down his cock. The world spins, and just as she feels like she needs to tap out, the rope goes slack. Loghain lets go of her nose and Cecilia slumps over, his cock falling from her mouth as she gasps for air. 

Loghain’s hand presses against her cheek, giving it a soft squeeze. His voice is gentle, a bit of worry in his eyes as he looks her over while she’s slumped against his thigh. “Was that… alright?” 

Cecilia wipes the spit from her chin, then grins up at him with her heart racing. There’s a slight pant to her voice when she whispers “Why haven’t… we tried that before?”

A smile teases his lips, and Loghain strokes her cheek with his thumb. “Ready for more?”

Nodding with a smile, Cecilia sits back up and presses a kiss to the head of his cock. Taking his full length is easier this time, especially since he lets her nose bury in the thick curls surrounding the base of his cock before picking the rope up again. 

Cecilia can’t help but let a moan escape her as he tightens the rope. There’ll most certainly be a bruise and some raw skin in the morning, but Cecilia decides that she’ll wear those marks as badges of pride instead of hiding them beneath her high collars as she usually does. 

“All of the banns will be staring at you tomorrow; they will know exactly what happened to you. How the new Chancellor, the Warden-Commander, likes to be fucked like a wanton maiden, bent over the side of my bed. How she likes to have her mouth taken until she can’t breathe.”

He squeezes his fingers around her nose again, the rope tightening even more than before. Cecilia steadies herself, flexing her throat around his cock; in her haze she hears curses slip from Loghain. A sense of pride washes over her, and Cecilia laps her tongue over that bulging vein running along the underside of his cock, bobbing her head faster and faster despite her aching jaw. 

The lack of oxygen mixed with the swears and filth leaving Loghain’s mouth has Cecilia soaked and buzzing. She was already on-edge from their earlier activities, and this isn’t helping. Cecilia rocks against the bed, squeezing her thighs together when she feels herself drip onto the sheets. 

Loghain lets go of her nose and Cecilia gasps, but the rope around her neck and cock in her mouth prevent her from getting much air. Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Cecilia pumps what she’s let slip from her lips. There must be a glaze over her eyes when she looks up at him, because Loghain glances over her shoulder and smirks when he sees how close she is. 

“Are you going to spill over some simple words and sucking my cock?” He scoffs, his eyes watching her with malicious intent. “You’re not like a wanton maiden, you are one. So easy and quick to spread your legs for the first man who finds you. Go ahead, finish yourself off, slut. It will only make it easier for when I bend you over and fill you myself.”

Cecilia gasps, her breathing ragged. The rope tightens once more, her nose pinched off, and Loghain uses his leverage to push Cecilia down to the base of his cock. The sensation of him hitting the back of her throat and controlling her breathing, combined with her rocking against the sheets leaves her head spinning and a fire building in her belly.

With a mangled cry, Cecilia spills hard and fast. Tears of pleasure drip down her cheeks and she shoves a hand between her legs to ride her orgasm out on two fingers. She tries so hard to focus on sucking Loghain off while waves of gratification wash over her, but she has to let his cock slip from her mouth. An embarrassingly loud whine of his name leaves her, then Cecilia twitches and slumps over, nearly blacking out from being so overwhelmed. She’s never cum so quickly or so hard from something as simple as sucking cock, and it’s taken quite a bit out of her.

When she opens her eyes only a few moments have passed, but the rope is off of her neck. Cecilia is splayed out across Loghain’s chest, her legs hooked on either side of his hips, her head resting on his shoulder. His arms are loose around her, and a kiss is pressed to her forehead once she lifts her head.

“That might have been a bit much.” Loghain admits with a soft laugh. Cecilia shifts to lean over him, their noses brushing as she props herself up on her arms. He runs a thumb over the raw mark left from the rope and Cecilia winces, pain shooting over her skin. “Next time, we’ll use something that won’t leave a mark.”

A small smile cracks on her face, her long hair cascading over her shoulder when she tilts her head. “Never. We must do that again.” She kisses him, and she’s sure he can feel her heart race with their bodies pressed together. “And tomorrow, I’ll make sure to wear that red dress you like to the meeting, the one that falls around my shoulders. I want to see Bann Teagan’s face when I greet him with this.” Cecilia traces her fingers over the raw skin, then presses them to his lips. “And your face as well. I enjoy making you crack in front of your peers just as much as you enjoy doing it to me.”

Loghain groans at the thought, absentmindedly rocking his hips against hers. “Demon, you’ll be the death of me.” A second roll of his hips catches Cecilia off guard when his hips rub her clit just right, and Loghain uses that to his advantage. A heavy hand on the back of her head pushes her into a hard kiss. Cecilia kisses him back with passion, cupping his face in her hands. In this position, every time Loghain rolls his hips, the head of his cock brushes against her soaked hole. It drives her wild, and she’s even more sensitive than normal due to her previous orgasm.

The kiss breaks. “Yes?”

“Maker, Loghain, please. ”

His hands are on her hips, and in one push she slides down his length, soaked and slick from her spit and wetness. When he’s flush inside of her, he rocks his hips and Cecilia hisses. Her arms slide around his neck tight enough that Loghain coughs.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, an embarrassed chuckle following her apology. She’s so close to him that her lips brush his when she speaks; that closeness also means that she can feel him smile in the moment, his breathing shaky. The grip on her waist shifts, and Cecilia spreads herself, settling down around his cock.

“I—I’m ready.” She says, eyes flicking up to meet his. Loghain nods, and Cecilia slowly slides up his cock, his hands light on her sides. She gasps, her breathing ragged as she moves up and up, until he’s nearly slipping out of her. A deep breath, and then Cecilia slams herself down. He buries himself to the hilt inside of her and they curse simultaneously. 

Cecilia grips Loghain’s hair and tugs hard, revealing pale skin. A deep hickey, bruised and blue, is left in the center of Loghain’s neck as they build their rhythm together. “Fucking— Cecilia, ” he swears, and him using her full name leaves her cheeks rosy and red. She’s not moving alone, however: he meets every thrust with one of his own, the room filling with obscene sounds. Gasps, slaps, slick slides, loud kisses and grumbled curses fill the silence. 

This isn’t new to them, but it feels different for some reason. Loghain’s never held her like this. Never rubbed his hands over her hips, fingers dancing up her sides as she rides him. His lips press against her shoulder, and Cecilia tenses for a bite that never comes. More kisses follow it, leaving a trail across her collarbone and the dip of her neck. 

If Cecilia didn’t know better, she would describe what’s happening right now as gentle (well, gentle for them). Cecilia runs her fingers through Loghain’s hair, soft and smooth despite her grabbing and tugging at it. Strong arms fold around her waist and Loghain’s sigh runs across her skin, gooseflesh following it. 

His cock shifts in her and strikes a bundle of nerves that makes her hiss and arch her back, fingers clawing at his chest. Loghain’s dark chuckle rumbles under hands, his smirk spreading.

“Shut up,” Cecilia curses, but she can’t deny her grin when Loghain swats at her ass. Their mouths meet and her moans tumble into his mouth when he lifts her leg to bury himself deeper in her. Loghain swallows every noise she makes, his tongue swiping hers when she parts her lips. 

Their thrusts speed up; Cecilia breaks the kiss with a sharp hiss and presses her forehead to Loghain’s, looking into his eyes. Her thighs quiver as she bounces, squeezing against his hips. Loghain groans as she tightens up around him, pulling his forehead from hers so he can cover her neck in hot kisses. 

Somehow, their hands wind up pressed together. Cecilia’s fingers drag down Loghain’s arms as he moves to adjust his grip, and their hands find each other. Loghain squeezes her hand tight, his palm dwarfing hers. Their hands are both rough and worn from years of holding swords and shields, in battles and training and unexpected skirmishes. Their calloused fingers link together, and Cecilia shudders because for the first time in her life, Loghain’s hands feel soft against her skin.

Wordlessly, Loghain pulls out of her mid-thrust with a loud pop. “What are you doi—?” Her whiny protests are cut off with a slap, then Loghain rolls them so Cecilia’s back is against the mattress. The leg he was holding earlier ends up over his shoulder, and Loghain barely has to break the kiss to bury himself back inside of her. Cecilia gasps and whimpers Loghain’s name, her head falling back against the pillows spread across the bed.

He’s relentless as he slams into her, his forearm framing her head and pressing her hair into the mattress she's being fucked into. Her eyes find his and Cecilia winds her arms around Loghain’s neck. The fingers of his free hand trace down her lifted leg, over the twisted scar on her outer thigh from a Shriek ambush, across the dip of her hips, then across her stomach. They settle right above where their bodies meet, and he rubs small circles into Cecilia’s swollen clit. Electricity dances down her spine and Cecilia’s back arches off the bed in surprise.

“M-Maker,” she whimpers, her voice weak and airy.

“Oh, the Maker can’t help you now.” Loghain hisses back, their foreheads both slicked in sweat when he presses his to her. His hips snap furiously into her, a fire in his eyes as he focuses on her.

“ A-Ah ,” Cecilia stutters, flushed to her core. Her loose leg wraps around Loghain’s hip, and the shift sends a shockwave through her. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, body twitching, the pressure between her legs building and building. “ F-fuck—!”

“Finish.” It’s a command, but his voice isn’t as rough as usual when he squeezes her hand. There’s a softness to it Cecilia’s never heard before, and she blinks up at him with wide eyes. But Cecilia’s also not one to defy a command, and even if the impatience on his face is fake, she doesn’t want to chance it. With a wild cry of his name, Cecilia spills hard and heavy. Her nails digging into his back as her body twitches. The sheets under her are soaked, her second orgasm of the evening more wild than the first. 

Cecilia’s world is soft once she opens her eyes. Everything is fuzzy, slightly blurred at the edges as her dilated pupils try to find something to focus on. Running her hands over and down Loghain’s strong back, she guides his hips as best she can in her submissive state of mind. Gasps and mews of unintelligible words escape her, every thrust of his heavy cock into her sensitive pussy slamming her deeper and deeper into her submissive headspace.

  Loghain mumbles something she can’t quite make out against her lips, then cups her neck and kisses her passionately. Cecilia lazily lolls her tongue across his, barely meeting his frantic pace and swallowing every pant that tumbles into her parted lips.

“ Daddy, ” she whines against the side of his mouth, her voice heavy with post-orgasmic bliss. “Daddy please.”

“Please what?” He growls, putting pressure on her craning neck. The bed is shaking, the wooden headboard slamming so hard against the wall Cecilia fears it might crack (if they don’t wake the whole palace first— they’re not exactly being subtle, and Loghain’s bedroom window is unshuttered). Cecilia pushes back dark black hairs that stick to his pale skin, using her nails to tuck them into his ponytail that’s dangerously close to falling out.  Bristling at the feeling of her nails, Loghain slams his lips against hers to hide a moan that soon falls into her mouth. Cecilia swallows it greedily, and takes the opportunity to suck on and nip at his bottom lip before he can pull away from her.

With a gaze full of wild fervor, Loghain looks down at Cecilia. His pupils are blown wider than Cecilia has ever seen, turning his ice blue eyes a hellish pitch black.

Her voice is a whimper, filled with lust  and sweet sensitivity. Curling a hand around his cheek, Cecilia whispers “Make me yours.”

Loghain spills with a roar, burying himself to the hilt inside of her. His cry of her name is barely muffled in the bruised skin of her neck, and he thrusts through his orgasm, gripping her raised thigh to keep her wide open for him. Already buzzing from two orgasms, Loghain’s bravadoes finish leaves Cecilia arched and breathless, teetering on the precipice of another climax.

He slides out of her with a huff, both of them trying to catch their breaths. She must look particularly edged out because Loghain chuckles and wipes his forehead on the back of his arm. “I suppose I should return the favor.”

“Wha— oh!”

With one of her legs already over his shoulder, in her pliable state it doesn’t take much work for Loghain to slip the other over his shoulder and move down her body. His hot tongue presses against her swollen clit and Cecilia’s toes curl. She buries a hand in his hair, tightening her legs around his head as a weary keen of his name escapes her.

Loghain eats pussy likes it’s his final meal before meeting the Maker, and it drives Cecilia absolutely mad. The combination of his seed dripping out of her and his tongue lavishing her cunt leaves Cecilia gasping. She tugs hard on his hair and Loghain hisses, pulling away to bite down on her inner thigh. Now it’s Cecilia’s turn to hiss, and she whines his name again, tightening her legs around his neck.

It doesn’t take much more for Cecilia to spill. Her body tenses, then waves of pleasure roll over her and she rocks her hips into his face, repeating “thank you, thank you,” over and over again under her breath in a hazy rush. 

There must be a goofy smile on her face as she sinks back down into the mattress, because she catches the tale-end of Loghain’s weary chuckle. Blinking open her tired eyes, Cecilia sees Loghain sitting up between her legs, one of her calves still draped over his shoulder. A kiss is pressed to her ankle; it’s short, but sweet, and it makes the warmth that’s spread across her cheeks darken. 

“By the Void, I thought you may have perished there for a moment.” Loghain says with a rare smile teasing the corners of his lips, her leg slipping from his grasp and falling onto the bed.

Cecilia giggles and attempts to swat his broad chest, but her sore fingers end up dragging across his skin instead. “You’ll have to do a lot more than that to kill me, old man.” The hand on his chest slips around his neck, and Cecilia steals a brief kiss before he can lay down next to her. Humming to herself while Loghain settles back into bed, Cecilia is still in a soft and happy space in her head after a record number of orgasms in such a short time span. She tugs her hair out from under her, letting her long black locks splay out on the pillow behind her, barely noticing the thin covers being pulled over them.

There’s a hand on her wrist, and Cecilia opens her eyes and looks up. Loghain’s hair is loose, the band that was holding it back being pressed into her hand. A smoke rests between his lips, matches gripped in his other hand.

“Oh, thank you! I needed this!” Cecilia says with a smile, her tone a bit higher and bubblier than usual. She takes both the band and cigarette, plucking it from his lips and slipping it between her own. The remnants of pink paint stain the end of it while she ties her hair in a messy bun. “Light please?”

A half-smile rests on Loghain’s lips as he watches her, eyes crinkled ever so slightly as he waits for her to sit up and finish tying her hair into a sloppy bun. The match crackles to life, and Cecilia takes a long drag, blowing smoke out of her nose and maintaining eye contact the entire time.  Her lips curl around the cigarette, smoke dripping from her corners of her mouth as she leans into him, putting her weight on her hands. 

“You’re wicked, demon.” He says as he lights a new cigarette, his words muddled around the paper. His open arm beckons Cecilia, and she quickly curls into his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. They make small talk as they smoke, coming down from their highs together. Cecilia assures Loghain multiple times she’s fine, despite her ass and neck both being on fire. Every reassurance earns her a smoky kiss with his hand tucked under her chin, kisses that she can’t help but return every single time. 

“Next time,” she says a few minutes later, blowing out a thin streak of smoke, “I’d like to shoot for four.”

“You always were an overachiever,” Loghain mumbles, turning away from her to drop the butt of his smoke into the ashtray on his nightstand. Cecilia follows suite a few moments later with a long final drag, and then the two of them settle into bed together. Strong arms hold her tight as Cecilia rests against his chest, her legs curled up by his side. Like before, their hands find each other, and her fingers slip between his. Their joined hands come to rest on his chest, and Cecilia can feel his heartbeat underneath them. It’s reassuring and steady, like a drumbeat in battle. She takes a deep breath, then presses a gentle kiss to his skin.

Cecilia thinks back to the first time they fell into bed together. Drunk off of whiskey (that was more rubbing alcohol than drinking alcohol)  at the worst tavern in Highever, Cecilia dragged Loghain into the most uncomfortable bed she had ever laid on after crying on his shoulder for an hour. It was rough and angry sex, them both needing to let their frustrations out and using the other to do so. There was no kissing, no talking beyond him demanding that she beg to be fucked; Maker, they barely even looked at each other as he took her. It was rough and dirty and raw and left Cecilia feeling disgusting but also craving more. The only reason he stayed afterwards was because of the storms outside, which led to it happening again the next morning. After that, they drew up a pact: whenever they needed it, wherever they needed it. Every time after that, it slowly got softer, and everything became much more comfortable between them, which was their first mistake: they both let their guard down.

Now? As she lays there in his arms, one hand in his while the free fingers of his other hand brush over her side, it’s almost too comfortable. They passed their boundary points long ago (no kissing, no kindness, no holding the other), and now this has toppled into something far larger than Cecilia ever intended it to be. 

She just isn’t sure if Loghain feels the same.

As if on cue, he squeezes her hand and her pulse quickens. “We’ve— we’ve never done this. ” She admits, her voice surprisingly shaky as she motions to their hands. Calm down.

Loghain pauses, taking a moment to study what she’s pointing at. A noiseless laugh follows, and Loghain shakes his head. “That’s right, we haven’t,” he admits, and then he raises their hands to press a kiss to the back of her palm. His lips are surprisingly soft against her skin, his thumb rubbing small circles on her hip below the sheets. Shifting her hand in his, they move together so Cecilia can cup his cheek, the pressure of his hand on top of hers a comforting feeling. 

Looking up at him, she can’t help but smile, and Loghain mirrors her expression. His icy gaze, one that has stared her down during arguments and training and dominated her in bed, has melted down into something warm and tender. Cecilia’s heart bounces in her chest, and she’s certain he feels it against his side. 

“What is it?” He asks, his hand moving from her waist to tuck a stray lock of hair into her bun. His fingers slide back down her side, his touch feather-light. For as rough as he can be, he’s touching her like she’s made of glass. Cecilia’s not used to this gentleness, his gentleness; Loghain Mac Tir is known for many things, and kindness is not one of them. It makes her blush deepen, and Loghain leans down to press their foreheads together, looking into her lavender eyes.

Oh no. She bites her bottom lip, her heart bubbling over. Loghain tilts his head, their noses brushing, his gaze unbreaking.

“Cecilia, what is i—“

“I think I’m in love with you.”

The confession is blurted out, her words tripping over each other like a sloppy stampede rushing to get out. Cecilia turns bright red to the tips of her ears when she realizes what she just said. Out of everything they agreed on when this began, what she just said broke their biggest rule of all: no feelings. 

Shit.

As Cecilia expects, Loghain looks taken aback. She waits for him to throw her out of his bed when he pulls away from her, to tell her that they’re done, that he never wants to see her again. In all honesty, she hopes he does throw her from his bed, because all she wishes to do right now is to run away and hide in the nearest Darkspawn-filled hole until her shame or those blighted beasts kill her, whichever happens first.

But Loghain does none of those things. Instead, he sighs and draws her back against him, and a gentle kiss is pressed to her forehead. One of his long fingers curves under her jaw, tilting her head up so she has to look at him. “You are tired, and you’re speaking gibberish Cecilia.” His words sound forced in an odd way, as if he’s trying to convince both of them that he’s speaking the truth. “You need your rest. Come, it’s late and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

As he turns to blow out the candles on his nightstand, Cecilia launches a protest. She doesn’t get far into it, as her loud “ but—! ” is interrupted by an even louder yawn. Even in the pitch black darkness, she can feel his eyes on her; his gaze is heavy, full of an emotion she can’t place. They shift under the covers until Cecilia is splayed out across Loghain’s chest, her head tucked in the crook of his neck. His strong arms tighten around her and Cecilia nuzzles into him, despite his scruffy cheeks scratching against her forehead.

“Tomorrow we’re talking about this,” Cecilia whispers, her words accented by another yawn. Loghain steals a kiss when her mouth is barely closed, and Cecilia giggles into his mouth about the awkward angle. A proper kiss is shared after that, then they settle back into each other. 

Loghain sighs, exacerbated but betrayed at the corners of his mouth pulling upwards. “Sleep, demon.”

And sleep she does. With a final yawn, Cecilia’s eyes slip shut and she wills herself to the Fade. But before she’s fully asleep, she feels Loghain’s lips press against her forehead, moving gently against it as not to wake her. She can’t quite make out his whispers in her half-asleep state, but the thought of what he could be saying makes Cecilia’s stomach flip and her dreams soften. She sleeps soundly through the night, held tight in Loghain’s strong arms.

Chapter Text

“Father? Father, are you well? The Banns will be here in two hours, why are you not awake— oh. Oh! Maker’s breath !”

Anora’s normally steady and calm voice jumps nearly an octave as she enters Loghain’s bedroom, jolting Cecilia and Loghain from their slumber. Still splayed across his chest, Cecilia can barely move as Loghain’s strong arms still hold her flush against him, as they did throughout the night. Confusion, then fire flares in Anora’s bright blue eyes as she sees them, and Cecilia gulps, swallowing hard around her dry throat.

Shit… At least the covers are still pulled over us , Cecilia thinks to herself, but Cecilia knows Anora isn’t stupid. Even without the sheets covering them, it would be just as obvious what happened the night before. Loghain’s slaps a hand over his face, hiding the bright red color that has risen to his cheeks. Cecilia is just as red, but she pushes herself up onto her forearms on Loghain’s chest, breaking his hold around her. Looking behind her, she blows a black lock of hair out of her eyes, then forces an awkward smile.

“Uh, I guess we overslept?”

“ We?! ” Anora’s voice cracks, as if she still cannot believe what she is seeing. 

Cecilia rolls off of Loghain, making sure to draw the sheets around her chest in an attempt to keep an ounce of her modesty. This was a worst-case scenario for them: both of them would have preferred anyone else to find out about, well, them, before Anora. 

“ What has happened to your ne—“ Anora cuts herself off, pressing her fingertips to her lips before she can even finish her sentence. A deep breath, and then a false composure washes over her. In that momentary pause, Anora goes from a girl horrified to find a woman she considers a friend in bed with her father, to a regal queen (despite her eyes being squeezed shut and her head turned down to the floor). “You know what? Do not answer that. The Banns will be here in two hours. For the love of Andraste, please do not continue this— this—“ Anora’s eyes glaze over them for a moment and she loses her train of thought.

“... Canoodling?” Cecilia offers after a beat, attempting to lighten the awkward mood and falling flat.

“Just, do not continue this .” A wave of her hand, then Anora turns on her heel and scurries out of Loghain’s room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Silence. 

Neither can meet the other’s eyes as they sit next to each other, shoulders brushing ever so gently.

Loghain breaks the silence with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I already know I will not hear the end of this from her.”

Cecilia cannot help the giggle that escapes her, and she covers her mouth with her hand. An arm winds around her, and Loghain pulls Cecilia towards him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Hair falls from her messy bun, curling around her cheeks; Loghain’s finger curves under her chin, lifting her head up so he can look into her eyes. “Oh Maker… if we’re late to that meeting, she’ll surely kill us.” He guides her into a soft kiss, short and sweet. Smiling against his lips as they part, she nuzzles her nose against his. “Most certainly…”

Another kiss; Cecilia drapes her arms around his neck and hums. Her tongue rolls across his and Loghain’s hand presses against the small of her back. Just as he’s about to lay her back down in bed to continue where they left off last night, a heavy knock reverberates against his wooden bedroom door.

“I am serious! If you two are late to this meeting—“

Loghain breaks the kiss, not looking towards the door when he responds. “I know, Anora! Give— give us— “

“ Now! ”

Cecilia smiles awkwardly, and with one more kiss she slides out of his arms. The stone floor is cold beneath her feet, and a shiver wracks her body as she hurries over to Loghain’s armoire. When she bends over to dig through a drawer, Loghain lets an uncharacteristically dirty whistle slip out at the sight. Cecilia makes a face at him over her shoulder, pink cheeks accompanying a wicked smile.

“Ugh!” Anora’s disgust pierces through the door.

The emerald training tunic of his that Cecilia tugs on hangs down past her knees, and the sleeves are long enough that her hands are all but hidden. “Maybe I’ll wear this to the meeting today,” She muses out-loud, her smile borderline goofy as she crosses the room to pick up the robe and rope from where they were dropped last night. 

A hand on her hip gives her pause as she rises from the floor. Loghain is standing, the loose pants that he wore the night before hanging low on his hips. “I—“ he starts, interrupted by a single cough. “I wanted to thank you. For last night.”

“Thank me?” Cecilia cocks an eyebrow. He’d never thanked her before after nights they spent together. “There’s nothing to thank me for.“

“It is just nice to know that you notice an… an old man like me from time to time.” He looks vulnerable, which has Cecilia worrying because this is not a common thing that he does. Standing on her tiptoes, Cecilia rests her palm against his scruffy cheek, searching his eyes to see what might be wrong. Instead of a problem, Cecilia finds warmth and kindness, two things she rarely sees in him.

The kiss they share ends far too soon for either of their likings. Cecilia hums beneath her breath when Loghain rests his forehead against hers, enjoying his touch despite both of them still slick with sweat from the night prior. She sways in his arms, and for a moment tries to imagine a world where she doesn’t have to leave. Where they can crawl back into bed together and ignore the rest of Ferelden in favor of each other. 

Anora’s fist banging against the door ends all chances of that happening.

“I’ll come back tonight? After the party. We still need to… talk.” Cecilia’s mind wanders back to last night, her confession ringing in her ears. She internally cringes, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for Loghain’s confirmation.

Loghain nods and with one last kiss, they part. She hurries out of his room, hoping not to incur any more of Anora’s wrath as she closes the door behind her. What Cecilia doesn’t expect is for Anora to still be standing there, her arms crossed over the light gray fabric of her empire-waist gown. Anora’s gaze runs over Cecilia from toe to tip, and a noise of disgust escapes the Queen when she sees her father’s shirt hanging from Cecilia’s broad shoulders.

“May I go back to my room?” Cecilia mumbles, breaking the terse silence between them. She feels like a child asking their mother for permission to do something, and shame rises to her face.

Anora sighs, shaking her head, her loose curls bouncing. “You seem to have forgotten that we were supposed to have a meeting this morning over what is to be discussed in your conference with the Banns and the Arls this afternoon.”

Anora takes off, Cecilia barely keeping up with her gait as they cross through the halls back to Cecilia’s room. It’s a short walk, but with the tension between them, it feels like the longest trek of her life.

“Look, Anora, I’m sorry—“

She glares at her, and Cecilia snaps her mouth shut. That awkward silence continues until Cecilia is at her room, the two of them stepping inside. A bath has already been drawn for her by the servant standing in the corner, and there’s a comfortable warmth in the room radiating off of the hot water. Before Anora leaves to allow Cecilia to get ready, she reaches out to wrap her dainty fingers around Cecilia’s wrist and squeeze. Her rounded nails dig into her skin, and with one hard tug Cecilia stumbles. When she falls against her, Anora leans in so she can hiss in Cecilia’s ear. “Stop. Sleeping. With. My. Father.”

One look towards Anora reminds Cecilia that, at her core, Anora is Loghain’s daughter. There’s a stormy shadow over her eyes, a snarl pulling at her painted lips as she glares down towards Cecilia. Her blood runs cold when their eyes meet; Cecilia did not think her throat could be any drier, but apparently it could be. “It is not a request. It is not something to be debated. Cease all unprofessional activity with him at once. That is an order, Cecilia.”

“Anor—“

“An order. ” Anora’s voice cracks when she barks her demand, and Cecilia swears she sees a tear form in the corner of her eye. But Anora blinks it away, then releases Cecilia's wrist, now sore and imprinted with deep half-moon marks. “Iseren, please help Chancellor Cecilia get ready as soon as possible.” Anora says to the servant in the corner, her tone that was once icy now melted in an instant.

“... Yes, your Highness.”

With Cecilia’s weak confirmation, Anora leaves, the door slamming shut behind her. Cecilia lets the flimsy robe and belt fall to the ground, then scrubs her face with the hard part of her palm. This truly was the worst case of the worst-case scenario, and Cecilia knows that Anora doesn’t forgive and forget easily. 

“My Lady? The water will soon be cold,” Iseren pipes up, stepping out of the corner. “It would be wise to get in now before I have to change it.”

The rich scent of rosewater and lavender fills the room as Iseren pours oils into the steaming water. A bath will help clear my mind. She thinks to herself, shedding Loghain’s tunic and stepping into the hot tub, closing her eyes and sinking below the water.

—

Cecilia was late.

Loghain stands before some of the most important Arls and Banns in Ferelden, men and women who once served below him. Men and women who he once dined and danced with. Men and women who he once screamed at, declaring them Orlesian traitors. These men and women whom he now stands before have storm clouds in their eyes, made up of impatience and distrust aimed towards him as they wait for Cecilia to begin their meeting.

“Where is she, Loghain ?” Teagan spits out his titleless name, venom dripping off of every word. His title of Teryn had been stripped away the moment he raised that chalice of Darkspawn blood to his lips, ending a reign of nobility Loghain had never wanted in the first place. Maric was the one who insisted on making him Teryn; it was never his choice to one day end up a ruler. If he had it his way, he would have stayed a farmer, living out his days on a quiet field somewhere in the middle of Ferelden. How often life seems to not work out in our favor , he muses to himself. 

Suddenly, Loghain realizes what Anora means when she claims she wants to “melt into her shoes” before big events. He has always brushed his daughter off as being hyperbolic; she could practically be a bard with her dramatization of certain events. But as Bann Teagan crosses his arms over his chest with anger storming in his blue eyes, Loghain feels the innate urge to turn into a puddle where he stands.

“Well?” Teagan prompts again, tapping his foot with impatience, as if that will make Cecilia appear quicker. Maker, he is certainly Rowan’s brother. If only she and Maric could see me now, sweating like a stuck hog in front of all of these imperious nobles. 

“I am sure Warden-Commander Cecilia will be here shortly; then we can begin our talks.” Loghain turns his head away as he speaks, subtly tugging up his slumping navy blue collar. With his neck still littered with bruises from the night prior, he has to wear something that hides the marks Cecilia gave him. The last thing he needs is more eyes upon him, scrutinizing him. And, Andraste’s flaming sword, if these nobles knew what was occurring between him and Cecilia behind closed doors? He might be hung and quartered, his head hung on a pike outside the palace. Anora probably desires to do that to me right now, considering her face this morning.

The nobles go back to mumbling quietly amongst themselves as they wait, striking up empty conversations to fill the silence. The only ones whose eyes do not leave him are the two brothers — Eamon and Teagan. He knows if he was in their positions, he would be doing the same thing. Loghain has given them no reason to trust him, so he understands their irritation: the only reason why these nobles showed up in the first place was because of Cecilia’s name attached to the meeting. They would have never appeared if it was just him in front of them. Maybe they are not all as stupid as they seem. 

The next few minutes feel like hours, and Loghain can hear the nobles whispering questions, trying to figure out whether or not they should leave.

“Is this a ruse?” The Bann of the Waking Sea whispers to the Bann of White River beside him.

“Maybe so. With our luck, he’ll end up taking over this meeting and declaring himself the head of the Wardens. ”

Loghain bites his tongue at the man’s joke, turning to look the other way. They have always whispered, even before the mess he made of his Regency. The son of a farmer, a murderer, a power-hungry commoner who rose up and took what should have belonged to someone of noble blood. It never bothered him, never stung. Let them talk. He tells himself. I do not need to prove myself.

Before the first noble makes the move to leave, the door into the room they are crammed into swings open. “My apologies!” Cecilia sings out, the silk of her gown noisily swirling around her ankles as she steps in and shuts the door behind her. Loghain turns at the sound, and a smile cracks across his face when he sees her. Demon, you are awful.

Cecilia’s dark hair is still damp as it hangs down past her waist, framing the outline of her body. Her bright red dress looks nearly a size too small as it clings to her curves, a flattering color against her pale skin. The short sleeves of the gown hang from her shoulders, flaring out around her elbows, showing off a knotted scar above her heart from a Darkspawn bolt.

Most prominently, the top of her dress does nothing to hide the two thin rope burns circling her neck. The marks might not be as red and raw as they were the night before, but they are still prominent; Loghain watches as every eye in the room falls on her, then on the marks. Marks that he caused.

A flash of pride stirs in Loghain’s chest, and he joins the other nobles when they bow and curtsy towards Cecilia. Being the daughter of a Teryn alone puts her above everyone in the room, but with her added titles of Chancellor, Arlessa, and Warden-Commander ( more titles than I can keep track of, she joked one day), she certainly outranks them all. A gentle blush crosses Cecilia’s pale cheeks at the sight, and with a nod from her they all rise.

“Oh, Teagan! I feel so terrible to have kept you waiting.” Cecilia’s voice rings out in the quiet room, and she crosses the floor in a quick stride to pull the Bann into a tight hug. Teagan seems flustered by the embrace, and a smirk tugs at Loghain’s lips as the Bann -- whose face is as red as his hair -- stammers out a reply when Cecilia asks if he’s ready for his wedding next month. Cecilia might be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, but she was also a politician at heart; she knew how to get what she wanted, exactly when and how she wanted it. As her fingertips wrap around Teagan’s forearms, still chattering on about the wedding, Loghain watches Teagan’s eyes float away from hers, down to the marks on her neck, then focusing on how her gown does nothing to hide her figure or chest. Wicked woman.

Cecilia pulls away from Teagan after one more hug, and then comes to stand beside Loghain. Their height difference is nearly comical, but Cecilia holds herself as if she is eye level with him. “Now, let us all take our seats. Warden Loghain, if you could please lay out your maps…”

--

“So, are you satisfied?”

Cecilia raises an eyebrow as she pulls her glass of wine from her lips, looking at Loghain out of the corner of her eyes. The two of them flutter along the edge of the makeshift party in the main hall of the palace, watching the nobility socialize, feast, and dance. In the distance, Cecilia can hear Anora laughing at a joke told by one of the Arls over the soft music being played by a small band, then her call for more wine.

“Oh, I am never satisfied, you know that.” She chuckles; the two of them tap their glasses together before she takes another sip of spiced wine. “I will say, with the boons and the resectionings, I think we managed to come out on top. There was only one glass of mead thrown, but that is to be expected from the Bann of Portsmouth. I believe this is a win for the Wardens, as no one seemed to question our legitimacy throughout that meeting.”

“ Your legitimacy.” Loghain corrects her, tipping his glass towards her with a cocked brow.

Cecilia shakes her head. “ You were the one who drew up the rezoning lines and new farm boundaries. They agreed to your terms; I was simply a... facilitator, of sorts.” Cecilia brushes her knuckles against his as their hands hang by their sides, causing Loghain to cough awkwardly. 

As Cecilia continues to speak, they move farther from the party, sinking into the shadows cast by the overhangs in the main hall “Did Anora not say that this would help? And look, that glass of mead was not thrown at you, so,” Cecilia motions to the Bann of Dragonmount, the front of her green dress stained a deep amber brown as she chats with Arl Eamon. “I would say that was successful.”

The start of a faster song interrupts them, the loud smash of a drum echoing through the room. Arl Eamon (who has drank more than his fair share of wine throughout the course of the evening) pulls Isolde out of the crowd to dance with her; they watch as he sloppily spins her around, trying to show the Orlesian woman how to do a proper Ferelden jig. Loghain shakes his head, his glass emptied with a long sip.

“There were a few moments before you appeared where I was certain Teagan and Eamon were going to string me to the rafters,” His admission causes Cecilia to giggle, and she weaves her fingers through his, giving his hand a soft squeeze. 

“Yet here we are.”

Loghain nods, a smile growing on his face as he leans towards Cecilia. “Yet here we are.”

A moment of hesitation, then Cecilia sighs, leaning up on her heels towards him. It’s dark, they’re far enough away from everyone that one little kiss should go unnoticed. Her lips brush against his, and Loghain sighs something she can’t decipher.

Behind them, someone clears their throat. Cecilia nearly jumps out of her heels at the noise, almost bashing her head into Loghain’s mouth. Whipping her head around, she sees one of the castle servants standing there, a decanter in the shape of a Mabari’s head clasped between his pale hands. “More wine?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly with a sheepish grin.

“I— Yes, Brahen. Thank you.”

Once their glasses are filled to the brim, Brahen scurries off, leaving them alone once more. When Cecilia turns back to look at the party, she meets Anora’s hard glare. All Anora does is shake her head once, but the motion is enough to cause a heat to rise in Cecilia’s cheeks. Before Cecilia can mouth an apology, Anora turns back towards Bann Loren to continue their conversation. 

“Hopefully, this ends soon,” Loghain comments, his mouth obscured by the lip of his glass. His free hand still rests in hers and he gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze once he notices her blush.

Cecilia squeezes his hand back. “I hope so too.”

—

To their surprise, the party does not drag on much later than planned. Most of the nobles are tired from their long travels, and retire early after stuffing themselves on hearty roasts and drinking themselves silly. After sharing one last, lingering hug with Bann Teagan and wishing him well, with a promise to see him at his wedding, Cecilia makes her way back to where Loghain is standing with a ruddy-faced Anora.

“ Father-- ”

“-- Anora, I do not have the patience to discuss this with you right now. It’s late, and your entire mouth is stained purple. You’re not in the right mindset. Go to bed .”

A long whine escapes Anora as Cecilia comes to stand beside them, a warmth in her brain and a smirk on her face. 

“My, my, is our Queen drunk ?” Cecilia teases, trying to sound shocked. Anora rolls her eyes dramatically and downs the last of the wine in her glass.

“I am not drunk, Commander--slash--Arlessa--slash--Chancellor Ce-Ci-Lia .” Every syllable of her name and title to go along with it is emphasized, making Cecilia snort. “I just-- I simply needed to have a few drinks to deal with the new Arl of Denerim. He’s not as terrible as his cousin was, but Andraste’s grace, he does not know the value of silence .” Anora holds her head in her hand, and Cecilia’s snort turns into full laughter. Loghain joins her, and Anora lets out a low groan, followed by a hiccup. 

“Erlina!” Anora calls out for her most trusted handmaiden after another exaggerated hiccup, twirling around and wobbling on her heels. Loghain reaches out, steadying his daughter with a hand on her side before she trots off. Her voice echoes through the palace as she heads off to her quarters. “Erlina! Get me out of this infernal corset at once…!”

Cecilia waits until Anora’s voice fades out to speak up. “What did she need to talk to you for?”

“Nothing that cannot wait until morning, I assure you.” The pair turn towards one another, and it is in that moment that they realize they are truly, finally alone. The servants have finished cleaning, the last noble has tucked themselves into bed, and the candles throughout the castle have been dimmed. From how quiet it is, Cecilia is certain that even the mice in the castle have gone to bed, worn out from the long day.

But here they are, two misfits in every sense of the word: an ex-Teryn and an almost-queen, buzzing with life as the world around them sleeps. And when his hand presses into hers, Cecilia can’t help but welcome it, weaving their fingers together.

“It is getting late, Commander.” Loghain says, his voice gruff, but there is a smile dancing on his lips.

Cecilia nods. “That it is... and don’t call me that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What would you prefer? You always say that, then never give an alter--”

She cuts Loghain off with a kiss, propped up on her tiptoes, her arms tight around his neck. Cecilia kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until their heads spin and they need to pull away for air.

“Cecilia,” she breathes against his lips, “just Cecilia.”

“Cecilia,” he responds, his voice equally breathless. Something in the way he says her name makes her heart flip, and she cannot help but kiss him again.

After a few more sweet kisses hidden in the darkness, Cecilia detangles herself from him. The only thing that stays together are their hands, fingers woven between each other and hanging between them.

“To bed?” He asks, and Cecilia knows in his words that they do not intend to spend the night separated.

She squeezes his hand, her smile growing. “To bed.”