Chapter Text
The Hero of Ferelden was the most beautiful woman at the coronation ball, and Teagan was certain he was not the only man to think so.
Anora made a good show, of course, and while Teagan didn’t know much about female fashion, he was sure Anora’s gown was the height of style. She was a pretty girl, and no doubt many men were eyeing their new king with jealousy as he danced with his bride.
But Teagan couldn’t take his eyes off Meriana Cousland.
He watched her from across the ballroom as she sipped champagne, chatting animatedly with the Antivan elf she traveled with. She’d traded her armor for a gown of golden silk, which clung to her body and showed off her curves. Her hair was elegantly styled, soft and gleaming in the candlelight, and her eyes sparkled. But Teagan thought it was her happiness that was most striking, bringing a rosy glow to her cheeks.
He hadn’t known that someone who could fight so hard could look so soft.
“Champagne, ser?”
Teagan started at the voice. A servant was standing before him with a tray of drinks.
“Yes...yes,” said Teagan, taking one absently and turning his gaze back to the lovely Warden.
She was laughing now, her head thrown back, and the elf was grinning mischievously at her. Teagan felt a surge of jealousy. What sort of relationship did she have with him? Not for the first time, he berated himself for not making his intentions clearer from the start.
It had been so surreal. The undead horrors emerging from Castle Redcliffe, the slaughter of the villagers, night after night...and in the darkest hour of his life, she had walked in out of nowhere like a heroic spirit. He’d been certain their situation was hopeless, but she’d done the impossible. She led that ragtag militia to victory and saved all their lives. When he saw her afterwards, the sweat of battle on her brow and a grin of victory on her lips, he was certain she must be his own personal savior.
It was an idea that was hard to shake, as she continued to help him again and again, rescuing not only himself but both Connor and Isolde as well. As if that weren’t enough, she then embarked on a mad, impossible quest to cure Eamon. And succeeded, no less. Again and again, he looked at her in amazement and thought, I can’t let this woman get away.
And yet, it seemed inappropriate to make romantic overtures while everything was falling apart around them. He kept telling himself, when this is over, when this is over...
But the longer he waited, the more untouchable she seemed. She was not, after all, his own personal savior. She was so much more. The Hero of Ferelden. Even that title was too limiting. In ending the Blight, she had saved all of Thedas.
She was young and strong and beautiful. And completely out of his league.
Across the hall, Meri excused herself from the elf’s company and hurried across the dance floor. A song had just ended, and Alistair and Anora were returning to their seats. The Warden caught Alistair by the arm and said something Teagan couldn’t hear. Alistair looked surprised, but he let her lead him back out to the dance floor. A slight tightening of Anora’s mouth was the only sign that she might not approve of this new development.
Teagan felt another twinge of jealousy.
“The lad’s doing quite well, isn’t he?”
Teagan turned to see his brother Eamon taking a seat next to him. Quickly, he reordered his thoughts.
“He is. He’ll be a fine king, brother.”
“I had expected he would need some time to adjust to his position. But he seems quite at ease.”
Teagan looked back to where Alistair was dancing with the Warden. He appeared to be making some kind of wisecrack, and she was trying to cover up her laughter. “With Meriana, at least,” Teagan said.
Eamon followed his gaze. “Ah, the Hero of Fereldan.” Eamon smiled. “Have you congratulated her yet?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity. She’s quite popular.”
“Well, she would be, wouldn’t she? Alistair’s very lucky to have such a friend.”
“Indeed.” Teagan hesitated. “Are they just friends, then? Sometimes it seems they might be...more.”
“I had wondered that myself at first. But I had the opportunity to speak of it to our Warden once. She looked a bit sad, and told me she couldn’t think of beginning any romantic entanglements until the threat of the Blight was resolved.” He chuckled. “Well, I’m certain she’ll have her pick of the gentlemen now.” He cocked his head as if something had just occurred to him. “How funny to think she was almost betrothed to you, brother.”
Funny was hardly the word for it, and Teagan had to bite his tongue to keep from saying so. It made him crazy to think how close he had once been to marrying this amazing woman, and he hadn’t even realized. He’d never so much as seen a picture of her. If he’d met her then, if he’d known --
There was no point in dwelling on might-have-beens now. His chance was gone. Eamon was right; she could have any man she wanted. Teagan had seen quite a few men approach her already -- younger and more handsome than him, of course -- but Meri had smiled and politely brushed off every one. She seemed to be telling Alistair some story now, quite animatedly. Alistair was watching her with amusement.
A moment went by.
“I haven’t done right by him, have I?” Eamon asked softly. “Maric would be so disappointed.”
Teagan looked at his brother in surprise. He had hardly expected him to express this sentiment.
Eamon already knew how Teagan felt. The biggest fight they’d ever had was over Isolde’s treatment of Alistair. Eamon allowed Isolde to ostracize young Alistair simply for being a rambunctious ten-year-old boy. Teagan had himself been a rambunctious young boy once, and when he heard Alistair was to be sent to the Chantry, he exploded in anger. It was the biggest shouting match he and his brother had ever had. Neither Teagan or Eamon ever told anyone about it, not even Isolde or Alistair, and they’d never spoken of it again.
Which was why Teagan was shocked to hear Eamon bring it up now.
No, Eamon had not done right by Alistair, but the past was the past and could not be changed. “Do right by him now.”
Eamon looked at Teagan. His eyes softened. “Yes. I shall do my best.”
The dance was ending. All around couples were bowing and curtseying politely. The Warden pounced on Alistair, throwing her arms around him in a giant hug. Alistair closed his eyes.
There may be nothing between the two on the Meri’s end, but Teagan was not so sure about Alistair.
“If you’ll excuse me, Teagan,” said Eamon, “there’s no time like the present.”
Eamon met Alistair as he was leaving the dance floor. They exchanged a few words, and Alistair nodded to Meri before walking off with Eamon.
Maker’s blood, this was pathetic. Teagan had been watching Meriana from across the room for far too long. Right, he was just going to get up and go over there.
Then the Warden’s searching eyes met his, and his nerve faltered.
He was surprised to see her face light up. She began making her way across the room towards Teagan. Why his palms began to sweat, he didn’t know. Teagan did not get nervous around women. He was charming. He was well-mannered. He was courteous. And his palms did not sweat.
It was just this woman...
“Bann Teagan!” the Warden exclaimed as she got close. “No, Arl Teagan, forgive me. I feared I would go the whole night without seeing you.”
To Teagan’s shock, she threw her arms around him.
Hesitantly, Teagan rested his hands on the small of her back. Maker, she smelled good. Like lilacs. Yes, that was the scent. Again, he was struck by just how soft she was.
She pulled back, and Teagan smiled at her in what he hoped was a polite manner. “My lady, you look stunning this evening.” The understatement of the century.
She laughed. “It’s nice of you to say so. I feel so strange dressed in this. It’s so light.” She shrugged. “I’ve been wearing armor for too long, I suppose.”
“I understand how you feel. It will be a nice change, for all of us, to be able to relax. I must say, you look sensational out of your armor.” Too late, he realized the double entendre of his words. “That is, I mean...”
Meriana laughed, her cheeks turning just a touch pink. “You’re such a charmer. I don’t know how the ladies resist you. They must fall at your feet.”
Was that how she saw him? As a smooth-talking ladies’ man? “I would hardly say that.”
Meri raised her eyebrows.
“But you, my lady.” He attempted to change the subject. “I daresay you’ve made quite a splash with the gentlemen tonight. Every time I looked for you, you seemed to have a new admirer.” Bastards, all of them.
She looked surprised. “You were looking for me?”
“Well.” Teagan was thankful he didn’t flush easily, or he certainly would now. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer my congratulations?”
“Well, I wish you would have interrupted. I’m sure those men were just interested in me for the novelty of it. A chance to brag that they seduced the Hero of Ferelden.”
Teagan looked at her. The candlelight in the ballroom played upon her smooth skin. Her gown flirted with the curves of her body. Her lips parted in the smallest smile. “I’m patently certain that’s not the case,” he said quietly.
Their eyes met, and something electric passed between them.
Teagan’s mouth went dry. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to bring the conversation back to something appropriate. “My lady. The entire kingdom owes you its gratitude. Were it not for you, I can’t imagine what horror would have befallen us. You are our savior.”
“Please don’t.” She took his hand. Her touch made his heart pound. “We fought darkspawn together, Teagan. We are comrades in arms. There is no need for this.”
“Nonetheless.” Teagan dared to clasp her hand in both his own. “I owe you more than most. What you’ve done for me...for my family...”
She was shaking her head, but Teagan continued. “I owe you an enormous debt. I doubt very much that I can ever repay you, but if there’s anything you ever want, or need...” He paused. “My lady, you have only to ask.”
Meri looked away, but did not pull back her hand. For a moment, they stood that way, his hands encircling hers, not speaking. Teagan’s heart was racing in his chest.
Say something, he thought.
Then the beautiful, fiercesome Grey Warden looked back with decision in her eyes.
“Do you mean that?”
His heart pounded.
“Of course. Anything at all, my lady.”
“Then let’s get out of here. I’m worn out from politics. If I have to face one more well-meaning noble congratulating me or asking absurd questions, I’ll go mad.”
She wanted to leave with him? His voice, when he spoke, was huskier than he meant it to be. “Where shall we go, my lady?”
She grinned impishly. “Don’t think me terribly inappropriate, but would you meet me in the kitchens?”
“In...the kitchens?”
“In about a half hour. I’ve got a taste for something sweet. But first, I need to get out of this gown.”
And that mental image did nothing for his self-control.