Chapter 9: Nathaniel

Nathaniel was no blushing virgin; as an unmarried young noble squiring in the Free Marches, he’d had a variety of experiences with women. The first time, of course, he’d thought he was in love; the miller near the estate where he’d lived briefly in Markham had a beautiful, blonde, curvy daughter, and she’d held a teenaged Nathaniel spellbound from the first time he’d laid eyes on her. He’d given her presents, courted her favour, and one day found himself fumbling around in the dim light of an unused storage shed; she’d been gone as soon as he’d finished, and had never spoken to him again. He’d been heartbroken – for a week, until the girl who ran the fruit stand at the market caught his attention.

He’d not made the mistake of confusing lust for love again, but he’d had plenty of opportunities to satiate that lust, earning himself a reputation as a lady’s man – but not a knave, either. He was careful never to lead anyone on, ensuring there were no hurt feelings – and no unexpected ‘consequences’ a few months down the road, either. He just enjoyed himself, without strings attached, and made sure his partners did the same.

But after a while, the novelty wore off. With his future so uncertain – squiring wasn’t something he could do forever, even if he’d wanted, but he’d had no inkling that his father would ever recall him, either – he couldn’t pursue anything more, and he’d had ten years in the Free Marches to have casual, meaningless sex. He really could no longer be bothered; he hadn’t been with anyone for some time before returning to Ferelden, and since the Landsmeet, he’d been simply too busy.

He was rusty. He knew he was. But though he may have been out of practice, he remembered his experiences well enough to know that something about this was ... different.

Oh, he desired her, there was no mistaking that; for the first time in a long time, his body stirred, his heart sped up, and his stomach dropped in that horrible pleasant way it always had when he’d pursued someone he found attractive. He had spent nights hard and aching for her, his mind flashing back to that brief glance he’d seen of her in only a chemise lying in his bedroll; he would flush and try to force the image from his mind, ashamed that he’d compromised her so unfairly, even if it hadn’t been his intent. He couldn’t help but compare himself to the monster he’d called Father for so long, and then he’d be overwhelmed by memories of the depravities he’d seen carried out at Rendon Howe’s direction.

So his desire was familiar, if tinged with shame and guilt. And he had no intention of doing anything about it; he was an Arl now, he had too much to do to indulge in liaisons with anyone, and his station meant that any affair he chose to begin would be necessarily complicated.