Bittersweet Memories

She sat on a rocky outcrop overlooking the moonlit camp. A soft breeze ruffled her black hair, blowing loose strands into her eyes and making the aravels sway. Everything else was still and quiet; everyone was asleep. So this is it. My last night. Tomorrow the shem would take her away. Away from her Clan, from the only life she'd known. She swallowed hard.

"Lynx? What are you doing up here, all alone?" The soft young voice sounded worried.

Fenarel. A brief smile ghosted over her pale face. She had been so glad when he'd offered to come along and look for Tamlen. Just like him. Always kind, always helpful. Always there for her. He was about her age, and they had grown up together. When she was fifteen or sixteen, no longer a child, the way he looked at her had changed subtly. His expression had no longer been just friendly but something far deeper, far more intense. More than once she had noticed his gaze linger on her, his eyes almost caressing her skin.

But there had always been Tamlen. Impetuous, hot-headed, domineering Tamlen, who had decided years ago that she would be his. He'd already spoken to the Keeper. He hadn't exactly asked Lynx before, but then, when had he ever listened to her? It had always been thus. Tamlen had made all the decisions, rash and stubborn. And if she protested, he'd just brushed away her suggestions, ignored them and pressed on. Just like in the cave. Just like- Her throat constricted and a single tear started running down her cheek.

"Lynx. Don't cry!" Fenarel pulled her into one of the chaste side hugs that were all the Keeper would allow among the young unmarried folk of the Clan. She swallowed a sob. No longer my Clan. Marethari's sending me away. Something snapped inside her at the thought, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to shift a little in Fenarel's arms until she was embracing him fully, and to lift her trembling lips to his.

It was a brief, sweet, shy kiss, but when she pulled back, he was tense, his green eyes dark with desire. "Lethallan, we can't." His voice was strangled. "Tamlen... the Keeper's rules..."

The bitterness hit her like a whip. The Keeper's rules. Tamlen and I always kept to the rules. Well, mostly. He'd kissed her once or twice, brief, teasing brushes against her lips, and he had laughed at her confusion and frustration. There had been no doubt in his mind that she would be his soon enough. Why would anyone refuse him, the Clan's best hunter? Why should he bother breaking the rules when they would be man and wife, life-mates, in just a few weeks?

And now Tamlen was gone, most likely dead, and she would have to leave, to live the rest of her life among shemlen. No life-mate for her. No bond, no happiness, just the eternal loneliness of being among strangers. It was too much to bear.

"Fenarel, please!" Her dark brown eyes caught his gaze, and her voice broke. "Tomorrow I'll be gone. Forever. The shem, Duncan... he said I won't come back." Her hands tangled in his soft blond hair, pulling him closer. "Please, I want... I don't want it to be one of them."

A shudder went through his body at her words and he embraced her more urgently, kissing her, pressing her slim, lithe body into his warmth. She felt his hardness along her belly, and she trembled with need. Lynx knew what she wanted from him. The Dalish rules on marriage might be strict, but life in camp meant that the young ones had a fair idea of what went on between men and women. The thin walls of an aravel were hardly conducive to secrecy.

Still, in the normal course of events, they would never have dreamt of touching like they did now, his hands hot on her naked stomach, her fingers fiddling with the laces of his tunic. His lips never left hers, hungry and full of longing, as they threw off their clothes and armour and sank down onto the forest floor. What he lacked in experience, he made more than up for in gentleness. His hands explored her body with careful, soft touches that made her sigh happily in his arms.

"You're so beautiful, emma vhenan," he breathed against her skin. "So sweet. Are you sure..." He had moved between her legs and spread them wide, and the look he gave her was so full of tenderness, yet so heated, that it made her shiver with anticipation.

She nodded and pulled him closer, and then he was there, pushing against her heat, pressing further in, while his lips searched for hers again and kissed her deeply. There was pain, discomfort, and she nearly cried out, but then he was all the way inside her and she held on to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. She'd never felt so close to anyone, never in her whole life. For a long moment they remained like this. Their bodies melted into each other, trembling, shivering.

Then he pulled back and began to move, and she gasped at the feel of him sliding softly inside her, again and again. She arched up to meet him and whimpered, a small, needy noise that nearly made him lose control. As she felt him tense, she looked up into his face and lost herself in his eyes, vowing that she would remember every moment of this, every single beautiful instant, every sigh and every shudder.

It was her last coherent thought. Everything after this was lost in a blur of feelings as the rhythm of their coupling became more frantic. Soon it fell into a natural cadence that took them swiftly to completion. She cried out, her body writhing under him, overcome by a rush of pleasure that left her breathless. He followed her almost immediately.

"Lynx. Lhiannon." The unfamiliar sound of her name in his hoarse voice made her shiver. Few people called her by that name any more, not since she'd acquired her nickname by taking down a wild cat with a single arrow at the age of twelve. Now, as she heard it from his lips, she knew with crystalline clarity that no one would ever call her that again. Lhiannon Mahariel was dead to her Clan. Gone. She'd be Lynx from now on. Just Lynx.

Desperately she clung to him, tears streaming down her face. "Hold me, Fenarel, hold me please."

Fenarel complied and pulled her close. He kept her in his arms all through the night, a night that ended far too quickly. In the morning, when she said goodbye to the others and left with Duncan, he wasn't there. It was almost a relief.

When they reached Ostagar a few days later, and she felt the gaze of the young human lord rake hotly over her bare midriff, she closed her eyes, drawing on the images in her head to give her strength and purpose. Memories. That was all she had left. Memories of a single perfect night in the moonlit forest. They would have to be enough.

Hugs and thanks to zevgirl for checking this for me.