Four years she had avoided home. She could no longer afford to, aware what her isolation was now doing and the repercussions of her exile, this time self-induced.
Her desk was a complete mess, as usual. Sereda was in the process of sorting it out, but more letters had arrived from Orzammar to create more clutter.
It was not just official business regarding her status as Warden Commander that she had to deal with now: it was the politely insistent letters from Gorim, her filter for her own people; it was minor sons and daughters of noble families writing of their petty squabbles; smiths begging her to wear their armour and endorse their work; artisans sending statues, poems, jewellery… It never stopped, no matter how long she ignored it.
The longer Sereda left the matter, the bigger deal it seemed. It just wouldn't end. Even though she was a Surfacer and visited Orzammar only on matters of Grey Warden custom, she was still made Paragon. It was a recent change and one that came with a heavy price; her weak ego made her accept the title, despite herself. Her weak, stupid-
"You got that face on," a voice said from the doorway. She looked up with a wry eyebrow and removed her hands from her chin, cocking her head to one side at the speaker.
"Oh?"
Alistair was leaning against the frame of the entrance, book in hand. It was getting late and she was tired, but Sereda could not be bothered to move from the desk. It was a vicious cycle really; she'd stay up for hours longer then she should in this chair, attempting to do work. The exertion of moving and shuffling to bed seemed too much effort compared to just sitting there and letting her brain tick over slowly, a million thoughts away from slumber.
"Yeah, the brooding Commander look." He faced her seriously and she smiled faintly in return. Sereda thought of the wayward recruit who had sat there earlier and was duly lectured by the Commander on duty and morality, and wondered if her lover would appreciate the same. Alistair soon ruined the effect by putting his bare feet on her desk, and she rolled her eyes at the gesture.
"I'm actually fairly happy with how things are proceeding, to be honest. Recruits are mostly behaving, the Wardens we have are amazing. Even Anders hasn't frozen anyone solid recently… I'm almost disappointed."
He placed the book on the table and she peeked at it, trying to work out the title as he laughed at her words. Alsitair was attempting to teach himself Orlesian? Interesting. "I'm not," he replied, leaning back further into the chair with a crooked grin. "A nice quiet life. That's for me."
She returned his laughter with her own and shook her head, not believing a word of it. "Just for that, we're heading to Kal'Hirol this week; we need to go poke some more darkspawn, just to make sure."
He sighed dramatically. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything." He followed her gaze to the crates from Orzammar then, packing boxes neatly stacked in the corner. He was always curious what they sent, the "freebees" as he called them. She had a habit of giving away the things she didn't want, and her friends and fellow Wardens usually got the better deal of it. Another had arrived today and had sent her in an obvious mope, and he wondered how long it would last.
Sereda was toying with a letter, and he wiggled his toes at her to get her attention. She made a grab for them and he took them off the table before she got any funny ideas about tickling.
Alistair gave her a look she'd read a thousand times before, never moving his eyes from her face. After having enough of her moping and falling for his silent prodding respectively -she always did need herding out of her office- Sereda finally moved from her chair.
"Ah well," she managed through a yawn, and went to the fireplace to set the guard in place. "Whatever the world wants I will deal with tomorrow."
"That's the spirit." He tucked his book under his arm and rose to meet her, not believing a word she said.
Above them they heard a door slam, followed promptly by some thundering footsteps. A not so discreet girlish giggle followed soon after, and Sereda looked at the ceiling and groaned in frustration. "Bloody children," she muttered.
"Yes, Grandmother."
Sereda looked up at him and shook her fist, sheepish at her sudden bout of disapproval. "Youngsters these days, no respect."
"Obviously in our day we walked up a hill twice in the freezing cold to earn our respect, and we liked it."
"All with no shoes, too," she said, falling for the setup. "And we fought darkspawn wearing nothing but bloomers, a cheese knife as our only weapon."
Alistair nodded seriously. "It's true, we stopped the Blight single-handedly with a cheese knife. We should get it put on a plinth and set it somewhere public so people can come and admire the weapon that defeated the Arch Demon. Oooh, it would become like a relic… People would pay to touch our magical cheese slicer and miraculously it would cure diseases. We'd make a fortune."
"All hail the mighty cheese knife," she said seriously, then stopped with a frown. "Why do I let you let me talk utter nonsense, Alistair? Honestly, the rest think we're mad, you know."
That one was simple to answer, and he grinned easily. "Is it my rugged charm, my winsomely handsome looks? I just don't know."
"Poor, deluded man," she replied, tone serious, but Alistair could see the wicked gleam in her eyes.
Inwardly he sighed in relief, glad the frown had disappeared. "Ha! Only delusions I suffer from are the ones you give me, Grandma. Namely that we're apparently now old and grumpy, for instance."
Sereda laughed and tucked her hair behind her ears, finally walking up the steps leading to their rooms. "Back to Grandmothers, are we? Should I be knitting socks and disapproving at youths some more? Maybe I should dye my hair grey… I always did wonder at those late night talks you had with Wynne, you know, it all makes sense now. And here's me thinking having a few years on you was a thing between us, but apparently I should be older."
He brought down his hands to grope something far more rounded then her shoulder. "I like my women experienced, what can I say."
Of course she noticed the plural, and was about to remark on it but was interrupted by a door opening again. They were close enough to notice whoever did it, and a very fat ginger tom sauntered out, completely ignoring the pair of them to bolt downstairs. A red faced and dishevelled looking Anders soon followed after, only half-dressed. Curiously Sereda tried to peek in through the gap left by the door, but the mage soon closed it before she could get a proper look.
"Oh, hello," Anders said casually, trying to act natural. "I'm, uh, just off to the kitchens. To feed my cat. Obviously."
She smiled up at him, eyebrows raised. "Obviously," she replied. "Couldn't be anything else, of course."
All three of them stood in silence, Sereda trying not to laugh. Alistair fixed the mage a grin and raised his eyebrow. "Well now." Anders was waiting for them to leave, and he knew it. "Lovely weather we're having, wouldn't you say?"
"Alistair," Sereda warned, and dragged him away. "We'll leave you to feeding your cat," she said to Anders over her shoulder, and finally they headed into their rooms.
She heard the mage's bedroom door open again, and the giggling started anew. "Who do you think it is?" He said, removing his shirt. "Don't you to go storming in and lecturing Anders and whoever that is about …cat feeding, he may get ideas. And I'm much too tired to defend your honour, you know. Been a busy day."
She raised an eyebrow at that. "More like your honour," she said, thinking of the ribbing the "Commander's Second" got from the rest most of the time.
"He's only jealous. But seriously, come on. I know you have a theory. Who is it?"
"It's Oghren," she replied, lighting fast. A balled up shirt got thrown her way and she grinned. "Ah, who knows with Anders. But…"
"But?"
She turned to face him, smiling again. "Ten silvers says it's Sigrun."
Alistair grinned at her, and made a show of looking at her curves. "No man can resist a fine dwarven woman, what can I say."
Sereda laughed quietly and made a show of ruffling her hair. "Why do you think we keep our women close to the Stone in Orzammar? Wouldn't want you surfacers stealing us away, obviously."
"I handle stolen good now? Funny, I always thought it was given freely. Zevran was right, you women hide things all the time."
Whatever had made her sullen previously had returned, and she stared at the bed and frowned, mood prompted by her own words. Despite her tiredness and the promise of a nice warm body pressed up against her, she wanted to be completely exhausted before she collapsed into a slumber.
Sereda knew she would lie awake staring at the ceiling while he snored into the crook of his arm if she tried, and thought of something that would help chase the demons away. "Fancy a spar?" She asked. Carefully she picked up the daggers that rested by her beside table, quiet and unassuming in their pommels.
He was in the process of removing his breeches and grinned up at her. "Oh really. Is that what we're calling it? That's almost as bad as Anders allegedly feeding his cat, you know."
Sereda rolled her eyes and gestured to his shields and swords on the wall. "No, an actual spar. I'm not ready for bed yet."
He stood over her and raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to seduce me? You don't have to, you know. it's much easier just to say: 'Alistair, ravish me.' Works just as well, trust me. I'm a fairly easy creature to please, ow-!" She reached up and pinched his nipples and he yelped, covering himself protectively.
"We do it all the time," and Sereda smiled up at him sweetly. "I just don't want to think, is all," and at that she unsheathed her dagger and flipped it in her hand, feeling the familiar weight.
Alistair went over to her with a sigh. "Alright, let's go. Just… no nipple twisting, okay? If you do that I'm going to have to retaliate and give you an obvious lovebite that'll get the recruits all talking."
She swept her gaze down between their bodies, but not before pushing him away. Alistair was just in his underwear, and she raised an eyebrow. "You're going to the courts like that?"
"I will if you will." She sighed and removed her leather armour, reaching for a pair of loose, linen trousers more suitable for exercise. He went back to put his own breeches back on with a grin, and she removed her boots and ignored his challenge.
The courts as they called them were in an old grain house near the Keep; it was where herself and Alistair taught the recruits what they knew in combat technique, as well as a place for them to train. They were in the process of adding more equipment that Zevran insisted would build muscle tone, but she was dubious they would be used.
The place still unfortunately smelt of rotten grain, but mixed now with the scent of sweat and the occasional accidental blood letting; during the high heat of summer it wasn't the most pleasant of places to linger in, but it served their purpose.
Alistair started lighting the torches in the room while she jumped up and down on the spot, stretching her neck muscles to get ready. Sereda started a drill she'd known since she was eight years old, and brought her daggers to a finish when she noticed she was being watched. "Live steel?" He asked dubiously, and then looked at their thin linen garments, more for bed then anything else.
"It'll mean we're more careful with each other," and she started to sweep her knives in the air again, gesturing for him to join her in the centre.
"If either of us get hurt, you are waking the healers up and explaining it all. I am not facing Anders in the middle of cat feeding. Just… no." With a shrug he reached for his sword and shield, unconsciously standing up straighter to loom over her. Sereda grinned up at his unknowing attempt to intimidate and they circled each other, waiting.
He made the first move, and she was pleased that he was getting better at feinting. She leapt back with ease as he charged at her with his shield, turning on her heel to cross her blades to deflect his sword. He used his considerable strength to try to push her down, and she faked a kick to his side to make him move.
Sereda dove behind him and then--- nothing. He turned quickly, eyes darting trying to find her in the flickering torch light, but she had disappeared. The room was filled with piled tumbling mats and large wooden blocks used to practise jumps and landings, perfect things to hid behind. Alistair tried to adjust his eyes to find her; it was dark enough for her to disappear into the shadows, and he cursed not lighting enough lamps.
She was perched above, watching his movements from the second floor. "This is cheating you know," he goaded, still not seeing her. He put his back against one block and she grinned.
Sereda carefully reached around to find something to throw and found a training sword the recruits used to spar with. As quietly as she could she lobbed it to her right to make a noise; to Alistair's credit he didn't flinch. She could see the whites of his eyes roll back at her failed ploy and looked up then, slowly sweeping the room with his gaze. Instinctively she crouched lower, hiding the shine of her blades under her body.
He turned slightly, exposing his side to look to her right. Sereda saw her chance. She leapt once onto the block below and jumped again, hoping she had enough speed to knock him down.
Alistair noticed her in time and brought his shield up directly to her middle. It hit her midsection with a resound thwack and Sereda groaned at the impact, the momentum sliding her onto the wooden floor until she hit another block. In the tussle she had lost a dagger, and seeing how it was too far away, she tightened her grip on her remaining weapon and darted into the shadows again, ribs hurting in protest.
"Are you alright?" He asks, but she gives him no answer. Sereda sees he has a small cut on his neck, bleeding slightly in the white of his shirt; her weapons had found soft flesh by accident.
He kicked her other blade away further, and she cursed silently. Slowly she crept around his continued circling, making sure her feet were silent. She hid behind the very block she was thrown against, waiting for his back to turn again. Another opening, and this time she solidly hits his middle. Alistair went down with a clatter, his shield barely breaking his fall.
She could have leaned on his shoulders and held her blade against the back of his throat lightly until he called a forfeit, proclaiming herself the victor in their match. Instead she wanted to play.
"We're even now," she calls, lone dagger in her hand as she clambered out of reach of him. She stood on a block at his eye level and Alistair has no idea how she got there so quickly, still surprised at her speed. He doesn't bother to try and catch her, knowing she'd be gone by the time he'd pulled himself up there to face her.
With another effortless jump Sereda headed casually to a block closer to him, well aware she was putting on a show. Alistair shakes his head and lifts his shield in her direction, a smile on his face. "Come down and say that," he replies, eyes glittering dangerously.
"Hmm. No." She leapt onto a thin bar meant for balance training and stalked across it as easily as a cat, making it look like a walk down a hallway. Sereda hopped along it, turning gracefully on her feet, despite the dagger in her grip still. With a grin she gives a Player's bow, and looks down at him. "Come and get me, lover."
"Now you're just showing off. Not that I don't mind, obviously." Finally he plays her game. Alistair lowers his weapons and puts them down, hands raised in surrender. "I have a proposition."
"How tempting." Sereda sits on the bar then, amused at his reaction. She was the right height for him to pull her knees around his torso, and he does so with a smile. "Tell me more," she whispers against his ear. He pulls her tighter to him and she winces, her ribs raw still from his shield bash.
"You're hurt," and at that he places his hands carefully on her, trying to work out her injuries. Teasing was pushed to one side instantly, and she rolled her eyes.
A finger touches the injured skin above his collar lightly and he winces. "So are you," she replies, and at that she licks at his wound. Alistair makes a face at her action and she giggled in response, finally pushing him away.
"That's because you cheat with your not facing me nonsense. Duel me like a man! Or woman, in your case." Carefully he trailed a hand along her thigh, watching as she smiled at his exploration.
She swings her legs over to lie against the bar, feet dangling down freely. Alistair shifted to accommodate her position, hands still on her. "You expected me to play fair?" She asked, then giggled as he kissed the exposed skin above her knee.
"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said, looking at her again and ignoring her question. "We're not meant to hurt each other doing this, you know."
"Aaw. How sentimental of you, darling. I'm fine, stop fussing. Nothing is broken, apart from my ego, apparently."
He leans his head against her legs carefully and Sereda plays with his hair idly. "I was going to say we fight naked and bare fisted, but now I don't want to." Instead he runs a hand across her ribs, a silent apology to the damage he caused.
She found herself being scooped into his embrace off of the bar, and scowled up at him. "Put me down," and she tried to wriggle free of his hold.
Alistair knew what he was about to do would result in two reactions, both polar opposites to the other. One would mean his lady wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the night and possibly the morning after, and the other would be a deliriously fun outcome for the both of them. So he kissed her firmly and possessively anyway, cradling her head with one hand.
When she didn't lash out in protest he knew he done the right thing. " Aha! Knew it would work," he said out loud, then cursed inwardly at his lack of subtlety.
Sereda smiled around his mouth and kissed him back just as fiercely, hands digging into his short hair again. "Shut up," she murmured, trailing a line of kisses down his jaw.
"I'll see what I can do," and she turned so her legs wrapped around his waist. They moved towards the closest block and Alistair hit his back against it, wandering his hands down her shoulders and into curve of her spine. Slowly he slid down the wood until she was straddling him, smaller hands lifting his shirt away.
It was familiar and new at the same time, gestures and touches at once comforting and stimulating. They knew each other so well, little shortcuts and tricks that came only from years of knowing, knew that if they touched there or offered a kiss here is would open up places secret only to them.
She ran her hands along his broad chest under his shirt, trailing them down firm muscles and scars. Alistair pulled back from kissing her to remove her shirt, fumbling with the ties. He grinned crookedly to say something and she silenced him again with her lips, laughed quietly at the obvious gesture.
Sereda removed her breastband and pushed her body against him again, and he kissed a line down her throat to her cleavage, enjoying her sudden hushed gasp. "Well. What am I going to do with you?" He said in a smile, and pushed her away from his embrace so he give proper attention to her breasts.
She her nails into his shoulder as pain lanced her ribs at the arching of her back. Carefully she wriggled forward slightly so it would lessen, trying to breathe shallowly. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, and he lifted his head up, concerned.
"Are you alright?" He asks, a large hand delicately touching her side gently. Sereda lifted it in a place far more interesting and glared.
"Yes," she answered shortly, murmuring her appreciation when thumbs circled her nipples in retaliation of her words. But soon he lifted his hands away and Sereda was pushed back gently, suddenly cold thanks to his retreating touch.
"Come on," he said, offering her a hand. The damage to her ribs was worrying him, despite temptation.
Of course she refused his help. "I'm fine," she almost snarled, and reluctantly put her breastband back on awkwardly, trying not to show her pain.
He made a noise of disbelief at her words and tucked his shirt back in his breeches. "Much as I would be more then happy to continue this, we have a perfectly serviceable bed waiting. Possibly away from a place where I'm not reminded about sick… You remember when Oghren threw up in here that one time in front off all the recruits? The poor maids spent hours scrubbing vomit from the training mats."
The glare she gave him only made grin, enjoying her annoyance at their abrupt stop in activities. She looked so adorably grumpy that she was soon pulled into a hug, albeit gently. Hesitantly she returned it, and a kiss was placed onto her head. "We really are old, you know. We've done it in worse places then this. And in worse condition," she murmured against his chest.
Alistair grinned at the memories. "The Deep Roads. That alleyway in Denerim. Oh! Remember the tree?"
She picked up her fallen daggers with another wince and frowned. "What tree?"
"That time in the Brecilian Forest. You know…"
She thought about it, then chuckled. "We fell out of a tree."
"Ah, good times." He snuffed the lights and she waited by the door for him, watching the Keep from a distance. A few lights were on, and tried to guess who was awake. Nathaniel had a habit of staying up, Sigrun too. It appeared to be part of the Grey Warden deal; taint and insomnia.
"What wonderfully wicked things are you going to do to me, then?" She asked quietly, leaning against his body briefly as he finally fell into step with her.
"I can think of a few ideas," he replied. Casually he leant an arm over her shoulder and she looped hers over his waist.
"Hmm. Only a few? A pity."
Alistair was going to reply, but was interrupted by a call across the courtyard. "You!"
They both knew it was Oghren, even without turning around. "Been to the pub, I see," Alistair said in a grin, watching as the warrior put his hands on knees and laughed.
Nathaniel bowed to the pair of them cheerfully, accompanying the shorter man. "We have indeed," and the archer fixed her a knowing look. Oghren was having problems with Felsi again, and Sereda was beginning to lose patience in dealing with it.
Oghren and Nathaniel took in their appearance, all bare feet and loose, light clothing. "What have you two been doing, eh?" Oghren started to say, pointing at them around his flask. "Been twirling that pike?" And he took a swig from his drink with a giggle.
"Sparring," Sereda said shortly.
The warrior swayed slightly, almost knocking over Nathaniel in the process. "Sure. Sparring. That's where it all starts, and before you know it you're married to a bronto and you got a kid on the way. Pah. Sparring."
Nathaniel raised his eyebrow and interjected smoothly. "Perhaps we should continue this in the Keep, yes? I have a bottle of whisky you might like, Oghren. A good vintage."
Sereda sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over her injured ribs distantly. "Good idea. In fact, let's all go in, shall we? We'll leave you boys to it." She looped her arm around Alistair and started to walk away, but Oghren wasn't done yet.
"Ha. Still on that leash, I see. Want my advice, boy?" He said.
Alistair rubbed a hand along his jaw and gestured vaguely in his direction. "Not particularly, but I'm sure you're going to give it anyway."
"Never settle down," and with a mutter he downed the contents of his hipflask with one gulp. "Woman are all… women are all…" And Oghren shruged vaguely, unsure what to say. "Soddin' women," he muttered quietly.
Sereda glared at her fellow dwarf, knowing he was too drunk to talk sense to. "Enough, Oghren. Sleep it off and I'll see you tomorrow."
Oghren chuckled. "That's right, you show ol' Oghren that heat. I know enough to handle a Paragon if you get my meaning…"
"Oghren…" Alistair said in warning. Carefully Sereda put a hand on his elbow to stop something from starting and he backed down, slightly.
"Enough to abandon you for an anvil, you mean?" It was out of her mouth before she could do anything about it, and she mentally kicked herself for being cruel.
"Heh. It's not all sparring and running away, you know. Come over here and I'll show you what you're missing…"
She turned on her heel quickly, finally hearing enough. Sereda understood Oghren's misery; sometimes it was similar to hers, the pair of them broken by a city that had isolated and exiled their very existence just by their misfortunes. Other times, like tonight, she wanted to smother him in his own self pity despite bravado, annoyed that he was drowning in sorrow again.
Alistair ran to catch her up, longer legs making the gap seem paltry. They walked in silence until they reached their room, and she rested her forehead on the door and butted it slightly with a sigh, emotionally drained again. "You don't open a door like that," he murmured, reaching around to push open the latch. "A handle is much more efficient."
She looked at him in annoyance before she walked in and he answered her with a rakish grin. Sereda sat on their bed and waited, watching as Alistair settled their weapons back where they belonged and lit a candle so they could see. "Sorry love," she said softly. "It's not your fault."
"Ah, it's just Oghren. You know how he is, tomorrow he won't remember a thing." He sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing quickly. "Off with your shirt."
Sereda raised an eyebrow wryly. "All romance, I see."
He started to pull at the hem of her clothing, unfastening the ties around her throat. "Hush, you know what I mean."
"You've seen my breasts before, I'm sure," and bit her lip as she raised her arms so he could tug the item of clothing away from her body.
Cold hands were placed on her ribs and she winced. "This is worrying me," he told her, and she rolled her eyes. Gently he prodded the skin and bone there, feeling for injuries. "It doesn't appear to be broken, but…"
Irritably she slapped his hands away, then wish she didn't when her breath hitched in pain at her gesture. "You've seen me in worse condition, stop mothering."
"I should get a healer. Anders might be awake… Maybe-"
Sereda made a small sound of frustration and threw a pillow at him as carefully as she could. "Get me the bruise poultice from our travel bags and the willow bark tonic I use for my headaches. If it's no better by tomorrow then I'll visit the healer. Okay? Stop fussing, before I kill you."
"Lean back." She did as she was told as he rather expertly stripped her of her breastband. She smiled at that and arched her back slightly. "Oh don't even try it," he replied, aware of her posing. A little firmer then usual he applied the oily balm and she grinned through the pain, sipping from the medicine bottle delicately.
"I feel much better, you know."
He looked at her suspiciously, eyes narrowed then. "You got that look…"
"Have I?" She slid a barefoot along his shin and smiled sweetly. "I've been terribly slighted. Are you going to make it up to me?"
"Sereda…" He started to say. Somehow his hands were still on her and she knew then she had one up on him. "You're meant to be resting."
"Treat me delicately, if you insist. But you better finish what you started earlier or you'll be sleeping in the kennels."
He didn't believe a word of it, and very carefully he placed her in the centre of the bed. "What am I going to do with you?" He said, trailing fingers lightly from her forehead to her belly button, mindful of her injury.
"I thought you said you could think of a few things?" She replied throatily, then pulled him down for an aggressive kiss. It was ruthlessly searching and her tongue scraped his mouth open, forcing him into action. He was very aware of his weight above hers, unsure how he could touch Sereda without hurting her further.
His body betrayed his concern by reacting physically to her wandering touch, and she smirked at the reaction. Lighting quick hands removed his clothing, and she grinned around his mouth as he moaned as she gripped his length, aware she'd won.
Fingers soon found the edge of her breeches and he undid the cording enough to dip into her curves, smiling as she gasped. Alistair still acted like it was a privilege to touch her, some rare and precious artefact that never failed in astonishing him. As she felt his fingers touch her in familiar places she gripped nails into his back, helpless under the administrations of his tongue and touch.
With a swipe of his thumb finally she cried out, the core of her pulsing around his fingers. He looked up at her face, his mouth still kissing a line around her breasts and oh so mindful of the bruising on her ribs.
The thought of them doing this with his body entirely balanced above her injured chest worried him. Despite recent activities she saw his frown through her dazed, heavy lidded eyes and made a sound of irritation. Carefully she rolled over intend on getting on knees, but Alistair had other ideas.
He lifted the hip closest to him and soon she was on her rolled to one side, spooned again the hardness of his body. "Interesting," she murmured, then sighed as his hands trailed down the lines of her exposed curves. "But doable."
He lifted a knee up slowly, slowly edging his body towards hers. A kiss was placed below her ear and carefully he eased into her, and Sereda sighed at both the familiar and at the tension, her body taut and wired. Sereda leant back slightly so they could get used to each other, a hand placed where they joined, still enjoying the feeling of being joined.
Alistair started to pull her closer and their coupling drove to a similar rhythm that soon had her peaking, sweet and insistent all at once. His fingers dug into her hips and he bit his lip, trying not to be too forceful, to remind himself to keep things slow.
She moaned into the crook of her arm, unaware of each gasp and cry registering to him. Closing her eyes she determinedly sought out her own building pleasure, every cell of her skin tingling with energy. Alistair shifted her leg up and the change of position was enough to push her over the edge and back, crying out until something broke.
It was enough for him. As she buckled under her own exertions he pulled her closer, moving fast until finally he arched into her with one loud groan, sweat dripping between them both. Carefully he collapsed away from her, sprawled out on the bed.
When everything appeared to stop spinning and she had caught her breath Sereda allowed herself to look over her shoulder. He could see her profile, softer now in the dimming light of the candle. Gently he pulled the misplaced blankets over the pair of them, the spring air still cold and winding in the old, battered Keep. Alistair draped an arm across the dip of her stomach and she closed her eyes, finally willing herself to sleep.
Slumber would not find him, however. She knew that he wanted to speak, judging by the trailing gestures he danced along her arm, and she yawned slightly, waiting. "Sere?" He said, using the shortened form of her name Sereda would only indulge when they were alone.
"I'm awake," she answered, moving slightly so they could spoon better, bodies still slick with their sweat.
He kissed her head and smoothed back the damp hair from her face. "Whatever it is that is eating you up, let me in. I do not like to see you like this."
Sereda thought of dwarven politics, her Father and her brothers all at once, a rushing, tangled bunch of memories snarled too deeply into her psyche to even cut away neatly and deal with rationally. So she lied to him. "I'll try."
Alistair swallowed her pretty fib despite himself, knowing she would always be guarded. All he could do was remain there unconditionally, no matter how much she protested.