(A/N: Yay Dragon Age fanfiction. So ok, I don't own this and I never will. Yes this is more Alistair/Aedan or M!Cousland from me. Because I think the demon god baby option is creepy as hell, this is what I came up with instead. Oh, and I don't care what you think about slash, you can click back.)
Awake At Last
Roughened fingers shook with poorly contained emotions as they traced the lines of the raised scar tissue patterns that decorated Aedan's pale, slender back. The young Cousland, almost always in a state of partial awareness those days, made soft noises of appreciation at the comfort the contact gave him, not awake enough to care who gave it. Beside the bed that the young man occupied in his semi-conscious state the distraught King of Fereldan sat, hand hovering in uncertainty, fingers barely brushing that warm flesh. Alistair's concern for his fellow Warden was obvious to anyone that cared to look, and no one ever questioned the time that he spent beside the smaller man each day. Only he knew what had happened. Aedan, having refused the dark plan cooked up by Morrigan and her frightening magic, had landed the final blow on the Arch Demon, a move known only as fatal in Warden History.
So of course Alistair had expected to collect the body, or whatever remained of his companion, he expected to bury Aedan Cousland as a Hero. But the young man had lived, barely, when Alistair found him amidst the blood and gore of the battlefield, the Junior Warden had been unconscious, barely breathing and had a weak but rapid pulse. The scars that now adorned the slender back had been fresh open wounds and more than one had exposed bone to daylight. That had been three months ago, and Aedan's status had hardly improved. He had opened his eyes once or twice, spoken a few vague words now and again, but nothing had indicated a recovery.
Alistair sighed softly, sadness present on his face as he allowed his hand to rest flat against the smaller man's back, savoring the heat of Aedan's skin. The time that he spent at the younger Warden's bedside each day had increased of late, and he hated to think that anyone might have caught on as to why. He didn't want to think about the way the other man made him feel, because it made the reality of not being able to share those emotions all the more painful. They had shared a single desperate but passionate kiss before the final battle. Alistair knew that Aedan had been trying to convey something that he'd never had words for in that action and the Templar liked to think that he'd understood. Suddenly Alistair had known why Morrigan had been refused and why it was not his hand that had landed the final blow.
"You've got to come around sometime Cousland, can't keep avoiding me like this. And when you do wake up…"
"You'll what?" Aedan responded in a groggy tenor, his bright eyes shifting to focus on the Warden King. The younger man had so rarely managed coherent speech that Alistair was startled to hear something aside from baseless noise leave those soft lips. Aedan rolled over slowly and with great effort, it had always been his doctors that rolled him over before, to alleviate the pressure on his joints and prevent sores from forming. Wynne had said that the young Warden was caught in a strange place, a state of simultaneous sleeping and waking. Anyone that he'd gotten an answer from at the Circle had said the same thing, Aedan's mind had been tied to the Fade when he'd slain the Arch Demon, and no one expected him to be back.
"Yell at you for taking so long to wake up. Aedan, are you really awake? Please tell me I haven't drifted off again," Alistair said quietly, a faint note of desperation in his voice as he pinched his forearm sharply to confirm his awake-ness. The soft smile that played over Aedan's smooth lips tugged at the King's heart and he begged the Maker not to taunt him.
"Don't worry, I think I'm back. It's been so dark though, everything's too bright. Come closer Alistair, I don't want to lose sight of you," Aedan said quietly, reaching out hesitantly for the man beside him. Everything was so brilliantly bright after the darkness he had been trapped in inside of the Fade.
The King did not hesitate to climb into the bed with Aedan, drawing the hangings closed to block out as much of the light as he could and settling himself as close to his companion as was possible. A small smile tugged at Alistair's lips when something like shock slid over Aedan's features and a hesitant sort of calm settled over the both of them. Aedan had spent much of the prior three months lost in a world all his own, he had not been privy to the fact that Alistair had had time to think. No, the Junior Warden wouldn't have been able to see the way that Fereldan's lonely King looked on him, or what it meant.
"Aedan, so many times I've dreamed you awake, you have no idea how terribly I need this to be real," Alistair whispered in a desperate tone as his fingers trailed over Aedan's jaw, immaculately stubble free even after three months. The younger man smiled gently, as though he understood what his friend had gone through, and Alistair wondered if he did actually understand when Aedan's lips softly met his own. It was a chaste kiss, and not enough for the King long deprived of the man beside him. Alistair deepened the contact as much as was possible without causing Aedan undue injury. Holding the smaller man close the larger poured every drop of need and desperation that he'd ever felt into that kiss, hoping that Aedan would understand, just as he had.
It was love. Alistair had been granted love three months ago, and he was desperate to return it now. Yes, he loved Aedan.
"Alistair? Oh…by the Maker, Alistair," Aedan Cousland spoke softly and tears trailed down his cheeks as he leaned in and kissed the King again, his lips as firm and confident as they had been before. He hadn't been shunned, and he was somehow alive, and he was with Alistair. The Blight was ended and they had survived, and somewhere, deep in his heart, Aedan hoped that such a truth would grant him at least a year of peace with the man he loved. After all, as a Warden, he knew better than to ask for more.
(A/N: There it is. I finally finished revising the thing in the notebook and this was how it turned out. My Dragon Age fics always sound better once typed up, and I'm glad of that. Let me know what you thought, yes?)