Sleepless
Alistair staggered out of his tent, feeling his muscles slowly unclench as the cool night air ghosted across his face. Clammy sweat beaded his brow from the nightmares. Blasted, Maker-cursed dragon, he thought. With a heavy sigh, he wandered over to the camp fire. He noticed a small figure huddled near the crackling flames.
"Bad dreams, huh?" He smiled a little as his fellow Warden jumped. Leah turned a little as he sat on a sturdy log.
"They're horrifying! One might think that smell wouldn't translate through dreams, but that archdemon has such an awful odor I swear I can almost taste it," she complained, flashing a bright grin his way. Alistair sighed. Not this again, he thought irritably. The mage's frivolity concerning all things Blight would make anyone cranky. Even beyond that, something about Leah Amell made his mood darken and his jokes run for the hills every time she came near.
Not trusting himself to say anything nice, Alistair settled on a noncommittal grunt.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Alistair couldn't help but sneak brief glances at the mage-Warden every once in a while. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something, rolling it around in her mouth as though she were tasting the words before letting them drop. For once her bright, girlish grin was gone. It left her face looking strangely vulnerable.
"Do you ever hear it… singing to you?" she finally asked.
"Singing?" That startled a chuckle out of the almost-templar. "As in, 'cutesy campfire sing-alongs'?"
Leah's large dark eyes found his and Alistair's laughter fled as quickly as it had come. He'd never seen her look so… haunted.
"More like a war chant, like he's calling us… or egging us on," she replied darkly. "Like he's just moving us forward like pawns." Alistair was speechless.
"I… no, I've never heard anything like that," he murmured. He immediately felt bad for the way the mage seemed to shrink in on herself.
"Oh."
Silence fell over them once more. Alistair found himself studying the girl sitting beside him. She had never seemed old in the slightest, but now, with her carefree mask dislodged, she seemed even younger than before. She sighed, and Alistair felt an inexplicable urge to touch her arm, to comfort her in some way. What is going on with me tonight? he wondered.
Leah finally stirred. She shot a rueful look at him. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make you to feel like you need to stay awake just for my sake," she said formally. A bitterly amused note crept into her voice. "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep again tonight. Not alone."
A blush crept up Alistair's cheeks. Did she mean that she usually…? A short laugh startled the templar into glancing back at the other Warden.
"Not like that," she chuckled. Alistair blushed even brighter. Leah gazed back at the fire, a faint smile on her face. "Back at the Tower, all the apprentices slept in the same room, cavern more like, in bunk beds. No matter when you went to sleep, you were always surrounded by the sounds of everyone. The apprentices snoring, or muttering in their sleep, or shifting around…" Leah trailed of wistfully.
"Look, uh, if you want…" Alistair's mouth was moving without permission. A pair of bright blue eyes met his curiously.
"If I want…?"
"You could, um, sleep in my tent. With me." Alistair winced. Maker, if you're there, now would be a great time to smite me.
A gentle hand squeezed his arm. Leah's eyes were filled with mirth, and was that... gratitude? Why yes, it seemed that was. "Thanks, Alistair," she said, not quite seriously, but at the very least sincerely. An extraordinarily befuddled Alistair led the mage-Warden back to his tent. Leah grinned at him and curled up next to his armor. He scooted to the edge of his sleeping roll and curled against the wall of the tent, thinking that this was just too weird for him to be able to drop off. Leah's soft breaths came from the other side of the cramped tent in the slow rhythm of sleep. I can see how she would find this soothing, he thought groggily. Moments later, he too was asleep.
~oOo~
A soft twitter of birdsong woke Alistair from the best sleep he'd had since the Blight had begun. He sighed in contentment, sleepily moving his arm to cradle Leah's shoulders. Wait. Do what? Alistair jerked fully awake and then blushed so warmly he thought his ears might be steaming.
Somehow during the course of the night, Leah had rolled three feet and ended up snuggled against his chest. Her head was being pillowed by his shoulder, and... Holy Maker, was one of her legs between his? Maker, kill me now, he thought. Pressed against her as he was, Alistair couldn't help but note that she smelled nice. Is that vanilla?
Leah chose that exact moment to wake, stirring gently before looking up at the Warden she was pressed against. Alistair could feel the tremor of chuckles shake her. "Good morning," she chirped, as if nothing was amiss. The almost-templar remembered his wayward arm and removed it quickly.
"I, uh, hope you slept well," he stammered, knowing he was probably red as a tomato. Leah grinned at him.
"Very well, thanks. You make a great pillow." Alistair would gladly have faced an army of darkspawn naked if it gave him the chance to escape that tent. Leah flashed her cheeky smile at him. "Well, time for breakfast!" she declared, and slipped out of the tent before Alistair could do anything to stop her. He cringed as he heard the mage greet the elf and the bard in very loud dulcet tones.
He wondered if it would be possible to fight the Blight from inside his tent. Not likely, he concluded glumly. There was nothing for it but to go out there and face the stupid, nice-smelling mage and her posse of hecklers.
First smart comment and I'm feeding them to the darkspawn.
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