Last night I was thinking about what a reunion between Miora (my warden mage) and Alistair would be like post- Awakening. She recruited Loghain, resulting in Alistair pretty much abandoning her to go marry Anora, as well as some post battle hostility. But they did and still do honestly love each other and I figured that after a few months to a year, they would be able to reconcile.
Alistair sighed, running his fingers through his hair and eying the clock in the corner of his study. It's face read eleven fifty, meaning that she would be here in ten minutes. She was many things, but tardy was not one of them. He glared at the clock with the faint hope that he could stare time into submission, only to be proved wrong by the seconds continuing to tick down far faster than he would have liked.
Leaning against his desk, he poured himself a glass of wine; a gift from Lelianna after his coronation, draining the glass and glancing back at the clock. Eleven fifty-five.
Maker's breath, get it together. You're the king of Ferelden, not some green recruit.
He had been king for nearly a year now and to everyone's surprise, especially his own, he was actually quite good at it. He didn't have Anora's expert grasp of politics, not yet, but he could lead and inspire his men and had a way with the common people that only someone raised outside of the nobility could manage. With Anora's urging, he had even managed to cow the few nobles who dared vocalize their dislike of having a bastard and a commoner on Ferelden's throne.
So why was the thought of seeing Her making his palms sweat?
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
"Yes?" he called, smoothing his hair and taking a deep breath
"Your Majesty, Warden Commander Amell is here." said his secretary, with a slight bow
"Thank you Finnick, you may send her in."
When she entered the room, the scent of lavender followed her. She moved towards him and smiled, dipping into a curtsy that rivaled that of any highborn lady.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty."
"Lady Amell," the words felt strange on his tongue, to forced and formal, "it is good to see you."
He took a seat at his desk, glad for the barrier between them. Still, it was closer than they had been in months. The last time he had seen her she had worn armor and a messy ponytail, covered in darkspawn blood and drenched by the Amaranthine rains. Now, she stood before him in a dress of black velvet with silver embroidery, a fur cloak fastened around her shoulders with a silver griffin pin. Her snowy white hair fell down her back in loose curls. Maker, she was beautiful.
"- Amaranthine."
"Sorry what?" he said, pulled back by the sound of her voice
Her lips twitched slightly, "Distracted Your Majesty?"
Maker I wish she would stop calling me that, "Me? No, of course not. er, what were you saying?"
"I was saying that I have the reports from Amaranthine." she replied, placing a roll of parchment on his desk.
"Thank you." he said, breaking the seal
He unrolled the parchment, scanning the report written in her delicate scrawl . She was nothing if not meticulous, taking care to describe events in detail.
"All this in six months?" he muttered
"Darkspawn don't take vacations," Miora said, "they're funny that way."
He continued reading until-
"You burned Amaranthine?" Why in the Maker's name would you do that?"
Her eyes flashed, icy blue steel. "Did you miss the part where the entire city was overrun, Your Majesty?"
"Still, there must have been something you could have done that didn't require destroying Amaranthine. There were people in there, not just darkspawn!"
"Don't you think I know that? We were being attacked on both fronts, I had to make a choice. The city was a lost cause, and the keep could not be lost. A choice had to be made and I made it."
" Oh yes, a choice had to be made," he said, "funny how when you make choices people end up dead. Or betrayed. Funny that."
He almost regrets his words when he sees the flash of pain in her eyes break through the anger. Almost.
"Betrayal?" she laughs, but it is devoid of humor, " yes, let us talk of betrayal,Your Majesty. My choices have caused the deaths of innocents, I will not deny it, but at least no one can accuse me of cowardice or desertion."
"What are you getting at?" He growled, rising form his chair, " are you calling me-"
"Who else left their comrades, Ferelden and the woman they claimed to love to the mercy of the darkspawn horde just because they couldn't have their way?"
Her words struck him, cutting deeper than nay blade possibly could. She was wrong though, he had done his duty. He had followed her and been loyal to her above all others, would have followed her into the Black City had she asked it. She had repaid him with betrayal and made a mockery of the wardens by letting that monster into their midst and he told her as much.
She responded by laughing at him. It was a cold, nearly crazed kind of laughter that made his hair stand on end. Rounding the desk, he strode over to her and grabbed her by her arms.
"Stop it," he ordered, giving her a small shake, "damn it Miora, stop it right now!"
She quieted somewhat, still shaking with repressed giggles as she looked up at him, " I apologize, Your Majesty. That was unworthy of me, but you have to see the irony."
"Irony."
"I did what I did to save you," she replied, "and I ended up losing you anyway. The Maker has a awful sense of humor."
She pulled herself out of his grasp and made her way to the window, " Do you know how an Archdemon is killed? Why Grey Wardens are needed?"
She turned to face him, a smile on her lips though her eyes blazed with a quiet rage, "You were right, about my decisions. I sent Loghain to his death. I knew, and I did it anyway."
"Loghain died of his wounds-"
"Died of his wounds?" she repeated mockingly, "honestly, even you can't be that thick. I figured it out during the blight, during our stay in Redcliff. Riorden proved me right and clarified some things."
"Miora, what are you talking about?"
" Don't you see," she snapped, "every warden that slew an Archdemon supposedly 'died of their wounds' because no warden can survive it. The archdemon's soul goes into the warden who lands to killing blow and both are destroyed."
He let her words wash over him. If what she said was true then-
"No, you're wrong. Duncan would have told-"
Her hand met his face with enough force to send him stumbling into the desk.
"Why can't you just accept that Duncan isn't the shining knight you thought he was! That the wardens aren't just a shining beacon of goodness and virtue," she yelled, advancing on him " we do what we must. I realized that after Redcliff. Everyone wants to be a hero, but no one ever understands what that really means."
"Miora calm down-"
"We aren't heroes Alistair," she continued, her voice beginning to break, "we're survivors. All we try to do is keep living until we can't anymore. The price is a mountain of corpses and endless regret. Even the people you think you can trust will turn on you once they see what you really are."
He stood there watching as the tears began to fall, as her body shuddered with each breath and she hung onto the edge of his desk like it was an anchor.
Maker, she was right, wasn't she? She had done what was needed and he had left her to possibly die alone while he went to claim a throne he didn't even want. She had saved his life and he had repaid her by deserting her when she had needed him most. And for what?
"Miora," he said, slowly approaching her, "Maker, I'm so sorry. Please, stop crying."
His heart dropped when she pulled away from him, but what did he expect? Instead he sat down on the floor beside her. Eventually, he managed to pull her into his arms and held her while she sobbed. Soon, she quieted, and pulled away again; turning to look at him.
"I was so scared after you left," she whispered, "all I could think of is how likely it was that I would die and you weren't there. During the battle, I considered rushing into the thick of it and just getting it over with, but I - I couldn't. Loghain actually made sure that I made it to that tower, and I was so grateful but it felt wrong. Because it should have been you."
"I know." he replied, brushing her hair behind her ear, "I'm here now."
She moved fast, shoving him against the wall so hard that he was sure she had given him a concussion, "Oh, so you think it's ok now? 'Sorry I left you to die ALONE, but I'm here now that you've become a complete head case'!"
"No that's not-"
Suddenly he found her lips pressed against his own. Hesitantly, he returned the kiss, groaning as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down a little harder than usual. Her fingers raked through his hair as he pulled her onto his lap, pulling his head back as she trailed kisses over his jaw and down his neck.
"Miora what- are you sure about this?"
She pulled back and smirked, "Nice to see you haven't changed too much."
Before he could utter another word she crushed his mouth with her own, hands busy with the buttons on his shirt and roaming over his bare skin. Following suit, he unfastened the clasp of her cloak and let it fall, exposing her neck, shoulders and the swell of her breasts. He fiddled with the laces of her bodice until she sighed in frustration.
"There's a dagger strapped to my thigh," she breathed, nibbling on his earlobe
"You want me to cut your dress open?"
"Is that really the strangest part of this conversation?"
Good point, he thought as he slid his hand up her leg. Unsheathing the dagger, he slid it beneath the fabric of her bodice and sliced through it. The ruined dress fell around her waist, leaving her top half naked.
Taking one of her breasts in his hand, her rolled his thumb over her nipple, making her gasp, before taking it into his mouth. She swore, when he used his teeth while the other hand mimicked what his mouth was doing. She moaned tossing her head back, her hips moving against his erection.
Grabbing a handful of her hair, he pulled her down and kissed her; his tongue caressing hers as he tasted her. She responded in kind, digging her nails into his shoulders and kissing him back hard enough to bruise. At the same time, one hand lazily made it's way down his chest ,over the expanse of his stomach and paused at the waist of his trousers, fingers occasionally dipping below the fabric.
"Miora," he gasped, "Miora please."
She chuckled, sliding her hand further down. He sighed as her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking ever so lightly. She kissed him once more before taking his hand and guiding it beneath her skirts. Pushing her smalls aside, he slid two fingers into her and found her sopping wet.
She cried out, burying her face in his neck to muffle it, as he curled his fingers inside of her while his thumb circled her clit until he could feel her shuddering with pleasure. Withdrawing, he laid her down and undid the laces on his pants, freeing himself. He then pulled her underwear down her legs and tossed them aside before moving between her legs. At the last minute however, he found himself on his back. Miora climbed on top of him, and slid down on his cock; sighing as she rocked her hips back and forth in a way that made him almost delirious with pleasure. He grasped her hips, thrusting upwards and causing her to moan and cry out, neither one of them caring who could hear them anymore.
She leaned down, kissing him and stroking his hair as she continued to move against him. He was so lost in her that it took him a minute to realize that she was speaking, barely above a whisper, repeated like a prayer.
Don't leave me
He took her face in his hands, meeting her eyes which were bright with unshed tears, "Never."
He flipped her onto her back, enveloping her in his arms as he thrust, sprinkling kisses over her face and neck and whispering in her ear. She respond by holding him tight as she writhed beneath him, arching as the first wave of orgasm took her with a loud cry of ecstasy, followed by his own groan of completion.
The two of them lay there, gasping for breath and entangled in each others arms. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.
"This may be an odd time to mention this," She said, stretching, "but I've been thinking of giving up the mantle of Warden Commander. Nice as it is being Arlessa, I've grown a bit tired of the death and constant battles."
He sighed, "Well, so long as you name a successor, I see no issue with it. Perhaps the job of chancellor would be more your speed?"
She paused, turning to face him "Are you sure Eamon wont mind?"
"Eamon will deal with it," Alistair replied, "he and Anora don't see eye to eye anyway. You would be a much better choice and you could have your own rooms here in the palace..."
"Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?"
"Good," he said, kissing her, "now that you're back, I do not intend to let you get away again. I love you, Miora Amell. Unworthy of you as I may be. I plan to work my entire life to make you happy."
"I'm holding you to that," she said, then glancing down at the tattered remains of her dress, "perhaps we should start with a new gown."