Alistair sat by the fire, eyelids drooping, head lolling forwards. His sword and shield rested beside him. It was his turn to keep watch, and he was doing a damn terrible job of it.
But he was so tired...
He shook himself awake for what must've been the eighth time. His eyes stung with the smoke and exhaustion. No one could blame him if he fell asleep, he reasoned. The night before he had had a horrid nightmare, with the Arch Demon looming close to his face, gnashing its teeth and spraying bloodied spittle everywhere. Its blank white eyes rolled madly in the dark and someone was screaming in his ears over and over. It was a horrible scream, one that curdled and grew higher and louder every time he thought it would even out. He woke in a cold sweat, heart thumping madly and feeling like he might be sick. (He was.)
He doubted Morrigan would accept it as a good reason, though. Probably make fun of him and say he was "whiny" or "immature" or whatever. He scowled at the fire. He'd like to see her last one night with the nightmares that plagued him. Sten made fun of him (well, it wasn't really making fun. He was just condescending as hell) too, but honestly, nobody could needle him like Morrigan could.
Alistair rested his chin on his knees. His eyelids were leaden, his head swimming. He wondered if Eliza had as much trouble as he did. It was embarrassing, how much he thought of her. Every time he did something he would ask himself what Eliza would do. What would Eliza say? How would she react? He had never heard so much as a peep from her tent. Most Grey Wardens he knew in the past were noisy sleepers; they mumbled or moaned in their sleep, and some screamed, and he did know of some Grey Wardens who seized up in their beds, unable to make a sound while gripped in the throes of their nightmares.
...Oh. That was a terrible thought. What if that were happening right now? He fidgeted nervously. He'd want someone to wake him up if that happened. Nightmares were one thing: you usually wake up before anything terrible happens. But being unable to? That was worse. But what if she was sleeping peacefully for once? Then he'd feel awful for waking her. He rubbed his forehead. She's fine, he told himself firmly, and he concentrated on the fire.
Against his better judgement, his mind wandered back to Eliza. He imagined her face contorted in terror, her fingers clenching the sheets, shaking like a leaf and crying silently. Alone. Afraid. Unable to tell what was real and what wasn't. The look on her face was like a punch to the gut, imaginary or no.
Alistair jumped up and went to Eliza's tent. He paused outside of it and listened carefully.
He couldn't hear anything over the crackle of the fire.
"Eliza?" He called, barely raising his voice over a whisper. He got no response.
"Eliza?" He repeated, a little louder this time. Still no answer. Biting his lip and feeling like an evil lecher, he slowly eased open the flap and poked his head in.
Firelight slanted from behind him and through the flap, a shaft of light in the dark that illuminated her sleeping figure. She lay on her side, facing him, chest slowly rising and falling. Her red hair was fanned out on the pillow beneath her.
Oh. She was alright.
Face burning (honestly, what would she say if she knew he was there?) he slowly eased backwards.
"Mmm..."
He froze. Eliza shifted, face contorting a bit. Then he noticed he had accidentally let the light fall across her face.
Dammit! He fumbled with the flap, trying to shut it and keep the light out and escape at the same time.
"Alistair?"
Shit.
Eliza sat up, squinting, rubbing her temples.
"What are you doing in here?"
"Uh, well, I just-" If she hits you, you totally deserve it, he thought. Tell the truth. That's the least creepy option anyway.
"I just was thinking about darkspawn nightmares and wanted to make sure you were okay," he blurted. Eliza kept squinting at him, and his face burned. She shook her head.
"You dweeb. Come sit down."
"Uh, are you sure-?"
"Yes, quite," she said, patting the bedroll beside her. Alistair walked over and sat down beside her, face still hot as an iron.
"Sorry, about that," he mumbled. "Just wanted to make sure..."
Eliza laughed and shook her head.
"You're sweet, Alistair. I'm alright."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course," she said. "I have some experience in dealing with nightmares."
Alistair frowned. "What do you mean?" She hadn't been a Warden for that long.
Eliza ducked her head suddenly.
"Oh, I... It's hard to explain," she said. "I wouldn't expect you to get it."
"Is that a challenge?" Alistair asked, raising his eyebrows. Eliza laughed again. He'd act like a blithering idiot for that laugh.
"No," she said. "But I suppose you have a right to know. You are my friend..."
A warm glow settled in his stomach. She considered him her friend. Silly, but it felt good.
"Don't take this to mean I'm horribly messed up inside, okay? I mean, it's hard, but I'm alright." She cleared her throat. "Before I was recruited into the Grey Wardens, I lived in Highever with my family. I loved them very much. There was Fergus, my brother, and his wife and child, Oriana and Oren, Mother, Father, Ser Gilmore, Azarte. I even liked Arl Howe a little. And then when he killed my parents, I... I didn't know how to react. It was awful. On the couple of nights I was with Duncan on the way to Ostagar I had nightmares about them. The Joining was a little bit of a relief. It sounds terribly morbid, but the nightmares about the darkspawn were less painful than the ones about my parents, at least in my mind. Picking between the lesser of two evils, is how I would describe it."
Alistair sat there staring at her, who in turn staired at the wall of the tent. The glow in his belly had been crushed to pieces.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Eliza shook out of her reverie and smiled at him. It didn't meet her eyes, though.
"Don't be. Honestly, that's why I avoided telling you. I didn't want you to worry."
"How could I not? Especially after that. I can go, if you want, I mean," Alistair said. "But I'd rather not leave you alone. Wait, that sounds weird."
Eliza sighed. For a second she had a worn, tired expression, but she quickly smothered it.
"It's not weird. I'd do the same for you. You can stay if you like. I just really need to sleep if we're going to Denerim tomorrow."
"Right, of course you do," Alistair said, nodding. "I'll just sit over here. Keep watch. And stuff."
Eliza turned over and lay back down. He scooted towards the flap and sat with his back to her. He listened to her fluff the pillow, adjust the sheets, and settle down. Silence filled the tent, and Eliza's breathing eventually deepened.
Alistair fidgeted. He didn't feel tired anymore, not after what she had said. Minutes passed in silence. He turned and looked over his shoulder, armor rustling loudly. Was she okay? She didn't look like she was having a nightmare.
Stop, that's creepy.
He turned away again and rested his chin on his knees. Back where he started, only feeling antsy and more worried than ever.
He fidgeted again. He was kind of hungry... Vaguely he wondered if he could be quiet enough to sneak into Zevran's tent. He had to hand it to the Antivans, they had some pretty good snacks...
He unconsciously moved again. He heard Eliza sigh loudly, and turned, grimacing guiltily.
"Come here."
"Sorry," he said, scooting closer. He expected her to swat him, but she just held up the covers and patted the bed roll beside her.
"Oh! Uh, thanks, but no thanks, I- I really don't know about that-"
Eliza rolled her eyes.
"Maker's breath, Alistair, I'm not asking you to do that. I just want to cuddle is all."
Alistair's face could've steamed. Never in his life had he ever dared hope for something like this to happen, and now that he was finally confronted with it, he didn't think he was brave enough to get in bed with a girl, even if it wasn't... Like that.
"Well?"
Throwing caution into the wind, he slid off his boots and hauberk, exposing the soft cotton shirt beneath, and wriggled into bed beside her, lying on his side. Eliza tugged the covers up over his shoulder.
"There, see? Not so bad."
He smiled tentatively. A giddy feeling liquified his stomach. "Not bad at all."
His heart constricted into a little tiny ball when she inched closer and rested her forehead on his chest. He hardly dared to breathe.
After a while he calmed down enough to enjoy the moment. Her hair smelled nice... There wasn't a particular way to describe it. It wasn't flowery or perfumey, but it had a comforting scent. Not to mention she looked very beautiful and peaceful, lying there in his shadow, delicate in her nightgown. Slowly he circled his arms around her, searching her face for a sign that he should knock it off, but her expression didn't change. He rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling her warm breath on his neck.
He doubted either of them would have any nightmares tonight.