The sun was bright, midmorning, when he opened his eyes. His new bedroom in the Vigil was high up in the westernmost tower of the castle, and so he rarely got to see the morning sun before he was up and getting ready for the day.

Today was different, though. He'd been given the opportunity to sleep in, to relax. It was rare for him and very welcome.

Lance Cousland wiped the sleep from his eyes, and scanned his room, smiling to himself at how ornate and plush his surroundings were, how uncharacteristically rich everything was. Anyone that knew him well would know that he didn't care for that sort of luxury, despite his privileged upbringing. It was just a quirk of his.

Of course, he hadn't been the decorator. No, this time last year he was sleeping in a much smaller cell much lower in the tower. He hadn't bothered to decorate then, leaving everything as bare as it had been when he decided to live there.

So much could happen in a year.

No, he was doing alright now. The Arl of Amaranthine, Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Everything was okay now.

He stretched lightly, buried his back into the soft bed that he now slept in.

Morrigan stirred, made a content sound in her throat, nuzzling him in her sleep.

He grinned to himself, allowed a small chuckle as he turned on his side to better face her, to hold her hand even as she reached out to find him.

She furrowed her brow, dreaming. Not for the first time he wondered what she was thinking of, what she was dreaming about. He hoped it was him. He hoped it was nice.

It was so strange to see her like this, to see her dreaming in such an innocent, vulnerable state. She wore an air of confidence throughout the day, ready to mock anything that didn't live up to her standards of self-reliance and strength. She was gifted with a sharp tongue, a keen mind, and she had no qualms about using them to insult.

But here she was, sleeping, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile.

He couldn't help but reach up, touch her smooth cheek, trace those full lips with his thumb.

"Wake up," he whispered. She didn't hear him. "Wake up, beautiful."

That got a response. She took his hand, squeezed it lightly. She didn't open her eyes though, she wasn't really awake.

Lance wriggled down, put himself eye-to-eye with her. He kissed her, lightly.

"Are you awake yet?"

She smiled, but refused to open her eyes.

She said, "No."

Lance grinned even wider. He tried to cuddle closer to her, but she simply turned on her side, put her back to him.

"Don't play hard to get," he said, and he began to kiss her shoulder amorously. She laughed, low and musical and just the sort of sound that set him off.

"I do not 'play'," she said. "I simply am."

"Oh, I don't think so," said Lance, moving to kiss her neck. She responded to that, even if she didn't want to. Just another one of those things about her he loved. It was hard to find much that he didn't.

"You would not," she said. She turned to lay on her back, to look up at him. "Normally… I would not play such games."

"Well I'm just glad to be the exception."

"You would be."

Lance stared down at her for a moment, into her eyes. He was in love, he realized again. He knew it, and told her often, but every morning it was like a new to him – the sudden realization that he was in love with her.

But he wasn't the first to say it, not this time.

"I love you," she said. And he grinned even wider. They kissed, spent several moments together.

"You want to have a good morning?" he asked. She rolled her eyes at such a question.

"Yes, my love," she said with exaggerated frustration. "I would indeed enjoy a 'good morning'. You must have unfathomable powers of perception."

"Do you know how sexy I find your sarcasm?"

"I suppose, then, that we are a… perfect match."

"Suppose so," said Lance and kissed her again. As usual, what was meant to be a simple gesture became more passionate, more insistent.

She moaned into it, and he was kicking away the blankets to allow himself easier access.

She wore a loose fitting shirt of his to bed, and he was lifting up the hem. He touched her flat, taut stomach, moving down to kiss her navel and other parts as foreplay. She sighed contentedly, reached down to massage his neck and encourage him.

There was a knock at the door.

Lance groaned.

"In the middle of something!" he called. Morrigan giggled.

"Not yet," she corrected. He narrowed his eyes at her but welcomed her mischief. He loved that.

"Sorry, Commander," said Velanna on the other side of the door. She was a good friend to him, and one-time lover, but she sure had one awful sense of timing. "I have an urgent letter to deliver."

"Again?"

"Yes, again."

"Damn," Lance muttered, moving to step out of the bed. He grabbed up his trousers from the floor and pulled them up. To Morrigan, he said, "Don't you dare go anywhere."

She simply smiled and impersonated an innocent girl. He knew better.

He opened the door, stepped out into the hallway where Velanna stood, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever embarrassing activities the two had been up to. She knew, of course, and just got a kick out of making him uncomfortable.

"What is it?" Lance asked her. She gave him that slight, sweet smile she so rarely offered. She pushed the envelope into his hands, the seal of the collective Bannorn shining bright red against the yellowed parchment.

"Oh, wonderful," said Lance. Velanna nodded.

"The shemlen lords demand your attention."

He smirked at her joke. She'd long since given up hating humanity but she still liked to poke fun at the nobles Lance nominally controlled. He didn't blame her.

"Why me? Why don't they go bother Alistair?" he asked. Velanna snorted.

"You're the Hero of Ferelden. And their Arl. They think you can get done what they want done. It's sad, really."

"Sad for me or for them?" Lance asked and ripped open the envelope. He scanned the three page letter, not bothering to read it fully.

"Anything interesting?"

"Civil unrest, the usual," said Lance. "Well, no. Not actual unrest. Just 'raised tensions'. They want me to send Grey Wardens to monitor the situation."

"Will you?"

"Just as soon as I find that elusive flying pig," said Lance. He crumpled the letter up in his fist. "Not my problem."

He turned to leave, but hesitated.

He tried to straighten out the paper, wring out the creases.

"Actually," he said. "Could you mail this on ahead to the King? Put a note on there that I don't want to deal with it?"

Velanna took the paper, stuffed it in her belt.

"Yes, sir," said with a mock salute. Lance winced at that. He wasn't much for ordering around his Wardens, especially not the ones he was close to.

"Sorry," he said. "I can do it myself."

"No, I'll do it," said Velanna. "You take it easy today."

Her gaze was suddenly soft, the look on her face somehow comforting and genuinely sympathetic. He wasn't quite sure why but anytime he could get a sincere expression out of her was a victory in his book.

"Thanks," said Lance with a raise of his eyebrow.

Velanna nodded to the door.

"Your girl is waiting for you," she said. "Busy morning."

Lance grinned sheepishly. He turned and entered his room.

Morrigan lay there, blankets aside, with a come-hither look on her face.

"I hope you have settled your business," she said.

"I have."

"Then come here."