The month passed slowly as she counted the days until she could see her lover once again. The notes certainly helped to pass the time, little reminders that she was always in his thoughts. She responded to every one. Though they could not see one another, keeping in touch helped to foster the closeness they already felt.

After what seemed like years, they finally arrived in Denerim. They were guests of the King, and thus invited to stay in the palace. The Chargers opted to stay in the city instead, preferring less stifling accommodations.. After they settled in, they were all taken to the dining hall for supper to dine with King in greeting.

When their eyes met, it felt electric. Butterflies danced in her belly, even as a dull, burning flame consumed below. They greeted one another appropriately and politely, just as they greeted others present. Prominent Orlesian nobles were in attendance, those that had arrived early for the ball. It was said that Empress Celene would even be in attendance at the ball itself, though would not linger long.

Getting through dinner was agonizing. Even there, the Game started, conversation turning from inane and pointless to intrusive and analyzing. The Inquisitor handled it as well as she could, managing to stay ahead enough to not embarrass herself, though was no master.

All through dinner she was so focused on watching Alistair from the corner of her eye that she never noticed Cullen's steady gaze upon her.

In a kind gesture and a vested interest in the safety of the King, the Chargers had been arranged to be in charge of guard duty to the King's room that night. It had been to the dismay of the Guard Captain, but was convinced of conceding the post when the Chargers had been presented as security specialists, skilled in the defense against foreign threats. Not that they could deny the change in guard if the King appointed it. Still, best not to step harder on toes than necessary.

She had confided in Bull and Krem about her relationship to the king, knowing they could keep their mouths shut and help out. As she came to the King's door, she was glad to not have to sneak about any longer. After all, the strange and foreign castle seemed like a damn maze, and infiltration was damn difficult when you had a hard time finding your way around.

"Hey, Boss," Bull waved, looking up from the cards in his hand. They had set up a little table in the hallway, amusing themselves to pass the time.

"Boss," Krem nodded.

"Bull. Krem," she smirked, strolling to the door. "You know if the Guard Captain sees you playing cards, he's going to have a fit."

Bull inclined his head, clearly unconcerned. "If he sees us. Dalish has a warning system set up. Handy to have a mage around."

From around a corner, a distant, small voice cried out, "It's a bow!"

Bull ignored it. "Anyway, we've got things handled out here. You go have fun."

"Thank you, Bull."

"Boss, you're paying me way too much money for this. Believe me, it's no problem."

Stifling a giggle, she pressed into the room, quickly locking the door behind her. The moment she turned around, a strong body collided with hers, pinning her roughly against the door. A thick and muscled leg parted her, firm against her groin. A hot mouth was over hers, taking advantage of a startled gasp to plunge in a hungry tongue. She sighed into the kiss, melting against the wood.

When the kiss broke, Alistair took her hand, drawing her towards the bed. His quarters were enormous, though fairly plain in decor. Several dressers and armoires dotted the walls, along with tapestries. Another door was opposite the room, presumably leading to a bathing chamber. A large fireplace cast a warm glow over the room, turning the plain chambers into something much more welcoming. His sizeable bed was covered in furs and blankets, neatly made. Beside the bed was a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"I brought wine," he began explaining as he pushed her onto his bed. She laid back, hands reacquainting themselves his his chest, his shoulders, coming then to fumble at his tunic. "I was going to be so romantic. We would talk." He removed the offending garment for her, working at her clothing immediately afterward in quick, frantic, jerking motions. "Have a drink. Then I'd take you to bed. I find myself unable to wait for the last part, so we're skipping ahead."

They tore off the remainder of their clothing, crashing together once it had come undone. Tongues wrestled, drinking one another in, starved in the months they'd been apart. When he broke their kiss, it was to turn her onto her belly and tug her hips upwards, raising her rounded backside into the air.

Pushed forward thusly, she found her face in his pillows, his scent enveloping her like a warmth blanket. She had been so deprived for months and now he was all around her, seeping into all her senses, driving her mad.

Hot breath over her backside, he pressed feverish kisses across her bottom, trailing his way to her sex. He buried his face in her, long nose pressed to the tight, little pucker of her anus, tongue broad and firm over her folds. His thumbs pried her open, tongue dipping into the deepest places it could reach, drawing out every ounce of her nectar he could reach.

She whimpered beneath him, writhing under his touch. "A-alistair!" she cried when he settled over her button, sucking hard at the thing, nose caressing as his head rocked. He was relentless in his assault, and anticipation combined with the overwhelming stimulation proved to be too much. Heat and tension coiled into a spring, tight and wound, until it was released.

She bucked hard back against his face, his long nose dipping into her opening, thoroughly coating his face with her juices. Allowing her no time to recover, he pressed himself against her, slickening himself in the aftermath of her orgasm, then plunged himself in.

He rolled his hips forward in slow, languid motions at first, grinding himself roughly into her core. She was so warm around him it nearly burned, and he found himself with little patience that evening. Soon he was hilting himself at frantic speeds, his hips colliding with her rear in a series of loud slaps.

One arm coiled around her waist, reaching down slide his fingers over her button, pressing firm circles around her engorged head. His full weight pressed into her back as his other hand slid up her belly to seize a breast, rolling and pinching her nipple between his large fingers.

Trevelyan found herself in the throes of another orgasm, her muscles clamping down on his length, coaxing him to his own completion. Roaring out his release, he pulled himself from her, spilling himself across her backside.

They fell to their sides, Alistair coiled around her, pressed to her back. When he caught his breath, his lips pressed kisses to her shoulder blades, murmuring against her skin, "Maker, I missed you so much."

She turned to face him, draping a leg over his hips to pull him closer. "I still can't believe you're entertaining Orlesians just to see me."

"You had better appreciate it. This whole affair with the ball is going to be terrible," he groaned. "They're like spiders. Makes you want to set the whole palace on fire and build a new one somewhere else."

Laughing, she pressed kisses all over his face. "Oh, Alistair! If you take your arms off me tonight I'll attend your ball naked to embarrass you."

"No, see, now I'm confused. That makes me want to do it just to see that."

"Try it," she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the rich scent she'd come to love.

Humming his laughter, he conceded, "I hear it is unwise to cross the Inquisitor. I'll behave."

Coiled against one another, they let wandering hands refamiliarize themselves. Finally content in ways they hadn't been in months, they both felt able to relax at long last.

"My sweet," Alistair suddenly adopted a strange tone. "I have to ask. What has happened with your Commander?"

"What?" she asked. "Cullen?"

"Yes," he murmured into her hair. "Did something happen?"

Perplexed, her brow creased in a frown. "No. Why do you ask?"

"Because he was staring at you all night. A bit like a mabari staring at a steak." Alistair shifted down to peer into her lovely eyes, wanting to read her face as they spoke. "Scarcely took his eyes off you. It made me wonder, if…"

"No! Goodness, no," she felt a tightness in her chest, anxious about speaking about the Commander to her lover.

"You sound upset," he observed, brow knitting in worry.

"No…" she scowled, unable to look him in the eye.

"My dear," he spoke in a scolding tone. "You're not telling me something, and it injures me."

"I…" she bit her lip nervously. "I might have had some feelings for him."

"Had?" Alistair shot her a dubious look.

"Have! Maker, how do you do that!" she grimaced.

"It's a talent. With you, anyway," he muttered. "So. You have feelings for him."

"You...you aren't upset?" she searched his face.

"Strangely enough, I'm not," he scowled, clearly perplexed by it himself. "Which I find odd, because my feelings for you are...rather sincere. But I want to know more."

Heat settled in her cheeks, face flushed in embarrassment. "Oh. I've never...this is new." Drawing in a deep breath, she sighed. "I...I have had feelings for Cullen for some time. I think at one point he had feelings for me, but we were at war, and it would have made things so complicated-"

"Oh, he's still interested. I know that look," he smirked.

"He...he what?" she was bewildered.

"You daft girl," he chided gently, tapping her nose. "Anyone with eyes ought to be interested in you."

"Well...I suppose it's too late anyway," she said sullenly, curling into his chest as though she were suddenly cold.

"Is it?"

"I...perhaps? Maybe I'm being too presumptuous about our relationship," she felt a sudden urge to retreat. "I thought…"

Alistair propped himself up on his elbow, knuckles stroking her soft cheek gently. "No, I...I care for you a great deal. I don't want this to end. I just…" his gaze fell as he struggled for the words. "I just...somehow...don't mind if you...wanted us both." He blushed, sheepish as he spoke. "The Commander is a good man, and I believe he would treat you well, which is all I can ask for. If there's anything I've learned in life, it's to take hold of whatever happiness you can find. Maker knows you'll never know how long you'll have it."

"Alistair!" her mouth fell agape, shocked at what he was suggesting. "Are...are you certain? I mean, I don't really know if he even really…"

His lips touched to hers reassuringly. "Oh, I'm certain on both counts. That man has it bad."

This was a lot to consider for the Inquisitor. Mind reeling, she tucked herself into her lover, thinking on what he'd said. "I...I have to ask one more time. Are you sure? I couldn't bear to lose you."

"I'm certain, but there is a condition," he said quite seriously.

"What?"

"Never lie to me about it," his tone was stern. "I want us to be honest with one another."

"Yes! Yes, of course," she set a hand on his face, searching his eyes. "Maker, do you have any idea how lucky I feel to be with you?"

"Likely as lucky as I feel to be with you," he beamed. "So when will you talk to him?"

Heart pounding, she heaved a sigh, eyes wide and she considered it. "Andraste preserve me. What am I going to say?"

"I find it's most helpful to start with 'hello', and then make it up as you go from there," he cocked a brow, mocking in his crooked smile.

"But...but...I mean, I'll have to tell him about us!" she stammered, mind reeling. "Maker, he's...he'll never want to speak to me again after that."

"Aren't you deciding his answer for him? That's hardly fair to the poor man." Sitting up, he slid himself off the bed, taking in hand the wine bottle to unstop it. "Wine?"

"Maker, yes," she groaned, hands pressing to her face. "He's going to think I'm deviant."

Alistair poured them both glasses of wine and returned to bed. "My lady, you are deviant. I can certainly vouch for that."

She sat up to accept the glass, downing half its contents instantly. Setting the glass to the side afterwards, she refocused upon him, mischievous, half-lidded eyes drinking him in as he lie there, reclining attractively over furs and pelts, wine bringing a blush to his cheeks and a stain to his lips. "You certainly enable my deviance. I'll speak to Cullen, you wicked man. Now enough about him. I haven't seen you in months, and I'm not nearly half done saying hello."

He drained his wineglass quickly, setting his own glass to the side. "You certainly don't have to tell me twice. I've still got your scent on my face, and it's driving me mad."