Prompt was Nate/Warden fluff. Mushy confession of feelings, no smut here folks.
They had returned to the Vigil exhausted, covered in grime, darkspawn blood, and Maker knows what else. The keep herself was surprisingly untouched, no doubt due to the amount of gold poured into her reinforcements by Elorwyn Mahariel, their Warden-Commander. She, himself, Anders and Sigrun had saved Amaranthine, killed both the Architect and the Mother, and were now hailed as heroes (twice over for the Commander). Despite everyone's desire to celebrate the victory, the four of them were too tired, and too damn dirty to put up with any cajoling; they all went their separate ways to their rooms, no doubt to bathe and sleep, as he intended.
As he came to the stairwell, he caught sight of Elorwyn out of the corner of his eye. He had never been so affected by a woman before – by anything, really. Cailan had always gone on about the glorious qualities of elves: how lithe they were, the advantage of your partner have extremely sensitive ears, and that they were just the right size to be easy to maneuver in the bedroom. His brother had raved about them as well; Nathaniel really never saw the appeal. While not being a particularly rough lover, he didn't like being with a waif of a woman, fearing he may snap her in half with a few strong thrusts.
Perhaps it had to do with her being Dalish, but she was nothing like the elves he was used to. For one, she had dark skin, a rarity in Ferelden and even rarer amongst her kind, so she had told him. Her eyes were a cold grey-blue, that seemed to pierce through anyone, and Maker forbid she glare at you; he'd rather take on another sodding broodmother than be on the receiving end of that look. That coupled with high cheekbones, vine-like tattoos along her forehead and nose, pointed chin and russet hair coiled into a tight, braided bun at all times, gave her a frighteningly austere demeanor. She was nearly all muscle; not to the point of unattractiveness, but certainly enough to make most men look the other way. No common beauty, in other words.
Nathaniel shook his head and climbed the stairs to his room, long legs carrying him to the door across the hall from his commander's, entering and shutting the door behind him with a sigh. Methodically, he began removing his leathers: first the gauntlets, then the bracers, pauldrons, boots, leggings and finally his breastplate. Not for the first time, he thanked the Maker for the keep's efficient staff, eying the steaming tub in his washroom not unlike a starving man would gaze at a buffet. In a few strides, he was at its side, stripping off his smalls and undershirt, and sinking into the near-scalding water with a satisfied groan.
His eyelids fluttered closed, head leaning back against the edge of the tub, allowing the warm water to seep into his aching muscles. These times of quiet always bothered him, his mind tended to wander, which wasn't something to fret over in most cases, but that was before Elorwyn. They were similar, he and his commander, something he was actually quite grateful for. She was taciturn and intense, but remarkably intelligent and loyal to those she considered to be 'her people'. Nathaniel was fairly certain he had a better sense of humor than she did (he could practically hear Anders snorting at that) but she, too, had a penchant for dry wit.
Shifting in the tub, he grabbed the washcloth hanging to the side and began the arduous task of removing the layers of filth from his body, slowly dragging across his broad shoulders, and kneading into his aching neck. He tried to think about anything but her: running through the patrol schedule, counting the paces from his room to the assembly chamber, how many tumbles it took to unlock the door to his room – none of it worked.
He let out a hiss of pain as he scrubbed over the large bruise on his chest, just below his right pectoral, the pain only serving to remind him what had happened during that terrible battle against 'the Mother'. He had nearly lost her. That thing had swept her away with a broad stroke of one of its tentacles, throwing her against one of the many rocks surrounding the cavern. Nathaniel vaguely recalled crying out for Anders as Sigrun struck the final blow on that disgusting creature. Elorwyn had been crumpled into a heap, unmoving, helmet cracked in half from the impact; Anders had said that she was lucky, he wouldn't have been able to help if she had suffered a head injury like that.
The mage was able to heal the prominent damage, while he bandaged any remaining wounds. As he was wrapping her forearm, the a realization crystallized in his mind, sharp and unrelenting. He wasn't the type of man to dance around what he felt, even if he didn't show it often; Nathaniel didn't lie, least of all to himself. He had seen people die before, friends even, but he had never felt such pure terror and despair until he witnessed the Commander sailing through the air like a rag doll.
He loved her.
He was in love and he almost lost the chance to experience it entirely. He felt his brow draw down as he mercilessly attacked the dirt on his feet; how long had these feelings been lingering? How much time had he wasted? A breath he didn't realize he was holding exhaled sharply, face contorting in contemplation as he ran the cloth over his arms. He was a nobleman's first son, thus he never really considered falling in love; his parents' marriage was evidence that love was a bonus, not a necessity. It was something that was in those storybooks he loathed, an emotion for fools to chase after while they ignore their obligations.
Nathaniel's bathing came to a grinding halt. He was a Grey Warden. Elorwyn was his Commander; did they not have their own obligations? It was their duty to keep the darkspawn at bay, and their motto, even in peace; vigilance... but the monstrosities had been fought back. Now was a time for rebirth; of the Order; of Amaranthine; of Ferelden. Could he really justify not telling her about his feelings? At the very least, didn't she deserve to know he was compromised? If he had to choose between defeating the darkspawn and Elorwyn's life he'd... well, he'd destroy the darkspawn, now that he thought about it. He'd be dead inside, hating himself until the day he died, but he wouldn't dishonor either of them by putting the theoretical 'them' ahead of the safety of Ferelden, or anywhere else on Thedas.
Rising from the tub, he stamped over to the towel on the counter, hastily drying off his body and giving his hair a weak tousle, not bothering to dry it beyond getting the excess water out. More out of routine than of his own volition, his feet took him to his dresser, quickly snatching up a pair of brown trousers and an off-white linen shirt. His mind raced as slipped his slacks on; he was in love, and he wasn't across the hall with the object of his affections. Nathaniel was positive there was some feelings on her side of things, maybe not as deep as his own, but certainly something. Elorwyn laughed when she was around him, seemed less tense and easier to talk to, but only if he was the only one around.
A sigh whooshed out of him as he pulled the shirt on, rolling his eyes at his own stalling. He needed to talk to her, not run every sodding scenario into the ground without even knowing what she felt. Nathaniel hated walking into anything without a plan, but there was little else to do at this point. They needed to get things out in the open now that the immediate threat was dealt with.
Nodding to himself, exited his room, taking purposeful strides across the corridor until he was staring at the sturdy oak door. All he needed to do was knock, but instead he found himself counting the planks, analyzing the lock and coming to the conclusion that he needed to speak to Varel about security, while his hand lingered in the air, curled into a loose fist. Again, he found himself rolling his eyes in exasperation, and with a deep breath, he knocked three times on her door. Clasping his hands behind his back, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet in an impatient gesture, despite having only waited a few seconds.
There was the distinct sound of metal sliding against metal, and the 'click' of a door unlocking, the barrier swinging open soon after. She was clad much the same as he, her trousers being green, but an identical shirt that had been fitted a bit more snugly around her body. Her waist-length brown hair was damp, flowing to the middle of her back, and... she looked more exhausted than he felt.
"Nathaniel." she said in way of greeting, though her voice was soft with fatigue. "Can I do something for you?"
He nodded. "I was hoping to talk to you for a time, Commander... it won't take long."
Elorwyn regarded him with one of those penetrating stares that made gooseflesh rise on his arms, her brow furrowing for a moment before drawing herself up to her full height and inclining her head, obviously going into her 'Commander' mode.
Opening the door the rest of the way, she gestured courteously towards her room. "Of course. Come in, please."
Following her request, Nathaniel glided into her chambers, grey eyes taking in the sparse décor. It was all standard furniture that you'd find in any high-ranking noble's home, complete with a pair of sitting chairs by the fire. The only personal touch Elorwyn gave the room was three small bowls, all filled to the brim with pine cones, the fresh aroma wafting in the air.
The elven woman motioned towards the dying fire, heading off in that direction herself and taking up residence amongst the over-stuffed cushions; he mimicked her actions. As he settled in, allowing himself a soft groan of appreciation when his spine met the back of the chair, he kept his eye on her. There were bags under her eyes, and though she kept her posture rigid, sitting on the edge of her seat, her shoulders were slumped forward ever so slightly; no one else would notice that subtle change in body language but him. The dying embers in the fireplace seemed to be far more interesting than speaking, or even favoring him with a glance.
Despite this, he spoke, leaning heavily on the arm of his chair to get closer to her. "Elorwyn." Using her name instead of her title never failed to get her attention, as such, she turned, settling her tired gaze upon his face. "There's something you and I need address."
Her head bobbed, eyes half-lidded, as if the notion exhausted her even more. "I know," was her reply.
Nathaniel fought the urge to grind his teeth. "Do you, now?"
"Sigrun took it upon herself to tell me how you reacted to my... mishap." she replied, gray-blue gaze unwavering. "I understand that feeling well enough to know what it means."
Suddenly the floor seemed far more interesting than being dissected by her steely look. Did she have a lover? That would explain why she showed very little interest in anyone... of course, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming with his desires towards her, either. If she deduced that his response was the manifestation of his feelings for her, did that mean she had experienced that before?
What he was thinking must have shown on his face, because Elorwyn continued. "It's a long story, Nathaniel. I... appreciate the--"
He stood, nodding. "You appreciate the thought, but aren't interested." Honestly, he was rather proud how steady his voice was. "I understand."
With that, he headed for the door, crossing in front of her, only to feel a strong, calloused hand encircle his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks. "Don't put words in my mouth." she said, bringing her other hand to stroke his, "Will you let me finish?"
It would have been best for the both of them if he just continued on out of her room. They could go on the rest of their years pretending they never acknowledged it, she would go back to being his Commander, he would go back to being her second, the only affection between them being the loyalty as brothers-in-arms. Regardless of it being a poor decision, the rogue found himself bending to one knee, holding one of her hands between both of his, resting his wrists on the seat.
Elorwyn met his gaze, jaw tightening. "His... his name was... Tamlen." Her voice broke on the name, something that both intrigued and frightened him. "I grew up with him; we were causing trouble together the moment we could walk." The corner of her mouth twitched up for a split second. "I think I was in love with him by the time I was thirteen."
Nathaniel swallowed thickly; there was a feeling of dread clawing at his gut, telling him he would not like where this was going, but still, he asked, "What happened to him?"
Her entire body slumped. "He died. I lost him to the darkspawn taint not even two hours after I confessed me love for him. After he had reciprocated." she rasped, voice weak with unshed tears.
"Maker's blood." he muttered under his breath, eyes widening with sympathy, hands gently beginning to stroke her skin as if the motion would somehow take her pain away.
"I had to kill him, Nathaniel."
He blinked, jaw going slack before clicking back closed. "I... what? I thought the darkspawn--"
Elorwyn snapped he hand away, the sudden movement cutting him off. Wrapping her arms around her midsection in a pathetic hug, she turned her head away from him, avoiding his gaze. "He was tainted. Turned into a shriek, and sent after me." Sobs began to wrack her body, causing her to double over, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Creators; I sank my blade into his heart just as he told me he always loved me. I-I killed him!" She was wailing now, her steely voice rising in pitch as hysteria took over.
Nathaniel didn't have much experience with relationships, but he did have a little sister. Drawing on all his knowledge of crying women, he slipped into the chair. It was difficult at first, but once Elorwyn realized what he was aiming to do, she scooted over and let him gather her up to his chest, gently stroking her damp hair. She shuddered against him in silent agony, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, tears staining the garment. Maker, it physically ihurt/i to see her in such agony.
Despite the undeniable pain she had to be going through, she calmed herself within a few minutes. The sobs that shook her body were reduced to tiny hiccups that somehow made the knot in his chest tighten even more.
She scrubbed her hands over her face and leaned back, letting them fall to her lap as she looked at him. "It's... taken some time for my heart to heal." A small, nervous chuckle left her, fingers running through her hair in an uncharacteristically bashful move. "As you can see it's... still something I deal with."
There was a lump in his throat; what was he supposed to say to that? It wasn't his doing, so an 'I'm sorry' seemed moronic, even a bit mocking. 'I understand' was equally ridiculous and--
And she was holding his hand. When did that happen? Nathaniel looked down in silent awe as her fingers curled around his, squeezing gently. He marveled at the contrast between their skin tones, how feminine her fingers were despite the rough calluses that covered them.
"You do that often, don't you? Mull over every possibility. I can see it in your face" she said in a warm tone, laced with amusement. "You know it is possible that you think too much."
His mouth twisted into a self-deprecating smirk, rising his head to meet her eyes. "I find it's better to be cautious, especially when it comes to endeavors such as this."
Elorwyn's head bobbed and she made a thoughtful noise, stretching her legs across his lap and over the arm of the chair. She cleared her throat delicately. "I apologize for that. I haven't spoken about Tamlen in a very long time," she murmured, grasping his hand tightly. "It's been two years since I thought I lost him... a little under a year since I saw him die."
Suddenly, she shifted, swinging her legs around, letting go of his hand, using hers to tilt his head up. "I've tried to ignore my feeling for you for... some time, now," she continued, eyes boring into his. "Honestly, I didn't want to distract either of us."
Nathaniel's heart began thumping against its cage. "And... now that our duties are dealt with?" he prodded, inwardly wincing at how hopeful he sounded.
"And now I'd like to begin anew, " she answered, leaning forward so that her lips brushed his cheek. "With you. I've... fallen quite hard for you, Nathaniel."
His brow arched. "Have you? How hard have you fallen, my lady?" he rumbled.
Her hands tenderly cupped his face, and somehow he found himself kissing the thin, slightly chapped lips that he'd only dreamed about. It was a gentle meeting, tentative as only a first kiss could be.
"I love you."
"You... do?" he found himself asking, suppressing the urge to place his palm over his face.
Elorwyn just smiled. "Yes. I do." she confirmed. Soon, her smile faded and she began to shift uncomfortably. "Did I... misread? Do you not--"
None of that, he thought as he crashed his lips upon hers once more, emboldened by her words, hands slipping into her thick hair. The woman stiffened only for a moment before melting into the kiss, working her mouth against his, mewling softly. He cupped the back of her head and pressed most insistently, flicking his tongue against her bottom lip. Elorwyn's lips parted almost immediately, and he happily unfurled his tongue against hers, reveling in the throaty moan she gave as a response.
As unfortunate as it was, they both needed air to live, thus he broke away, panting heavily and slightly flushed; she looked more than a little dazed, and he tried not to be too smug about it. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips and closing her eyes as if in rapture; the 'not looking smug' thing he was attempting failed miserably.
A rough chuckle bubbled up from his throat, and he raked a hand through his hair. "That... that was supposed to be an 'I love you, too'."
"Good," she said, rising from her seat, long strides taking her over to her bed. She flipped open the covers and wriggled under them, uttering a contented sigh, before looking over at him expectantly, patting the pillow by her side. "Stay with me tonight?"
Nathaniel was up before she could finish her sentence, taking quick steps over to the other side, repeating her motions, but not deigning to intrude too much farther on her personal space. She, however, had no such qualms, and was nuzzling her nose into his chest mere seconds after he had situated himself. An arm curled around her shoulders, drawing her closer despite never having slept with anyone like this before. Her own arms slid around his waist, a happy sigh puffing against his shirt.
Some little voice in his head told him to kiss her, and he listened, placing it atop her head and rubbing his hand over her toned bicep. Elorwyn made a relaxed 'mm' noise that made a small smile creep onto his lips.
"Get some sleep, Nathaniel. I have plans for you in the morning." she mumbled softly, half asleep already.
He swallowed thickly, trying desperately to ignore the fluttering in his stomach from the implications of her words. "As long as I get the chance to act on some of my own designs."
"I look forward to it, love."
Nathaniel's heart shuddered at that one, simple word.
"As do I, my love." he murmured against the crown of her head, holding her tightly to him as sleep claimed him. It was good to be alive.
