Orrin is blushing.
It is entirely inappropriate for the king of a nation to blush so ferociously around his peers. Yet, he cannot help himself when he is in council with the other Varden leaders and he sees the two women locking glances from across the table.
It is a look of such intensity that Orrin feels intrusive when he catches sight of it, but he can never tear his face away. They do not smile, not ever that he has seen, and they do not openly address the other during the course of the meeting.
He clears his throat. Maybe it's nothing, he thinks.
Arya lowers her green eyes, and raises them slowly back to the face of Nasuada. Her eyelashes catch the light, and Orrin wonders how the young woman can bear such a beauty before her.
Maybe it's just me.
Nasuada bites her lower lip, just hard enough to see the pressure along its pink surface. The heat Orrin now feels is palpable; he needs to get some air.
Am I the only one who sees this?! They're making eyes at each other like…
Arya shifts her weight, leaning against her right arm and Nasuada mimics her like a dance partner. They have not stopped staring and Orrin is beginning to think that they would pounce on the other if the table were not in their way. And he is sorely tempted to move the obstacle.
Those curves, those lips, those hands. On each other… NO! No no no no no no. Not correct. He begins fanning himself with a scrap of paper.
His movement seems to break their trance, and Nasuada turns to him, asking, "Are you feeling well, Orrin?"
"It's just so hot," he says, trailing off his sentence. "In the tent! It's very stuffy in this tent." His face turns ruby red.
The elf asks him lowly, "Shall I let some air in?" He nods and she rises, swaying her hips more than Orrin can handle, while Nasuada watches her walk to the tent flap, parting her lips as she brushes a few stands of hair behind her ear.
Oh, gods. I must be a very sick man to think what I'm thinking.
He swallows hard and does his best not to look at them for the duration of the meeting. When they finish a half-hour later, Orrin stumbles out of the tent like a drunk.
You're only seeing it because you want it to happen.
Following behind, the distracting females walk side-by-side to Nasuada's tent, reading a scroll between them. He can hear them discussing something about the shipment of lace to Teirm.
They would never…
Arya lightly touches Nasuada's lower back, guiding her into the carpeted area. Orrin's jaw drops.
"Lovers" is the word that pops into his head unbidden. They can't be!
But the teenage boy of his thoughts wants very, very desperately for it to be true.
XXXXX
A/N: This started as a Blödhgarm chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to write his POV. I'm still planning on one, but Orrin needed to come first. Haha, perv.