He had been so nervous, Solona remembered.
Sure, they'd flirted, forever it seemed, but Alistair had been raised by the Chantry, and that meant a chaste life. It was no wonder he was so endearingly awkward when it came to the opposite sex, and although Solona was no innocent, she respected him and his embarrassed plea for more time. Much as her physical needs were frustrated, she did find it kind of exciting and sweet to wait for him. It didn't mean she hadn't been mightily tempted by the elf, Maker knew… but she'd pledged herself to Alistair and good, bad or indifferent, she would keep that pledge.
She kept her pledges.
Mind you, she'd wondered with a tinge of bitterness more than once if, given the danger of their mission, that meant her sweet, funny Alistair would die a virgin. That was usually when she was most feeling the lack of him… physically. She'd immediately felt guilty and added a Maker forbid! to the thought.
And so, after months of waiting, and hot and heavy kisses that left her aching for more, she'd been utterly blindsided when he'd approached her at camp.
She'd been sitting at the fireside, tending to the pot of stew. It was her turn, and she'd managed to get a few nugs and some wild onions. That and some carrots and potatoes from their stores had blended beautifully. She'd been so tired she had not yet removed her armor, and she stirred and tasted, adjusting the seasoning. There was no reason their meals could not be palatable as well as life-sustaining.
The first thing she'd noted was - Maker's breath, his HAIR is messy! And not the carefully contrived tousled look he usually wore, either - it looked like he had been nervously running his fingers through it.
He'd paced back and forth, clearly agitated. As she'd got to her feet to ask him what was wrong, he'd turned sharply and nearly knocked her off her feet. The clank as they'd came into contact with each other must have been heard clearly across the campsite. He'd grabbed her arms to steady her, and the look in his eyes was odd… panicky.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no, Solona had groaned inwardly. This was it. It was happening. Wynne had convinced him that their relationship had to be broken off in the name of duty…
"All right…I guess I really don't know how to ask you this…"
"Alistair, what's wrong… are you feeling all right?" Solona had tried to brutally shove down her anguish, and put a hand to his forehead. Maker, but he felt feverish! "Are you sweating?"
"No! I… I mean yes, I mean I'm a little nervous, sure, not that this is anything bad, or frightening or…well…yes!" He really looked flustered, panicked even.
Solona wished she were strong enough to find the words to comfort him, to tell him it was all right and she understood that he couldn't be with her THAT way… but she couldn't.
"Ohhhh," he moaned, "how do I say this… you'd think it would be easier, but…"
And then, his eyes had focused, and found hers, and locked with hers. She'd heard herself inhale sharply, and she stood there, trembling. Maker, she'd thought in wonder and despair, I really do love this man… and this love is going to destroy me.
"Every time I'm around you I feel like my head's going to explode! I can't think straight!"
Wait…. what? WHAT?! Solona had felt the corners of her eyes getting damp, and her mind was whirling. What is he saying? Is he letting me down easy or not? "I… Alistair…" She tried to smile. "I… feel the same way."
He'd grinned at her, then. "Well, I hope you mean the head exploding thing in a good way." He'd reached for her hands, and held them gently… her small, quick and slender in his large, calloused, but somehow gentle ones. "Here's the thing…."She'd looked up at him then, her heart pounding.
"…being near you makes me crazy," he said, his voice breaking breathlessly, "but I can't imagine being without you. Not… ever."
Maker's breath, Solona thought, and felt the tears start, her heart so filled with joy she could hardly breathe.
"I… don't know how to say this another way," he'd said, looking away, his face burning. There was something so vulnerable in his eyes that her heart had ached for him. And then he'd looked her straight in the eyes, and his gaze had become heated, intense. "I want to spend the night with you. Here, in the camp." The nervousness crept back into his voice again. "Maybe this is too… fast, I don't know, but… I know how I feel."
Solona had squeezed his hands, smiling tentatively. "Are… are you sure this is what you want?" She hadn't felt this… nervous about sex for a long time. But then, she'd known… it wasn't just sex. She loved him, utterly. Completely. And it scared her to death and made her happier than she had ever thought she could be.
"I… wanted to wait for the perfect time…. the perfect place, but… when will it be perfect? If things were, we never would have met. We sort of… stumbled into each other. And despite this being the least perfect time, I still found myself falling for you… in between all of the fighting and everything else." He had looked at her with such tenderness, such vulnerability. "I really don't want to wait anymore. I… I've never done this before, you know that… I want it to be with you. While we have the chance. In case…."
"Don't say that, Alistair. There will be time later…."
"Will there? You don't know that. I don't know that. I'd like to be able to say I threw caution to the wind at least once."
She stroked his cheek, searching his eyes. "You're sure then? No… regrets?"
He smiled, holding her cheeks tenderly. "How could I ever regret you?"
Solona had stood on her tiptoes, sliding her hands up his arms to rest on his shoulders, and stopped his words with a kiss. When she broke it, she'd smiled, and gave him a heated look, then kissed him again, harder and more desperately, as his hands spanned her slender waist, and he'd pulled her tightly against himself.
Maker's breath, he will end me, Solona had thought.
She'd broken the kiss then, and taking him by the hands drew him back towards his tent. When they got there and knelt beside each other, they'd laughed nervously, nearly despairing over how much armor still stood between them.
Silently, she had started to unbuckle his armor. She'd done this many times before, helping him into and out of his armor… though not with this particular reason in mind. Alistair had only hesitated a moment before he'd begun to unbuckle hers as well.
"Right then, off with the armor," he'd murmured into her ear, repeating her own words from Maker knew how long ago to him. She'd grinned, kissed him, and kept working.
They'd set aside each piece carefully. That armor had stood and would continue to stand between them and death every day, and neither of them would simply cast it aside no matter how desperate they were to touch each other. There'd been something very…. exciting, about the slow exposure, the putting off of what they used to protect themselves from the hurts and malice of the world… and then they were in their small clothes.
Solona had gasped when Alistair gathered her into a crushing hug, her head tucked beside his neck, her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders. She could feel his muscles tight below the skin, ran her hands over the scars, old and new, along his back. She'd found his lips and kissed him until they were both panting and dizzy with wanting.
"Maker, I am a lucky man," he'd breathed, gently laying her back onto the bedroll, kissing her nose, looking hungry and nervous and eager all at once.
She'd never forget the look on his face as she'd guided him onto her… into her. Or how tentative he'd been at first, afraid that he'd hurt her….
She'd kissed him, and pulled him closer… and nibbled his ear and urged him on, quietly assuring him until she could no longer string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. And then she'd clutched at him frantically, his name a litany on her lips, a prayer, leading him until he'd found that he'd known this delicious frenzy all along, that this rhythm was the rhythm of their pounding hearts, of the blood running through their veins, until they'd urged and driven and coaxed each other to a shattering release.
She'd held him captive in the cradle of her hips, kissing him when he would have pulled away, worried that he was too heavy for her. "Never, love," she'd whispered, nipping at his lower lip, stroking his back sheened with sweat, pinching his buttocks and grinning wryly as they both felt the evidence of his returning arousal.
"Oh, Maker," he'd moaned into her ear, "you're going to be the death of me."
"But what a way to go." She'd arched into him, kissing him gently, and showed him how sweet and gentle they could love as well.
They'd slept soundly, side by side, with him spooned behind her, no nightmares disturbing their sleep. At some point Alistair had pulled a blanket over both of them, and he'd cradled her protectively in his arms all night.
In the morning, she'd led him off to the stream so they could both bathe before anyone got up. She had felt eyes on the back of her neck, however, and turned to see a glimpse of amber eyes and dark fur skittered away into the bushes. Oh well…. it's not as if it's going to be a secret for long - if it ever was, she'd thought.
They'd bathed each other, dried off, and dressed in a comfortable silence, and were headed back to camp hand in hand when Alistair had said tentatively, "You know, according to the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."
"Oh, really?" Solona had laughed, turning to face him, walking backwards so she wouldn't have to miss seeing those amazing eyes and how they were crinkling happily as he teased her.
"Yup! Lightning first, then the end of the world as we know it. I'm a bad, bad man," he grinned.
Solona had reached over, given him a playful slap on the rump. "On the contrary," she'd purred, "I think you're a very very GOOD man."
"Oh!" he'd breathed, looking at her mischievous and clearly lustful look, "Keep looking at me like that and we'll never get anything done today." Then he'd sobered. "You know, the rest of our little group is going to talk. They DO that."
"Let them talk," she'd said playfully, "First one to be a pain in the ass gets their nethers frozen off."
"Ouch!" He'd grinned, then stopped at the edge of camp, stroking the side of her face and looking at her as if he'd never get enough. "Thank you," he'd said, leaning in and giving her a very tender kiss.
She'd smiled and whispered, "No, thank you," against his lips.
"I'm so glad you were my first…. and if I have my way, you'll be my last and only." He'd taken her face in his hands and kissed her again until she was dizzy.
"By the Ancestors, either knock it off or let us join in!" Oghren had groused.
Solona, for a wonderm had blushed. It was Alistair who had laughed and kissed her soundly again.
"Have I told you that I love you? No? I love you, Solona."
"I love you too, Alistair," she murmured against his lips.
"Seeee? Was that so hard?"
She'd given him a wicked, wicked grin, and opened her mouth as if to answer. He'd placed his fingers on her lips, grinning, and flushed. "Enough, love. There are darkspawn to slaughter, yes?"
"Commander?"
Solona startled, and sat up, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was still at her desk, and the reports, letters and bills she was sifting through were spread across it. Thank the Maker I didn't drool on them, she thought.
She looked over her shoulder to see Nathaniel standing there in the doorway, a mug of something steaming in his hands, and she stood, pushing her hair back over her ears. "Ah. What… what can I do for you?"
"Varel's looking for you, as is your 'pony'," he said, giving her a very considering look. "I think perhaps the later in particular needs reassurance that you haven't been carried off by darkspawn." He shifted, frowning. "Do you often sleep in your office?"
"Seems like it, these days," she said, frowning at the paperwork spread before her. She shrugged, and said quietly, "I guess I'm finding being the Commander and the Arlessa takes more hours than exist in the day."
He stepped forward, handing her the mug. "No poison, I assure you," he said in what almost might be a joke. "And your problem is that you're only trying to do both jobs right."
She was surprised to hear something that wasn't bitter from him, and accepted the mug with a nod, sipping from it. "Thank you," she said.
He'd started to turn and walk away, and then turned back. "Why?"
"Sorry?" Solona cradled the warm mug in both hands, studying his face.
"Why do you trust me? After all that's happened you'd have had every right to have me thrown out of here or hanged, and yet you have me here living under the same roof, working with you… accepting food from me!"
She took another sip. "Should I not?"
He shook his head. "You are a maddening woman!"
"So I've been told."
"Answer me plainly: why?"
Solona nodded slowly. "Because you deserve it," she murmured, "as you do not deserve the things that life has thrown at you."
"I don't want your pity!"
"Good. You don't have it." She set the cup down. "Later today I'd like your help; I'm going to see the extent of the damage from the attack down below in the basements. I'm told there are tunnels that interconnect the outbuildings and your familiarity with them would be invaluable."
He studied her as if trying to see into her thoughts, then slowly nodded. "You'll have it," he said gruffly, and walked away.
Solona watched him as he went. I'll always treat you fairly, she thought as he disappeared down the hall. That, I promise.