Hawke took Alistair to the cellar entrance of the estate, pausing to point out Anders' clinic. "And that's where you can find the healer."
"That's rather convenient," he grumbled.
She conjured a tiny flame and lit one of the lanterns she kept down here. "What does that mean?" she asked, scrutinizing him in the faint light.
"I, uh… It just seems like you require his... services... with some regularity. Which reminds me - what did happen to you yesterday?"
Sighing, she led him through the dusty warren of stairs and corridors. "I fainted, probably hit my head on the way down, got kidnapped by bandits, and escaped with the industrious aid of fire. A lot of fire."
"You fainted?" he repeated incredulously.
She took a deep breath with the slightest hint of quiver. "My mother, she… the night she went missing, we tracked her to Lowtown. A boy said he saw her, helping an injured man. We found a trail of blood, but…" She shook her head. "We were too late." She shut her eyes, and when his fingers brushed hers she squeezed his hand. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."
"Right," he said, swallowing. "About saying goodbye."
Suddenly, she understood his odd demeanor. Or hoped she did. "Oh, Alistair." Tugging his hand, she sat down on a nearby crate, and he followed. "I think that came out wrong." She turned to face him, resting one hand on his knee. "I think I said before how lucky I was, that I got to say goodbye to mother. I had that with Carver, as well… but not with Bethany." In the dark, she could hardly make out his expression, which actually made it easier. "I woke up in that warehouse, alone and unarmed and unsure of what I was up against, and all I could think was 'What if I die here? I could die today and Alistair would never know…" she gulped, "how I… how I feel.'"
"I thought you didn't want this getting complicated," he said quietly.
Her throat tightened and she wished desperately for water. "I didn't. But... you make me laugh. And you call me on my bullshit. And when I fell apart, you somehow knew how to hold me together." She looked away. "I wanted you to hear all that. Even if you don't -"
Turning her face back to him, he kissed her so hard it nearly hurt, his fingers tangling in her hair. She climbed onto his lap, wrapping her legs around him, and his hands fought through layers of ruffles to her skin. Digging his fingers into her hips, he pulled her against him, the pressure and friction through her smallclothes making her gasp into his mouth. With singular determination, he lavished attention on her lips, her neck, her incredibly sensitive ears, while urging her against him until, to her relative surprise - and possible embarrassment - she cried out in release.
With a nervous, shaky laugh, she rested her forehead against his while he held tightly her trembling body.
He brought his lips to her ear. "Can I tell you something?" he whispered, his breath making her shiver.
"I knew it," she sighed. "You are a demon, aren't you?"
He chuckled. "I spilled that drink on purpose."
She leaned back to look at him, steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders. "You what?"
It was his turn to look embarrassed. "I, uh, I kind of watched you for… for a while. And you were so beautiful, and brave, and a little bit wild, and I had no idea what to say to a woman like you, so..."
"So, giving me a beer bath seemed like a good plan?"
He dropped to the low, sexy tone she so loved. "It worked, didn't it?"
"Didn't it just?" she murmured against his lips.
Belated embarrassment kicked in as Hawke and Alistair emerged from the cellar to a fervent greeting from Hugo.
"Andraste's toenails, Hugo, calm down! I'm so-" she turned to apologize to Alistair just in time to see him tackle the Mabari. She watched the two roll around on the ground and concluded it was playful rolling. "I'm going to see about dinner," she called over her shoulder. "Neither of you had better break anything."
Bodahn was so relieved to see her that she braced herself for a hug, but it didn't happen. "Messere, thank goodness you're home! We've all been worried sick about you."
"They told me that they sent word -"
"They did, Messere, but it's much better to see you in one piece." He smiled. "Now, what can I do for you?"
She requested dinner for two and asked him to invite Gamlen to lunch tomorrow. "If Alistair doesn't get eaten by the dog, let him know that I'm just freshening up and I'll come find him shortly."
To her surprise, she didn't look as bad as she thought. The boys had done an excellent job of cleaning the dirt and dried blood out of her hair, and she guessed most of the dust she currently wore came from the cellar.
Her cheeks flushed just thinking about their time in the cellar, and she decided she wouldn't rest until she returned him the favor. Digging through her armoire, she found the dress that she'd bought half on a whim and half on Bethany's insistence. The deep purple bodice hugged and lifted in ways that would make her self-conscious in public. She tousled her curls to the left to hide the gash that, from the look of it, was probably going to scar.
Alistair had found his way to the fireplace. He sat cross-legged on the rug, Hugo's head in his lap, chatting with Bodahn like an old friend. She smiled, a little sadly. He would have made a great king. "I see you've won over the man of the house," she called from the loft. As she came into view, Alistair rewarded her with widening eyes.
"Dinner should be ready shortly, Messere," Bodahn said, looking decidedly not at her.
She offered Alistair her hand. "Wine?" She helped him to his feet and pulled him close. "Anders says I'm not allowed, but I'd hate to deprive you."
"How committed are we to this 'dinner' thing?" he murmured, trailing his fingers over her bare shoulder.
"No dinner, no dessert," she teased, slipping out of his reach. "Didn't they teach you that in the Chantry?"
He laughed and followed her into the dining room. "You think they served dessert in the Chantry? That's cute."
"What was it like?" she asked, fighting the urge to sit on the table out of respect for her mother.
"Dessert? Surely you've had dessert before ."
She chuckled. "You know what I meant."
Sighing, he settled into a chair and accepted a glass of wine. "Probably pretty much the way you'd imagine. Boring, stuffy, lonely. Then, as I got older, it was more stuffy, lonely, challenging. Templar training isn't easy, and I was good at it. And lucky me, I got out before they started giving me lyrium." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I never hunted mages, you know. Nor did I want to. I didn't ask to be shipped off to the Chantry."
She shrugged dismissively. "I'm fairly confident that if you had a problem with apostates, I'd know by now."
Orana appeared with dinner. "I'm so glad you're alright, Mistress. We were worried."
"I'm sorry to have worried you, Orana. You're very sweet. You remember Alistair, don't you?"
"I do," she said, smiling politely. "Can I do anything else?"
"No, dear, thank you. Did Bodahn mention lunch tomorrow?"
"Yes, Mistress. Your uncle is coming?"
"With any luck. Don't make an inordinate fuss, though. Something simple is fine."
Alistair watched the girl slip back into the kitchen. "I have to say, you don't exactly strike me as the servant-having type. Not - I mean, there's nothing wrong with it, I just -"
Laughing, she held up a hand to spare him further effort. "Orana came here in the service of a magister from Tevinter. Let's just say one thing led to another, and I offered her a place here. I can't seem to pay her enough to stop calling me 'mistress', though." It took a concerted effort not to immediately shovel food into her mouth; after starving herself in grief, her body couldn't seem to get enough food.
"I imagine it took some getting used to."
That small sadness returned. A castle full of servants was Alistair's bloody birthright. He shouldn't be living in that filthy tavern in this miserable city.
"Is something on your mind?" Alistair asked between bites.
His insight nearly startled her. She considered her words carefully. "Why aren't you ruling Ferelden?"
He looked surprised. "Because if I didn't renounce my claim to the throne, Anora would have had me executed?"
"I've actually heard that part. I more meant… I mean… how did it even come to that?"
He sighed heavily, making her regret the question. "For the record, I never wanted to be king. And until Cailan died, I was never going to be." A small, sad smile drifted across his lips. "You know, that was the best thing about being a Grey Warden, at first. I was no longer the bastard prince, or the spoiled urchin from Redcliffe Castle. The Wardens made me feel like my own man. Till that bastard Loghain killed the king, and suddenly I had everyone telling me that I had a duty to Ferelden. And believe you me, the Wardens are mad about duty." He looked up at her, his brow creased. "Look, are you sure you want to be hearing about this? I mean, it has a lot to do with her."
"Do you still love her?" she blurted out. It was all she could do not to clap her hands over her mouth.
He scowled. "I don't think I ever loved her. I don't think I ever even knew her." He rubbed his hands over his face. "Although in my defense, I think she had everyone fooled. She played wide-eyed and sweet and innocent from the start, and we all bought into it."
"So what happened?"
"I don't know. I really don't. All I know is that she convinced me I had to become king… but at the Landsmeet, she sided against me. I don't even know why she convinced Anora to spare my life, because she didn't show a shred of guilt, or remorse." His voice cracked a little. "She told me I would have made a terrible king." He cleared his throat. "And I had said that all along. But the woman spent the entire Blight trying to convince me otherwise, only to humiliate me in front of half of Denerim..." He took a drink and shrugged. "Let's just say it wasn't my best day ever."
"I think you'd make a fine king," she said quietly.
"Right. I'm sure spilling a drink on the Empress would be a wonderful way to open diplomatic negotiations with Orlais." They both laughed, dispelling the tension that had gathered. "What about you?"
She shook her head. "Nah, I'd make a terrible king."
He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's not what I meant. I've heard so many thrilling tales of your exploits, they can't all be true."
Getting to her feet, she rounded the table slowly, putting an extra sway in her hips. Bending over, she slid one hand up his thigh and brushed her lips against his ear. "Let's go upstairs and I'll thrill you properly," she whispered .