author: aimorai
Word count: 1,564
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Nell was absolutely festooned with blankets. It was like a private heaven. Sheets were wrapped around her legs and a larger, more comfortable and soft covering draped over her body like a cotton-and-linen cloud. The feel on her naked skin was delicious, and Nell, half-asleep, wiggled herself deeper into the cocoon.
Next to her, she heard a long-suffering sigh that roused her, just a bit. Her mind railed against the thought of waking and she burrowed more forcefully into her haven.
"... If you steal any more of the blankets I will be forced to use drastic measures."
Her brow furrowed and she humphed, turning entirely over onto her side and yanking the coverlet with her.
"...I did warn you."
Strong, warm arms snaked around Nell's middle and she managed a squeaking sound, her eyes partially opening as she was lifted bodily, upwards, and then clear on over the other side of the bed, with a wall of hard, naked male body between her and the nest she'd managed to make for herself. Alistair ignored her burgeoning pout and grabbed the wad of blankets, throwing it over himself and sighing contentedly, his head falling back onto a pillow. It was full dark in the room - at some point, the candles must have gone out. Nell really had no idea what time it was - there were no windows in a whorehouse. Although that was practical for many reasons, it made it difficult to discern if they'd been there two hours or twenty.
All the warmth that had been invested in sleepy limbs started to eke out of Nell's muscles and she plastered herself up against Alistair's side, still trying not to entirely wake up. Of course, now the front of her body was almost too warm and her backside doubly felt the chill. She lifted her head, peeking under her lashes towards him, her hand starting to creep along his abdomen in the hopes of balling a fist in the blankets that he now entirely controlled.
His own hand grabbed hers before she could make a break for it, shackling her around the wrist and moving the encroaching arm down between them.
"No. You're being punished." Alistair's voice was positively oozing with relaxation.
"But I'm cold..." Her voice was fairly petulant, but Nell didn't even care. He was a cruel man, absolutely brutal.
"And I have been cold for half the night."
"But I didn't know you were cold and you do know I am, so therefore..."
Alistair groaned, the palms of his hands coming up to his face, each digging into their respective eye sockets. "Are you really going to whine until I give you a blanket?"
Nell's lips twisted playfully, continuing to watch him. "Whining works for you all the time."
He snorted, and she had the pleasure of once again experiencing the unnerving sensation of being lifted like a child as he grabbed and rearranged her again, plopping her down unceremoniously upon the expanse of his chest. She came face-to-face with one of his scars, a jagged, rather thick white line tracing a hair's breadth underneath his collarbone. She stared at it as Alistair jerked and tugged on the blankets until they fell over-top of them both. The thin silver chain of his mother's amulet glistened near the edge of her vision, and she delicately moved it away.
One of her fingers decided to trace the scarred skin. It was not perfectly knit by any means; the raised knot of flesh underneath spoke volumes about the healer's skill, or lack thereof. Her particular lack of skill in the art. Wherever Wynne's hands had worked, the scars were much more minimal and flat. Her own handiwork was absolutely ugly in comparison, and she felt her lips pucker, almost in shame.
"Do you remember when you got this?"
"By the Maker... are you still not asleep? Sleep. Sllleeeeeeep."
"I was asleep until I was so rudely interrupted. And now I want to talk."
"...It's worse than I feared. We've only been together one night and now she wants to talk. The other Wardens warned me about this once. Next thing you know you'll be making me hold your things and... and making me not eat so much cheese, or..."
"...Alistair?"
"What?"
"You're rambling."
"I think it's entirely relevant! You want to talk, I want to sleep, but you're....female, so you win, don't you?"
"That's right. Thank goodness you're a quick learner, you saved me months of training." Nell grinned up in the direction of his face, her fingers still swirling around his scar. Alistair groaned a little and thumped his head back on the pillow, his hand coming up to lazily thread through her curls. It was ridiculously comforting and she tilted her head towards the sensation.
"Yes, I remember that particular beating. Only because you almost killed me when you tried to heal it."
Nell bit her lip a little at the memory. He'd gotten the wound during that horrible night at Redcliffe, when the dead walked and the villagers were on their last legs. He'd had to fight with the wound, fending off bodies left and right for long, agonizing minutes before Nell could staunch any of the bleeding. His bone had broken through his skin and it had made her physically sick. The ghastly white color of the scar was nothing in comparison to Alistair's stark mortality staring her in the face, shaking her confidence. She'd botched the healing spell entirely, causing some fragments of bone to actually crack back into his neck, causing yet more lifeblood to pool from him... He'd been so pale...She closed her eyes, trying to will the visual into the Fade.
"I don't know what I would have done if..." She trailed off. If Morrigan hadn't been there. If they'd been unable to do anything.
His fingers worked through her curls slowly, massaging on her scalp in the same lazy, half-thoughtful way. It was a welcome distraction from the remembrance that suddenly seemed tattooed on the insides of her eyelids
"You mean you already wanted me then?" His voice teased and purred at the same time and she pinched a little bit of skin on his shoulder.
"I don't know. It's all a blur. I remember panicking and thinking that I needed you. Want and... everything else...Well. I didn't think of it. Though maybe my brain just needed to catch up to the rest of me. That happens once in awhile."
Alistair humphed and re-settled his head, mashing it into the pillow behind him as if he would make it as flat as the mattress. Nell's eyes continued to rove along his scar thoughtfully. Did I know... even then? There was something about Alistair from the beginning. Perhaps it was just kinship -- fellow Wardens, thrown in together. You try to get along because you must. His unflappable humor was a boon far more often than it had been a burden, and his approval had always made her feel... justified in her decisions. His confidence bolstered hers. If Alistair likes me, I must be doing something right. How many times had she had that thought? For all her independent decision making, she had to admit that from the first, his very presence had wreathed its way into her conscience and stamped its claim. Not love, at least at first. But something.
Would the same have happened had he been anyone else? An older Warden, far more serious? Or younger and cocksure? Someone more like Zevran, or Sten or... anyone else but Alistair? Would it have happened? The thought was a little jarring. Perhaps it wasn't even worth the effort of parsing it out...but...
"I'm glad it's you." She whispered against him, having no idea if he would hear or not.
"Mmmm." He sounded for all the world like he was both not listening and about to fall back asleep and Nell sighed, putting her head underneath his chin. His warmth seeped into her from underneath, drugging, and she closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart under her ear. There would be time to tell him what she was thinking later. She curled up one of her legs along his and Alistair suddenly jerked away at the movement, his free hand sliding down her back to re-adjust the offending limb, taking it out from between his and to the side, before possessively grabbing onto her hip. She didn't bother lifting her head, but she made a questioning noise against him. Not that she minded his hand there. Or anywhere.
"Before I forget... I need to defend myself. You deliver just as many beatings as the darkspawn, my dear. You do realize you kicked me twice last night in...the groin." He sounded almost embarrassed even mentioning his own body parts and Nell quaked with the effort of suppressing a giggle.
"...It's not funny. There could be serious, long-term damage. You steal covers and you kick. There should be warnings attached to women." His fingers continued to drag through her curls and along her scalp, and his voice was still thick. The rhythm of his hand and his heart was hypnotic.
She let her lips brush along his collarbone and murmured her apology.
"Just thought you should know..." His hands continued to drift over her head, wreathing a sleeping spell as potent as there had ever been. She succumbed quickly.