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Una woke up feeling oddly paralyzed. Nothing hurt that badly, except a dull throb in one leg, but she couldn't move at all. When she opened her eyes, it was pitch dark. Was she in some kind of Fade nightmare again? She tried to remember the last thing she'd been doing. She remembered the emissary, talking to Wynne … then nothing else. Panic began to rise in her.
Slowly, she became aware of a familiar sound. Alistair, she thought with relief. Snoring. Shifting her right arm experimentally, she felt a warm weight shift with it and heard a sleepy grumble. So that explained the right side. She was lying under some kind of blanket, and Alistair was lying on top of it. What about the left?
Something cold and wet brushed her neck, and she smelled the remains of whatever Grenli had eaten for dinner. Aha, she thought. She grinned into the darkness, feeling very loved. "Do the two of you mind getting off me?" she said, loudly and firmly.
Both of them jumped, startled apparently out of deep sleep.
"Did you say something? Tell me you said something!" came Alistair's voice in her right ear, while Grenli snuffled wetly at her left.
"I said, get off me!" she said in mingled affection and irritation. Both of them hastened to do so. Una stretched luxuriantly in the bed. Bed? Where in Thedas was she? "That's better," she said tartly. "Now, do either of you want to explain to me where I am and how I got here?" Grenli let out a woof, but Alistair cut him off. "I'll handle this part, Gren." The dog grunted. Alistair proceeded to fill her in on the events of the day, ending by taking her hand in both of his, squeezing tightly. "Thank the Maker you're all right. I don't know what I would have done if—"
Una sighed. "Maybe we ought to talk about that," she said. "Because I'd have had the same reaction if our positions were reversed. And if one of us were to fall and the other one fell apart, Ferelden would be doomed and Wynne would be right."
"Wynne?"
Feeling rather more pain in her leg than she'd anticipated, Una sat up, finding Alistair's hands already behind her with a pillow to prop herself up against. "She gave me a lecture one night about how we're Grey Wardens, and we have a higher duty than our personal feelings and what if we had to choose between the world and each other and all that."
"Very gloomy of her."
"She finished it up by shaking her finger at me particularly. Like I was some corrupter of youth, or something, when I'm younger than you!" Una finished indignantly. "At least, I assume I'm younger," she added, realizing that she didn't actually know how old he was. "How old are you?"
"Twenty." His voice was filled with suppressed laughter. "Glad to hear Wynne was looking out for me."
"No doubt about who's her favorite," Una grumbled.
"She does have good taste," he said smugly.
"If I could see you, I'd hit you with this pillow."
"Thanks for the warning."
"Anyway," Una said in exasperation, "my point stands."
"Your point? Oh, yes, the very cheery one about what if one of us dies."
"I know," she sighed, "but I think we have to talk about the possibility."
"The Blight's the main thing, isn't it? We have to end the Blight, whether it's both of us or just one."
"Exactly. The Blight first, over each other's welfare, over vengeance against Loghain and Howe, over our own survival."
"Agreed," said Alistair. "Now, if we're done being all valiant and everything, can I tell you—or better yet, show you—how very glad I am that you're okay?" He lifted her hand, pressing soft kisses into her palm. Una shivered.
Next to the bed, the mabari whined.
"Grenli doesn't want to be in here for this part," Una said. "Can you let him out? Then I look forward to your … demonstration." She grinned in the darkness.
"Oh, all right," Alistair said, getting up to open the door. The dog left the room, but another form came in. Wynne used her candle to light a few of the sconces on the walls. The room was filled with a sudden brightness.
"Glad to see you're awake," the mage said. "Any pain?"
"Some when I moved," Una said as Wynne moved the covers aside to look at the wound.
"Good. It's healing well." She looked at Una. "I suggest another day of bed rest, then a couple of days of minimal wear and tear before we set out on the road again."
"Yes, ma'am," Una said meekly.
Wynne raised an eyebrow. "I expected more argument."
"No, ma'am."
"Uh-huh." Suddenly the mage turned on Alistair. "And you, young man, will find another room."
"But I—"
"When I say bed rest, I mean rest. Not what you had in mind." Her eyes raked over the warrior, who blushed scarlet.
"If we promise to behave, can he stay?" Una asked. She admitted she was enjoying her lover's sputterings, but not enough to be willing to sleep alone if she didn't have to.
"Can you?" Wynne looked skeptical.
"Probably?"
Wynne laughed. "You tear open that wound, we'll all regret it," she said.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"All right, then. You two get some sleep." She poked a finger in Alistair's chest. "I mean sleep, do you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, sounding like a chastened child.
"Uh-huh." Wynne didn't sound entirely convinced, but she took her candle and left.
"This is no fair at all," Alistair pouted. "Do you know how many times I've dreamed of having you in a real bed?"
"Poor thing," Una grinned.
"I suppose sleeping in a real bed is enough treat. For now," he said, still sulking.
Una settled back to enjoy the show as he undressed. "You're right," she said, watching the lights from the sconces play on the muscles of his back. "It's not fair at all."
"Ha! See?"
"Yes. Yes, I do," she said. "The lights are a bonus, too. I better be off bed-rest by tonight, that's all I can say."
"From your mouth to the Maker's ears," he said with heartfelt enthusiasm. He blew out the sconces and climbed into bed. Curling up around her, he held her for a few moments before whispering, "I was so scared."
"We need to be more careful. I think we've gotten complacent over time."
"We are highly skilled," he murmured sleepily.
"Highly. But even the most highly skilled can have an off day," she said. She waited for an answer, but he was already asleep.
The sunlight was streaming into the room through the windows when she woke up again. Una shifted her leg experimentally. Not bad. A little twinge, but nowhere near as sore as it had been during the night.
"Feeling better?" Alistair raised his head off the pillow to look at her. His hair was all tousled and he looked adorably sleepy.
"Much," she said, and had to laugh at how quickly his expression brightened. "You're spoiled, you know that?"
"Oh?" he said, one eyebrow arching. "Just me, is it?" His hand slid across her belly under the covers, caressing her soft skin, and Una held her breath. "No, you don't want me to do that, do you? Hmm … I wonder if there's breakfast down in the kitchens. I'm pretty hungry." But he didn't move.
"See, you can't even bluff properly," she said, giggling.
"I see," he said, "so now you think you have more willpower than I do?"
"Darling, that's not even in question, is it?"
"All right, then," he said, tossing the covers back and getting up. "Breakfast it is. Shall I get some for you, too, or do you refuse to admit you want that, either?"
Open-mouthed, Una stared at him. If she'd been betting, she'd have lost a lot of gold when he got up. Collecting herself, she said, "No, definitely want breakfast," stressing the last word teasingly. He shot her a glance that looked not entirely amused. The twinge in her leg as she sat up convinced her not to try mending this particular fence just now, but later tonight there might well be a need to be demonstrative and salvage her lover's wounded pride.
Grumbling under his breath, Alistair left the room. Wynne came in as soon as the door opened. "I see from Alistair's expression that the two of you behaved yourselves last night." Una grinned. "More to the point, you behaved yourself, is that the way it went?"
"Something like that. I may be in some trouble."
"Hm." Wynne checked the wound. "I think you can probably get up around dinner-time and resume normal activity tomorrow. We should be able to get on the road again the day after tomorrow."
"Good. Glad to hear it. Kind of." Wynne raised an eyebrow. "Real beds are more comfortable than the ground," Una explained.
"Definitely true. These old bones are glad of the break. But please don't go and get yourself almost killed again on my account."
"I'll do my best. Wynne?"
"Yes?"
"Am I healed enough to have a bath?"
"I think so," the mage said. "I'll have one brought in. After that, the others all want to see you. They've been worried."
Wynne left, and Una stretched, enjoying the sheer sensation of being indoors, in bed, under covers. After a while, the door opened and Alistair staggered in, carrying a tray heaped high with food.
"Never been so glad to see you before in all my life," she said. "I'm starving."
"Oh, is some of this supposed to be for you?" He glared at her.
Una bit her cheek to keep from smiling. "I suppose I could get up and walk down to the kitchen myself," she said. "Which might result in tearing open my wound again and more bed rest."
"No, no," he said hastily, handing her a plate. Then he blushed, realizing the trap he'd fallen into, while Una grinned triumphantly. "Okay, that was a falter, but I haven't lost yet."
"Just wait," she said around a mouthful of ham. "You will." Her eyes twinkled at him.
Alistair groaned, digging a fork into his own plate. He supposed it was silly of him, trying to play this game with her … but the longer it went on, the more he realized he wanted to win.
Una knew the prudent, thoughtful, caring thing would be to let him win … she just wasn't sure she could do it. She couldn't remember ever having let anyone win anything her whole life.
As they were eating, a pair of servants came in and out with steaming buckets of water, filling the tub. Alistair watched them, his eyes filled with horror. He was never going to make it through this, not without going absolutely out of his mind.
When the bath was filled and the servant girls had left, Una pushed the covers aside. Alistair put his plate down, ready to help her up. "Are you all right?" he asked, watching her gingerly put her weight on her injured leg.
"Okay," she said, but she winced.
"All right," he sighed, helping her over to the bathtub. Then he went back to the rest of his breakfast, trying not to watch as she—oh, so slowly—stripped off her smallclothes and the nightshirt she'd been wearing. She was so beautiful, he thought, tall and slender and curvy. His throat went dry and he swallowed hard.
Una tried hard not to look at him, but the glances she snuck were having their effect on her, too. If she hadn't needed his help just to walk to the bathtub, she might have relented then and there. But she didn't think she was quite up to the activity right now. Instead, she sank down into the tub, scrubbing vigorously. When she was ready to get out, though, there he was, holding out the towel, helping to steady her as she dried off, helping her back to bed. Then, with a dark glance at her, he stripped off his shirt, and then his pants and smallclothes. Una caught her breath in an audible gasp. Alistair turned around to look at her, noting with pleasure that her eyes had gone that particular shade of green they did when she was aroused, and she was licking her lips as she stared at him.
He cleared his throat. Una jumped, blushing. "Okay," she said breathlessly, "that was a falter. But I haven't lost yet."
"Just wait," he said. "You will."
Feeling better already, he got into the tub. Una definitely enjoyed the show—the ripple of muscles as he moved, the way the water rolled down his back, the little song he hummed while he scrubbed. Perhaps losing wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought.
