Elena woke with a start, her cheeks wet. Had she been crying in her sleep? Asleep next to her, Alistair murmured and rolled over. He started snoring lightly. He was so adorable when he was asleep; he looked younger, less worried, more like the young Grey Warden she had first met and not the king he was today.
She hadn't woken up crying in years, not since the Archdemon dreams. No, this time it wasn't the darkspawn that bothered her sleep; it was the faces of Oren and Oriana, her late nephew and sister in law, that haunted her. She had dreamed about finding them- dead- again, with her mother. In the dream, her mother had blamed her. Tears sprang to her eyes again. She didn't want to wake Alistair, not when he needed his rest so badly, but she couldn't stifle the accompanying sobs and sniffles. His snores stopped and he lifted his head, looking over his shoulder at her.
"Elena?" he asked. "Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?" When she didn't answer, he rolled to face her and lifted his hand to wipe her eyes.
"Is it- do you think-" he started. "Is it the Calling?" When she shook her head, he looked relieved despite himself. "What's wrong, dear?"
"I had a dream about my family," she said. "The night Howe attacked." She had told him the broad strokes of the attack but had saved the details for herself. Elena had never been good with emotional conversations, and this was no exception. Alistair shifted closer to her and put his arm around her.
"Sometimes I have dreams about Ostagar," he said. "I dream about Duncan dying on the field, alone."
"It was my fault, though," she said. "If I had been quicker to wake- or quicker to see Howe for what he was- they might be alive today."
"I'm sorry," Alistair said, looking unsure how to respond. "Would a sarcastic, self-deprecating comment make you feel better?" Elena laughed, wiping her eyes on her nightgown. (Not that she particularly wanted to wear a nightgown, but advisers barged in at all hours about matters of state, and it wouldn't do for their queen to be in a full state of undress- as she had been told, repeatedly).
"I don't think it was your fault, at all," he said. "There's no way you could have expected Howe to betray your family. You were so young. And besides, then Duncan wouldn't have recruited you and you never would have met me." Elena laughed again.
"Maker forbid," she said. "I would have missed so many excellent jokes."
He lightly kissed her forehead and drew her closer. Her stomach fluttered. After so many years, he could still make her feel like a teenager again. She sighed.
"I know, logically, that it wasn't my fault," she said, "but I still feel that way. Does that make sense?"
"I know exactly what you mean," Alistair said. "I feel the same way about Ostagar. Like had we been quicker to light the tower, or had I demanded to be on the field with Duncan, things might have been different."
"Had you been on the field with him, you likely would have died, too," Elena said matter-of-factly. "And Ferelden would have missed out on a great king." He smiled at her, looking into her eyes.
"No, they would have missed out on a great queen, and the poor sap she married," he said. "Maybe talking to Fergus would help you. I'm sure he feels the same way."
Elena wrinkled her nose. "I love Fergus, but we don't really talk about emotions. We mainly talk about Mabari, and how old we've gotten, but never the attack."
"Well, maybe you should start talking about it," Alistair said. Elena put a hand on his cheek and kissed him slowly, savoring the moment alone- moments so rare nowadays. She turned over and Alistair pulled her closer, putting an arm over her. She would never forget what had happened that night, but for the moment at least it didn't feel so close.