CHAPTER 10

..x..

Author's Note:

Hi guys! First of all, I want to thank Paul Lenzen and Judy for their awesome reviews! I really appreciate them :). Now, before you continue reading I wanted to give you a head's up. There will be a lemon further down and lots of fluff at the end. There will be a warning before it happens. Please feel free to drop me a PM or a review, especially if you see any mistakes I may have missed. Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age (sadly...) this story is just for fun.

It was some time past noon and the sun shone high in the sky, giving the once dreary Redcliffe Village a more cheerful appearance. It was bustling with activity as the survivors continued on with their lives, enjoying the bit of normalcy that had been returned to them. Children played in the square, laughing and chasing each other as if nothing happened. Some fishermen worked on their nets, preparing them for their next catch while others sorted what they'd freshly caught. The scent of baking bread wafted from the huts, mixing with that of fish. Not exactly the most appealing smell, but it was better than the stench of death and blood.

After having somewhat cleaned her armor, Everil was leading some of her companions through the village, stopping by a few shops for supplies. They were to get their equipment washed, fixed, and adjusted for colder weather and she was hoping to hit the road again as soon as Alistair's health allowed it.

The last conversation with him upset her, to say the least. She'd been worried to death about him over an injury he received while saving her life. And she'd felt responsible for placing him in danger when she should've seen those claws coming and avoided them altogether. Now, she wondered if her relationship with him had changed. If to him it was more important to risk it all for their duty than to be with her. Fool... Of course, that should be more important. You're both Grey Wardens.

But she wanted to be selfish. To live as long as possible and be with him every waking moment. She only hoped that, in some form, he felt the same way.

"Are you all right?"

Everil looked at Leliana, who was worriedly staring at her.

"Ah, yes… I am," she replied, smiling a bit. She'd sent Wynne and Morrigan to obtain warm cloaks they could wear and replenish their lyrium potions. The rest were following her, trekking through the village and heading for the blacksmith.

"I am glad Alistair is doing better. For a moment there I thought…" Leliana shook her head with a frown. "Sorry."

"It's fine."

Beside her, Zevran chuckled and grinned at them. "He had this goddess by his side the entire time. Of course, he'd recover."

"Flattery will not get you that bottle of wine, Zevran," said the Warden, sending him a sideways smirk.

"Wine?" He casually laced his fingers behind his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, my lady."

"Sure you don't," she chuckled. Now wasn't the time to dwell on her romantic feelings for her fellow Warden. He was right. There were greater things to worry about as the Blight crawled closer to this very village. They needed to prepare and seek out their dwarven allies as soon as possible.

.x.x.x.x.

"So the Urn might be in a village to the west?" Isolde repeated Alistair's words with hope in her voice, standing a distance from his bed. Teagan sat nearby, legs crossed as he leaned back in the same chair Everil used before.

"Yes. The plan is to go there on our way down from Orzammar after we recruit the dwarven forces against the Blight," Alistair responded, holding a mug of tea Vellore made for him between his hands. Several empty plates were stacked on a tray beside him, waiting for the maids to retrieve them. He'd practically scarfed down the food he'd been brought—all thanks to his Grey Warden appetite and his body's demand for nourishment after two days of unconsciousness.

"I see..." Teagan let out a soft breath, hands clasped over his lap. "I admit I don't much like the waiting part, but there is no other way around it. Your duty against the Blight takes precedence."

"So long as you can save my husband..." Isolde said softly.

The Warden regarded her with sympathy in his stare. It was easy to see the way her shoulders slumped with the weight of her husband's condition. He imagined it couldn't be easy to see the one you loved lying unresponsive for days on end, unable to help or wake them. It was likely just as difficult for Connor to see his father that way. Perhaps more so for him than his mother, considering he made a deal with a demon to help him. "Don't worry, my lady. We'll save him," he assured her confidently. "I owe the arl that much. And we'll need his voice against Loghain if we're to bring him to justice for what he's done to him, the king, and the Grey Wardens."

"Well, Vellore said you should be well enough soon, so you'll be back in the fight in no time." Teagan rose to his feet, a nostalgic smile forming over his face as he folded his arms. "Who would have thought? That the mud-covered boy I once knew would end up fighting to save us all."

"Hah…" Alistair chuckled, humoring him. "You sound like an old man…"

"Well I am like your uncle, you know," Teagan said with a laugh.

"Right… I sometimes forget we're sort of related…" He awkwardly scratched his head. The bann was the brother of his father's late wife. Which technically did make him his and Arl Eamon's nephew by extension through marriage? He was pretty sure Queen Rowan wouldn't have been exactly thrilled to learn of his existence, however.

"We appreciate all you and your friends are doing for us, Alistair," said Isolde, smiling a little. "You have given us hope… so I will make sure to help you, regardless of if you are able to find the Urn or not. I know my voice will not carry as well as my husband's, but I shall try either way."

"Thank you, my lady…"

"At any rate, we should probably let you rest. We'll see you in the morning." Teagan gestured for Isolde to follow him before both of them left the room.

Now alone, he curiously gazed down at his torso and lifted a corner of his shirt. The healer had removed the bandages before her departure, revealing the scars on his side and over his ribs. Thankfully they weren't as bad as he'd expected, but he could only imagine how serious his injuries must have been before Wynne healed him.

Without even thinking, he'd nearly sacrificed himself for Everil—damn the consequences. "Maker... I can't imagine how she felt… I have to make it right somehow…" he muttered to himself, once again feeling like an idiot for having spoken to her the way he did before she left. He sighed and took a sip from his tea, grimacing at the bitter taste. "Ugh, disgusting…"

A light knock drew his curious stare from the drink and to the door. "Come in..." he called. then someone he hadn't expected to see stepped inside. He arched an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing here? Did you come to poke fun at how your mother almost sliced me in two?"

"Hmph..." Morrigan strode casually towards him and lifted her chin, resting a hand over her hip. "I only came to see with my very eyes if you truly survived. Although 'tis difficult not to comment on how incredibly foolish 'twas of you to get in the way of her claws."

"Well, I did survive. Which comes with a bonus for me, because I get to see the disappointed look on your face."

Her eyes darkened, narrowing to slits.

"Hah, and there it is! Yes. Totally worth it," he taunted, pointing a finger at her with a triumphant snicker.

She moodily swatted at his hand, at which he chuckled in amusement, completely ignoring her dirty glare. Alistair then took a drink, making a face at the bitterness before glancing her way. "I thought you and the others had gone to prepare for our journey to Orzammar. How come you're not with them?"

"I was… Your fellow Grey Warden decided it would be a good idea to send me and the Circle mage on an errand. So I quickly did my bidding and returned." Her nose curled as if she'd smelled something rotten. "I cannot stand that preachy, old hag..."

"You can't stand anyone, Morrigan."

"...this is true."

An awkward silence followed. The two only ever yelled at or insulted each other so this was the longest they'd gone without arguing.

And he found it very uncomfortable.

"So..." Alistair cleared his throat. "You're handling your mother's death pretty well."

Morrigan scoffed, unconcerned. "She sought to take over my body. Of course, I will shed no tears over her passing. Still, like I told the other Warden, I doubt she is gone for good."

"That's… reassuring."

"'Twill take her a long time to recover... So she will not be an immediate threat to any of us, for now." She scrutinized him for a moment. He appeared much better than the half-dead shape he was before, if only just physically worn down. She found herself wondering how it was possible for him to have recovered this fast. But what puzzled her the most was the hint of relief she felt upon knowing the idiot wasn't dead.

Alistair didn't notice the irritated look she sent him, his eyes over the sheets covering his legs. "Do you think she'll chase after you again when she comes back?"

"Without a doubt," she huffed. "But to her misfortune, she taught me well. I will be ready when she returns."

"Ah... Good."

Satisfied with her visit, Morrigan spun about and made to leave. "Well, I am off to my room now. I know 'tis impossible for you, but do try not to do anything stupid while we're gone."

Alistair tiredly watched the door close behind her. He stared at it for a moment, blinking a few times. "That was strange…" Had she really come to check on him? He hadn't thought she would even care. He shrugged, deciding not to dwell on the witch's motives too much before downing the rest of the tea. Letting out another nauseated groan, he set the cup on the tray and carefully laid back down. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted.

After the last nightmare, he was almost afraid of going back to sleep. But the healer insisted he rest as much as possible if he didn't want to end up stuck in bed for another day. So he quietly prayed to the Maker, hoping against hope that whatever bad dream the archdemon had in store for him wouldn't be another one about Ostagar.

.x.x.x.x.

Warning: Strong Adult Content Ahead ;)

It was nightfall by the time Everil and her party were done preparing for their trip. They ate and went their separate ways, each one returning to their own rooms in the castle, except for her. She had gone to check on her fellow Warden and found him sleeping soundly under the covers. Something she'd been thankful for, considering she hadn't felt ready to talk to him after what happened.

A fireplace burned in her chosen chamber, spreading its warmth inside the cold stone walls. The cool breeze flowing in from a window made the red curtains sway, the silence almost too relaxing. She was reorganizing her bag over the bed when a yawn interrupted her, causing her eyes to water before she rubbed them with a fist. With all the worrying, she'd only slept a few hours over the last two days. And sleeping on a chair wasn't exactly the most comfortable and restful thing to do. At least tonight she'd be able to sleep better, provided the bad dreams allowed her to.

A whine had her chuckling at Bjorn, who was lying on a rug by the fire. "It's been a long couple of days, huh, boy?"

The dog barked in response.

Still smiling, Everil glanced at the white, long-sleeved nightgown given to her by one of the servants. She was itching to get out of her armor and into something breathable again. A bath, however, was her top priority. She absently scratched her arm at the thought, the dried blood and sweat still clinging to her body making her feel utterly disgusting. Thankfully, the same servant who kindly provided her with something else to wear had also prepared her a nice, hot tub.

After stripping, she slid into the deliciously warm waters, letting out a blissful sigh as her tense, aching muscles finally relaxed. She reached for the small table beside her and grabbed the washrag to scrub the grime off her skin. The scent of lavender graced her nose, further lifting her spirits in spite of how tired she was. Oh, how she'd missed being able to bathe like this every day, instead of having to use tiny streams and cold lakes.

She was once one of the privileged, with clean clothes, fresh baths and daily meals in a lavish castle. Now, she wandered through the lands, camping out in the wilderness and eating only what they managed to hunt or whatever they carried with them along the way. It was humbling, to say the least, and it gave her a completely different perspective on how the commoners lived their lives every day.

Thoughts of her family drifted to her weary mind as she stood and stepped out of the tub. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland had been the type of rulers who cared for their people, but they likely never knew what it was like to spend a day in their shoes. She wondered if they would be proud of her. Of what she accomplished thus far with the help of so many of the common folk.

Feeling refreshed, Everil threw on the gown and tied the long cord over her chest. She smiled wistfully, moving to the dresser by the fire and standing before the mirror. Lithe fingers combed through her hair, undoing some of the knots as she reminisced about their loving faces.

A knock yanked her from that lonesome reverie, her head craning in its direction. "Coming…" Everil called and curiously sauntered to the door, the floor chilling her bare feet. Who could it be at this hour? I barely found a servant on my way here… She opened it, expecting the bann or someone else from her party, but to her surprise, it was him.

"Alistair...?" She blinked, keeping her voice down. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I… Uh… I need to talk to you," he stammered awkwardly, his tone just as soft.

Everil frowned, relieved to see him up and moving but still hesitant to face him. "Can't it wait until morning? You should be resting..."

"I promise I'm feeling much better now…" He anxiously gazed at his feet, wringing his hands while pleading to her. "May I come in? Please?"

"Very well…" she sighed defeatedly and moved aside. "But the moment I notice anything bothering you, I'm sending you straight back to bed."

"Yes, right..." He walked in, then saw her close the door. "The guard at my door told me you came by a while ago... How was the trip to the village?"

"Good. The smithy said he would have your armor and the rest of our equipment repaired and delivered to us by morning. We should be able to leave soon after, just like you wanted." She strode past him, her words carrying an edge of irritation.

So she's still upset… Alistair thought guiltily, seeing her go to the only window in the room. Her back was to him, the soft breeze brushing over her flowing garb.

"That's actually—" He croaked and awkwardly cleared his throat. "—what... What I wanted to speak with you about."

Her silence hung heavily over them as he padded towards her, the hound observing him from where he lay while sensing his nerves. Alistair stopped a step from her and swallowed. "I Uhm… I'm sorry for what I said. It was stupid of me."

With a breath, Everil shot him a sideways glance and moodily folded her arms. She leaned against the windowsill, admiring the vastness of Lake Calenhad as the moon reflected over its surface. Another soft breeze gently picked up her dark locks, the silky waves caressing her face as they dried with the wind. For a second he thought she was too angry to talk. That she wouldn't respond to his pathetic apology. But then her quiet voice reached him, barely loud enough for him to hear. "I thought I lost you…"

And the emotion in those words filled him with remorse. Maker, how foolish he'd been for not thinking about her feelings when he opened his mouth. How stupid it was of him to not see how much she'd been hurting over him.

"Everil…" He came closer and cupped her cheek with a calloused hand. That gentle touch destroyed what remained of her reins over her emotions, causing tears to roll freely from her eyes as he utterly hated himself for being the source. "I'm sorry…" Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her to him as he sought to comfort her. "I'm so sorry... Please forgive me... "

After a pause, she shook her head and weakly returned his embrace. "It was my fault... had I been more careful... You wouldn't have—"

"No..." he interjected, resting his stubbled chin atop her head. "There was no way you could've predicted what happened. Or are you going to tell me that you've fought a scary old witch-dragon thing before? Because now that I think of it, I'd probably believe you."

She let out a half-hearted chuckle, muffled by his shirt. "No… I haven't..."

"See? You have nothing to blame yourself for…" Alistair withdrew slowly, gently lifting her chin until their eyes met. "Besides… If I had to sacrifice myself for you again, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

"What…?" Her brow creased in puzzlement. "But, w-why...?"

"Because I simply can't imagine myself without you… Not ever." He intently searched her sky-blue pools, thumbs carefully wiping tears from her face. "I love you, Everil… More than anything."

Happiness spread through her heart as she stared at his handsome features, her worries and sadness vanishing into nothingness. She hadn't realized how long she waited for him to say those words. To know that what they felt for each other was real and true. "I…" she choked out, smiling brightly through her weeping. "I love you too…"

"Hmm…" Alistair leaned down, their noses touching as his own heartbeat with joy. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say it..." And he kissed her. Slowly, gently, until her lips parted for him, granting him a drink from her well as she too sought a satiate her thirst. His tongue leisurely explored her, waltzing with hers as she sighed blissfully. Her warmth and delicious moisture gradually coated his senses, saturating them before she became all he could taste, smell, and feel.

"Hm..." He released a hot breath, kissing her more passionately as his hands wandered to her hips. His teeth nibbled on her bottom lip and he sucked on her tongue, his boldness earning him a low, needy moan as she reciprocated the deed. Maker, how he craved to touch her and hold her bare curves against him. How he wanted to hear more of those moans as he pleasured her. The craving quickly grew too difficult to ignore and his self-control cracked like glass.

Heat surged through her as he greedily devoured her lips, stealing her breath away. She gasped for air and he veered down, trailing moist kisses along her jaw and to her neck before running his tongue over her raging pulse.

A groan escaped her, the wet sensation setting her body aflame in spite of the shivers quaking her. Laden with need, Everil rubbed her hips against his, noticing the hard bulge now pressing against her firm belly.

"I can't take it anymore..." he breathed into her skin, then hurriedly trailed his way up, seeking her mouth again. "I want you…" His tongue caressed her own once more as he spoke between sloppy kisses, his much deeper voice sending chills down her spine. "I want to spend the night with you..."

His request intensified the tingling sensation between her legs, the moisture in her sex telling her that she craved him too. Everil whimpered weakly, anxious and maddeningly aroused. "Are... are you sure?"

Alistair pulled back enough to gaze at her through half-lidded eyes, the raw hunger in them causing her to throb. "I wanted it to be... special... for both of us," he panted, resting his forehead against hers. "But after what happened, I realized just how... fragile our time together truly is... That there might never be a special time or place for us, not while we're in the middle of all this…"

"Alistair…"

"I don't want to wait anymore..." He lightly kissed her again, barely able to contain himself. "I want my first time to be with you... In case one of us..."

She bit her lip, finding his bittersweet words both sad and endearing. Death was constantly looming over them, and it would only take one mistake for it to claim them one day. They had no choice but to enjoy each moment as if it were their last. To relish each other until the end. A smile spread over her face and she hoped he couldn't hear the wild drumming of her heartbeat. "I agree…"

"Does that mean...?" he prompted expectantly.

"Yes…" she sensually whispered against his lips. "You can have me… all of me."

And that was all he needed to hear for his restraint to shatter into a million pieces. Starving lips claimed hers once more, their tongues wrestling in a more clumsy, yet fervent kiss. They moaned, mouths still locked in a sensual dance as Alistair led her backward, their feet shuffling towards the bed waiting behind her.

Dark hair showered over the pillow when he lay her down, her legs spreading for him as his body pinned hers to the mattress. That he was nervous was an understatement, this being his first time. But he focused on the way their tongues wrestled fervently, on how she buried her fingers into his hair, and on those firm breasts against his chest.

His hand slithered down her leg and up again, dragging the fabric of her gown to expose more of her flesh to his fingertips. Alistair huffed between kisses, absently grinding his pelvis against hers as pure instinct drove him. As he did, his erection stroked her aching parts, her underwear doing nothing to shield her from his cruel taunting.

Everil whined in anticipation as his hand slid over her bare thigh and to her hip, leaving a sizzling trail that earned him a sensual moan. He shuddered with pent up desire, yearning to hear more of those lustful sounds. To please her into oblivion, regardless of his inexperience. Panting heavily, Alistair broke from their kiss and gazed at her clothes, suddenly seeing them as nothing but an annoying obstacle. His impatient fingers untied the ribbon keeping her gown in place while her lips brushed along his jaw, almost breaking his concentration as he worked.

He pulled on the crisscrossed cord until it was no longer in his way, then moved to kneel between her legs. Nervous hands gently spread her clothes apart as he watched intently, swallowing thickly while slowly sliding the white wool over her pale shoulders. And then her chest lay bare and at his mercy, his eyes tracing the curve of her supple breasts as they rose and fell with every breath. He saw her shiver when the cool air graced her bosom, her pink, hard peaks beckoning him to touch them. To soothe them.

"Alistair...?" She called weakly, feeling vulnerable and insecure upon never having shown her body to any man before.

"So beautiful…" He lowered himself atop her, his mouth enveloping one of her firm nipples. A lustful moan escaped her as he sucked on the sensitive bud, sending electricity shooting straight to her core. She arched to him and whined when his tongue swept over the peak, flicking it as he cupped her other mound. More moans were his reward as he massaged, and fondled, and squeezed, her glazed stare locked with his as she watched him focus only on her.

"Maker…" Everil mewled, loins aching for him as she squirmed beneath him. Sensing her need, he released her bosom and smirked, feeling braver than ever. He leaned back on his knees and pulled off his shirt, revealing sculpted abs to her while carelessly tossing away the piece of clothing. The light of the fire allowed her to see the angry scars on his torso, and she gulped, reaching for him. He rested a hand by her head and let her caress his chest, quivering under her delicate fingers. His muscles flexed where she touched, goosebumps rising in her wake before she worriedly traced his marks.

Seeing her concern, Alistair took her hand in his and tenderly kissed her palm. "Don't worry, my dear…" he whispered while lowering himself upon her, purring against her jaw, "It doesn't hurt as much anymore…"

"All right..." she said numbly before his mouth was on hers again, tongues sparring as her palms slid over his hard muscles and broad shoulders. Still locked in the kiss, Everil rolled them over, straddling his hips while he released a surprised grunt. Her mouth then traveled south to his pounding pulse and she ran her tongue over his jugular, making him shiver and gasp. Driven by her need, she absently moved her hips back and forth, her warm center stroking his imprisoned manhood and making him twitch as he groaned hungrily.

His hands wandered up her legs, then up her rear, following her curves while attempting to take off her clothes. And she sat up to help him, pulling her gown all the way off. Her heart raced with anticipation, her guards dropping around her as she allowed him a full view of her nearly naked body. She felt him pulse beneath her sex at the sight, his reaction drawing a tiny chuckle out of her. "Like what you see?"

He squeezed her rear and groaned, "Very…"

Everil ran both hands up his chest as she went for another kiss, moaning when his pelvis bucked against her. Their tongues danced as she continued the subtle rock of her hips, her warm parts massaging him each time he kneaded her firm behind. They moaned and groaned and gasped into their kiss while her mind-numbing foreplay dragged on too long, the pressure in his groin rising until his patience evaporated.

She squealed when he rolled them over, then he took hold of her undergarment, pulling it down her hips before promptly ridding himself of it. Alistair spread her knees and knelt between her long legs as he untied the string on his trousers, seeking to release his manhood from its cage. Everil bit her lip and watched as he slid his pants off along with his breeches, anxious to see more of him. But she didn't get a chance to get a good look at him, for his mouth was on hers again and he was already pressing against her sex.

Leaning on his forearm, Alistair gripped himself and tried to find her entrance, the tip of his manhood instead touching her clit and making her whine impatiently. Now desperate, she reached between them and wrapped her fingers around him, drawing a surprised grunt from him while she shivered at his girth. She gulped and helped guide him between her wet folds until both of them found their way. Everil whined feebly when he entered her, painfully stretching her as his mouth muffled her cries.

The new sensation drew a low, drawn-out moan out of him as she enveloped him, taking hold of him. He went deeper and deeper, shivering at how delicious she felt. Another whimper made him withdraw from their kiss to gaze upon her, brow furrowed worriedly at the discomfort painting her features.

She licked her lips, arms slithering over his shoulders. "I'm fine…"

"All right…" he whispered, tenderly kissing her temple before carefully sliding from within her. He drew back until he was almost out of her and deliberately slid in, eyes staring into hers as Everil whined quietly. Then he retracted and gradually glided into her moist folds once more, his movements gentle and uncertain as he allowed her some time for the ache to pass. Yet the slow drag was heaven, producing waves of pleasure while they discovered each other, exploring forbidden land as he buried himself in her over and over.

A guttural groan escaped him as her walls stroked his shaft with just the right pressure. "Maker… you feel so good…"

"Oh, so do you…" she moaned into his ear and he shuddered and thrust a little harder, earning a pleased squeal from her. Wet sounds came from where they were joined as he trailed along her depths, the noise and her sweet, musky scent saturating his senses. His mouth traveled along her throat as he moaned with her, the heat rising between them as sweat began to coat their skin.

His thrusts were off tempo at first, the timing a little inconsistent, but gradually he found his rhythm. Her hands roamed his broad back, admiring the strength of his muscles as they shifted beneath her palms when he moved. Maker how she longed for more of him. For all of him. She whimpered and bit her lip as her legs circled him and her hips clumsily rocked to his in a silent request. And he promptly obliged, thrusting faster into her and shattering her ability to think as her moans grew louder.

"Hrm…" Alistair cupped one of her mounds, fondling it in lazy circles, then pinching her nipple while she squealed as her pelvis bucked to meet his. And he wanted nothing but to pleasure her more. To hear more of that sensual voice of hers. So he adjusted his legs, slightly propped up her bottom and plunged harder into her at a different angle. The change instantly got him what he wanted, and more as Everil cried out his name. At the rapid beat of a drum, he hit that sweet spot within her, hard and deep as slapping sounds joined her passionate screams.

"Oh, Maker! Oh, Maker!" Everil chanted ardently as she clung to him, fingernails digging into his back as the coil in her core tensed, ready to snap.

Her tightening walls and the maddening friction were quickly reeling him towards the precipice, the pressure building to the breaking point. He clenched his jaw and grabbed on to the bedsheets, willing himself to hold in his climax for her. But he didn't have to wait long.

Three hard pumps sent her plummeting over the edge and Everil screamed, intense pleasure sweeping her away. Her throbbing insides dragged him along with her and he let out a strangled cry as his warm seed spilled into her. Her loins greedily drank his offering, pulsing around him as she spasmed beneath him.

He continued to slide in and out of her now soaked folds, riding the electrifying waves until they gradually ebbed away. For a long moment, they remained in each other's arms, struggling to catch their breaths, blissfully numb. Then Alistair nuzzled the crook of her neck and released a heavy sigh.

"Hmm, tell me something…" Everil tilted her head, enjoying the gentle kisses he was lovingly sprinkling along the side of her throat.

"What, love…?"

"Uhm…" Her racing heart fluttered at the endearment. "Where does a Templar… learn how to do that?"

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Not at the Chantry... According to the sisters, I should have been struck by lighting by now…"

"Is that so…? I thought it was you doing that…"

He laughed a little and carefully leaned up to look over her sweat-streaked features. Her bangs were clinging to her face, framing her blushing skin. He smiled and softly caressed her cheek, the earlier hunger in his stare replaced by gentle tenderness. "I love you…"

"I love you too…" she murmured, closing her eyes as he kissed her lips. Yes, she hadn't been this happy before. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. And she found herself wishing for this moment to never end. To remain in this small piece of paradise together with him, forever.

.x.x.x.x.

Something moist lapping at his cheek brought Alistair out from his slumber and his eyes slowly opened to see the wide, black nose of a dog. He stared at it with a confused expression, his mind still clouded with sleep. Then its large tongue licked his face again, drawing a slight groan out of him while finally reminding him of where he was. "You were here the entire time…?" he muttered groggily, gently petting his head with a lopsided smirk. "Hopefully you're not smart enough to be traumatized by what you saw last night."

Bjorn whined with a questioning tilt of his head.

"Heh... I guess we don't have to worry about you, after all." Alistair scratched behind the hound's ear, then lovingly gazed at the woman still sleeping beside him. Her head lay upon his breast, an arm limp across his torso as he held her. She mumbled incoherently, her face scrunched up while she dreamt. The nightmares were no doubt worse than his, the taint still new in her blood. He brushed her hair, sympathy in his stare. "Everil..."

"Hmm…?" Everil stirred awake, blinking in numb puzzlement, the dreams so vivid that it took some time for her mind to adjust to reality. She craned her head up to gaze at him, slightly dazed yet visibly better rested than the day before.

"Good morning..." Alistair murmured while softly stroking her arm, the feather-like is touch sending shivers down her spine.

"Morning…" she purred and laid back down, snuggling against him.

Careful fingers continued to comb through her wavy locks. "Shouldn't we be getting out of bed?"

"In a minute… Not looking forward to the next trip…"

"Oh, come on... I'm sure a walk through the freezing mountains won't be so bad. Especially while listening to our little party chat about how we slept together last night."

She lifted her head to look at him. "You think they heard us?"

"The walls in the castle aren't as thick as they seem, you know. That, and you were pretty loud," he teased, grinning proudly while twirling a lock of her hair.

"I was…?" Her face heated up in shame at having sung an entire repertoire to the whole household. She huffed, completely failing to hide the embarrassment behind her pride. "Well, if they say anything, I'll feed them to the darkspawn."

"Aww... See? This is why I love you..." Alistair chuckled, rolling onto his side as he embraced her. He tenderly kissed her forehead and his features softened as he observed her flushed face, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So… what now? Where do we go from here?"

The question made her cling to him, holding him tightly. She nuzzled his chest, basking in his soothing presence while taking in his masculine scent. There was no way she'd let go of him now. "We stay together… no matter what happens."

"Right… I can handle that, I hope…" he replied quietly into her dark tresses.

His entire naked body was pressed against her own and she could feel the contour of his muscles and his warmth. And Everil bit her lip, ignoring the lingering soreness from her lost maidenhood as the way his manhood brushed against her thigh rekindled her arousal. Breathing softly, she sprinkled gentle kisses over his pecs, earning a quiet moan from him.

"Hrmm… I wish we had a bit more time…" he uttered, the rough edge back in his voice as his fingertips trailed along her naked back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Everil shifted to gaze up at him and his amber eyes caught hers, staring intently into them. Her heartbeat quickened, finding herself entranced by his stare before he slowly leaned over to lightly press his lips to hers. She sighed, her hands sliding up his chest as she whispered, "Perhaps we do…"

With a low, needy moan, he kissed her, deeply, passionately. He explored her mouth with his tongue as she did his, thirsty for each other once more. And he rolled her onto her back, pinning her down as her arms slithered around his neck.

But just as he got between her legs, several knocks on the door instantly shattered the moment.

Alistair groaned moodily and broke away from their kiss, plopping his face into her pillow and releasing a frustrated sigh. "Or not…"

More knocks came, this time more insistent.

"I should probably get that..." she breathed in disappointment.

He reluctantly let go of her, allowing her to slide off the bed while sitting up with a huff. After adjusting the sheets over his legs, he took a pillow and covered his still slightly erect manhood with it, all the while staring intently at her nude body. His eyes followed her tempting curves, traveling down to her perfectly rounded backside as she bent over to pick up her clothing from the floor.

She threw on her gown as another knock sounded out, followed by Teagan's voice. "Lady Everil? Are you in there?"

"Hold a moment." Everil quickly tied the cord over her chest to ensure her bosom was covered. She adjusted her hair, trying to at least look somewhat presentable. Her feet then took her to the door and she opened it, revealing an alarmed Teagan. "What's wrong?" she asked, frowning worriedly.

"I went to see Alistair and he wasn't in his room. Have you—" He looked past her shoulder, spotting the man currently waving at him from her bed.

"Uh…" His gaze shifted to her, promptly taking notice of her somewhat tousled hair and flushed cheeks.

"Did you need me for something, Teagan?" Alistair asked casually, laughing inwardly at the awkward look he was giving them.

"Uhm, no… I just…" He cleared his throat. "I wanted to see how you were doing, but obviously you're feeling better."

"Yes, I am. Better than ever." Alistair gave Everil a pointed look, to which she responded with a playful roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.

"Erm, glad to hear it!"

She regarded the bann, going straight to business and drawing the poor man's attention. "Bann Teagan, has the blacksmith delivered a package for us?"

"He may have… I believe some townsmen were helping Isolde's maid carry something from the village."

"Good…" Everil gave a firm nod, then turned to Alistair. "Vellore said you should stay here for another day. Are you certain you'll be all right if we travel today? It just seems too soon…"

"Yes, my dear… No need to worry," he attempted to reassure her.

But she kept on a stern expression. "Swear to me, Alistair. Swear that you won't just fall off your horse on our way to Orzammar."

"Erm… I swear I'm healed enough to do what needs to be done." He half-grinned, scratching the back of his head. "But I can't promise I won't fall off the horse… You know I just happen to have that kind of luck."

Everil sighed at his joke. "Very well... But I want you to be careful, and tell me the moment you start to feel unwell. Is that clear?"

"Of course," he replied, giving her an adoring smile. Maker, she looked so beautiful... Standing there in her sleeping robe, hair still a mess, ordering him around with that no-nonsense look of hers.

Meanwhile, Teagan watched the exchange, feeling somewhat out of place. He cleared his throat again, the two Wardens returning their stares to him. "All right. I will ask the stableman to prepare your horses…" he said, then strode away and down the hall as she shut the door, once again addressing Alistair. "Your armor will probably be sent to your room…"

"All right, then I guess I should go get ready." He climbed off the bed, his body in full display as he sought his trousers. Everil glanced over his chiseled muscles, admiring him as he dressed. He threw on his shirt, then headed towards her, petting Bjorn as he passed him by. He paused before her, then softly kissed her lips. "I'll see you downstairs."

"Right…" Everil replied quietly before he left. Her door closed again and she gazed at her hound, seeing him watching her curiously. A light chuckle escaped the Warden as she approached him, kneeling to his level to scratch his ears. "I'm sorry about last night, boy… I suppose we'll have to do things a little differently from now on."

Bjorn whined and licked her cheek, drawing another soft laugh from his mistress.