This chapter is for Biff McLaughlin, with best wishes for a speedy recovery! It's set during the Blight, after their first kiss (and before Wynne's lecture).

The campfire crackled in front of her, the heat of it warming Thora clear through; but it was nothing compared to the heat emanating from Alistair's leg where it pressed against hers. She felt utterly ridiculous about this. They'd shared exactly one kiss, but ever since she'd been able to think of nothing but him. When he was near her, as he was now, he filled her every sense—she could practically taste his skin, or at least she imagined she could. Yet he seemed unaffected. He was joking with Leliana right now, casually eating his stew as though Thora wasn't slowly burning to death next to him.

She ate automatically from her own bowl, the food tasteless and gummy in her mouth. Alistair shifted next to her so that his thigh rubbed against hers, and she felt the movement deep in the pit of her stomach. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he was doing that on purpose. Foolish, she chided herself. She was the one who was supposed to be experienced here. Alistair had admitted that he'd never been with a woman, and the tentative awkwardness of his kiss had proved he wasn't lying. But oh, how warm he had made her, awkwardness included.

Leliana came around to collect the bowls, casting a knowing and curious glance at Thora as she did so, a glance that Thora refused to answer. Alistair didn't move, and Thora seemed incapable of tearing herself away from the heat of his body, her legs gone limp and boneless on her.

Wynne and Leliana both retired to their tents, and Thora managed to mutter good-nights to them both. Leliana disappeared with an arch, curious look; Wynne with a more concerned glance. Morrigan, of course, remained hunched over her precious grimoire at her own fire, oblivious to what went on at the main fire.

Once they were alone, Alistair sighed loudly. "I thought they'd never go to bed. Maybe now I can get up."

"Maybe—I'm sorry, don't let me keep you."

"What?" He glanced over, alarmed by her frosty tone. "No, no, not that at all! Quite the opposite, actually. I think standing up would be rather … embarrassing right now." He looked down at his lap, his cheeks flushed red.

"Oh!" Relief poured through her as she grasped his meaning. Maybe she wasn't the only one turned foolish and helpless by these feelings.

"You probably don't feel it," he said, "but sitting here next to you … all I can think of is what it might be like to … touch you." The last words were spoken in a gravelly whisper that made Thora want to slide off the log into a puddle, and to kiss him immediately.

She settled for the next best thing. Her heart pounding, she picked up his big hand and placed it on her thigh. "Please do."

"Really? You mean it?" He cast her an anxious look. "I was afraid, after you saw how bad I was at kissing …"

Of its own volition a smile spread across her face. "Practice makes perfect."

Alistair's hand closed on her thigh, the big fingers kneading the muscles there, and Thora caught her breath. "I might just take you up on that," he whispered. His free hand caught her chin, turning her face around to his, and Thora's eyes fluttered closed as his mouth moved closer to hers. Their lips met, and Thora let her head fall back, her mouth opening for him. Tentatively Alistair accepted the invitation for what it was, his tongue finding hers almost apologetically.

Thora threw her arms around his neck, nearly toppling both of them off the log in her fervor. She was rewarded by Alistair's sudden groan and by his arm sweeping around her waist, pulling her against him.

How long they kissed Thora didn't know, but at last they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Heat was pooling between her legs, and she wanted him. "Will you … will you come to my tent?"

"What, tonight?" There was blank panic in his eyes.

Thora drew away, miserably sure she had just committed some terrible mistake. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No." He caught her hand, bringing her back against his side. "I want to. I wish I could. It's just … I've never done this before, and I never expected to be able to do it at all, what with the Templars and everything, and I—I want it to be special."

"Special?"

Alistair nodded. "I want it to—to mean something. Thora, I care about you, you know that, but I think I could … I think I could more than care, and I want to be sure." He looked at her closely. "Were you in love with your first?"

Startled, Thora frowned. She tried to remember her first. It had been one of a small group of nobles who had experimented together in their early teens, she knew that much, but which one, and when, and how, were lost in her memory, buried by more important things. She shook her head. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Sad, I would say," Alistair said. "Didn't you want to be in love first?"

"I never thought about it that way. It was just … part of my education, really. Truthfully, Alistair, I never expected to fall in love at all. As a princess, I'd have been expected to marry eventually, but my father would have chosen the man based on his caste and position. Emotions wouldn't have come into it. We'd have tried for children, but he'd also have had his noble-hunters, in an attempt to conceive boys to carry on the family name. I never …" She started to claim that she'd never thought of choosing a man for herself, but she couldn't say that. For a long time, she'd wished more than anything that Gorim had been a noble. Him, she'd thought even then she might have been able to love.

"I never expected to fall in love, either. Eamon made it rather clear that my particular branch of the Theirins was to end with me, and the Revered Mother made it even more clear that Templars never had carnal thoughts. But I dreamed … I always dreamed of a woman who would see me as more than my father's son, more than a Templar or a swordsman, one who could look at me and see all the things I'd always had to hide from everyone." He glanced shyly at her from under his eyelashes. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

"No, Alistair, it doesn't sound stupid at all." Thora stood up, looking him in the eyes. "I think you must be the strongest person I've ever met, to withstand all of that with your dreams intact. If you want to wait, then that's what I want, too." She smiled at him, a smile that came straight from her heart, and they remained there, embracing each other with foolish smiles on their faces, until Wynne emerged from her tent and snappishly informed them that they were supposed to wake her up for her turn at watch an hour ago.