Today marks ten years since I posted my first ever chapter of fanfiction - with these characters. So I go back to them once more to celebrate! Thank you for reading!

Alistair couldn't remember ever being so glad to finally stop and make camp. All the walking they had done so far had been nothing compared to today. Not that the walk itself had been hard, but he had been. Thinking of Thora and what they had done in her tent last night, of the way she had felt and tasted and sounded … He'd spent half the day hiding in the woods to avoid letting everyone else in the party know exactly how that experience continued to affect him.

It hadn't helped that Thora seemed perfectly normal. If anything, she was cooler than usual, walking with Leliana or Wynne and keeping her distance from him other than a couple of glances that appeared more amused than lustful.

Which did nothing for Alistair's peace of mind. Quite the opposite, really—he was some odd, frustrating mixture of aroused and terrified. What if she hadn't enjoyed it? What if she didn't want to pursue the relationship? She'd said she loved him, but … what if she didn't? In all of Alistair's life, no one had ever made him feel the way Thora did, and he wasn't sure how he would go on if it turned out that had all been in his head.

By the time they were putting up their tents, he was nearly frantic wanting to know what was going on. Thora put up her tent serenely, and didn't suggest to him that he might not need his. He took all the hardest tasks on—collecting wood and water, hauling things off to be cleaned up—just to work off his pent-up energy before it was reasonably time to go to bed and he could actually ask her what she was thinking.

He'd taken first watch, as well, his thoughts in turmoil. When he came back to camp, only Thora and Leliana were awake, sitting and talking quietly by the embers of the campfire. Both of them rose to their feet as he came in sight, and Leliana winked at him as she went by to start her turn on watch. "Have a good night, Alistair."

Turning to Thora in an agony of uncertainty, he asked, "Am I going to have a good night?"

She came toward him, a smile on her beautiful face. "I certainly hope so. Your tent or mine?"

Alistair's hands closed on her shoulders, holding her there while he looked at her, trying to understand what was happening. "I … You haven't looked at me all day." He knew he sounded ridiculous, but he was beyond caring.

"I thought … Oh, Alistair, I'm sorry. I know I couldn't stop thinking about last night, and … and tonight, and I thought if I came close to you or touched you it would just be more difficult for both of us to get through the day."

"You're probably right, but Maker, I wish you had. I was going crazy, in more ways than one."

"I'm so sorry." She reached a small hand up to caress his cheek.

Alistair closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, feeling the sensation all the way down to his toes. "Can we … go?" He wanted to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her senseless, and he couldn't do that standing out here where Morrigan or Wynne could see him the moment they poked their head out their tent.

"Of course." Thora took his hand and led him to her tent, tying the flap closed behind them.

She had scarcely finished the knot when he gathered her into his arms, where he had dreamed of her being all day. Somehow they were lying on the bedroll, kissing, hands frantically searching for the ties on pants and the buttons on shirts, so hungry for the touch and taste of each other that nothing else mattered.

Their clothes were still half on when he found her center, nearly losing all control at her cry of pleasure. Somehow he managed to hang on long enough to ensure that she had found fulfillment, and then it was like a fire sweeping over his skin, taking all his desperation and fear with it.

When he lay back, feeling Thora tuck herself against his side, her head on his shoulder, he felt satisfied in both body and mind.

Her hand rested on his chest, the fingers idly playing with the hair there. "I'm sorry if I made you worry today."

"Mm. I should have asked."

Thora chuckled. "That you should have. But I shouldn't have assumed you knew I was keeping my distance to avoid—well, to avoid ripping your clothes off in the middle of the King's Highway."

"I wouldn't have minded."

"Oh, that I knew."

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the fingers. "Then you're very mean."

"I could make it up to you."

"What did you have in mind?"

For answer, she lifted herself up on her elbow and kissed him, softly and with meaning. "I love you. Don't ever doubt that again."

Warmth bubbled up inside Alistair, a happiness he had never known. "No one's ever said that to me before."

At that, she kissed him again. "I'm not good at saying it, or showing it, either. Dwarves … well, I'm noble caste and a soldier. I was trained to be reserved—and reminded constantly that if I so much as smiled at a man who hadn't been approved by my family, either he or I or both would be exiled to the Deep Roads."

"That's … horrible."

Thora shrugged. "It was what life was like for everyone; I was no different than any other noble caste woman. But, for you, I'll try to be more … demonstrative."

"You know, you don't have to."

"I don't?"

"No. Just—don't stop talking to me."

She smiled, kissing his chin and his jaw and the hollow of his throat. "I could never. I love the sound of your voice."

That went a long way toward soothing the sting of the day, Alistair's heart warming as Thora stretched up to kiss him once more. "I love talking to you, too. It's the best part of the Blight."

"What a compliment. Lucky me." She laughed, and Alistair kissed her, and all was well with the world—at least in that tent, for that night. Whatever might come later, Alistair was content to leave in the future.