It's been a hot minute since I updated, my apologies! Summer A semester has had me in the library for more hours that I can count, but my classes are almost finished so I should have more time to write.

Thank you for your patience and your support, it means a lot to me. This chapter is a little longer, I hope you enjoy!

The Hawke mansion stood tall among the Hightown villas, the looming structure in the darkening evening a familiar welcome for its owner and his elven friend. Hawke reached into his belt and stuck the ornate gold key into his front door, glancing to the brightest blue-green eyes beside him.

"Alright; fire first, wine second," Hawke murmured as he held his front door open for his companion. She slipped into the dark building, the only light the faint lingering sun peaking through the tall windows. His mansion was dark, silent, and empty, his mother on some trip to distant friends in Orlais.

Hawke unclipped the harness on his chest holding the two-handed sword to his back, the weight a noticeable difference off his shoulders as he placed it onto his weapon stand in the foyer. He went to work on the many clasps and buckles holding together all his armor, and glanced up as Lyra walked further into his home, glancing over her shoulder to catch his gaze.

"I'll light the fire," she offered, and he nodded, hurrying to rid himself of the many layers of metal plates on his body, battered from use. He heard her snap her fingers around the corner by the fireplace and an instant fire lit up the space into light, his house now illuminated for them to see. He glanced up to see her long red braid sway along her back; her tunic and cut-off trousers plain and comfortable and her boots somehow already off, giving him a glimpse at the tattoos that spread down her legs.

She's a better hostess than I, in my own home. His mouth twitched in a smile, eyes caught briefly on how the chestnut tattoos gracing her forehead and spiraling around her forearms happened to be highlighted by the firelight angle. He blinked up to meet her curious gaze feeling his stare, and he glanced away quickly, focusing on getting his last piece of armor off. Maker her eyes are stunning.

"Wine's in the kitchen," he called over to her as he slid his last grieve off his leg hurriedly, throwing the piece unceremoniously onto his entry table before walking to join her.

"Oh," he heard her say softly to herself as he joined her in his kitchen, her back facing him as she stood near the counter. She turned to look at him, her blue-greens wide, her hands hovering a few inches away from the case in reverence. "Aedan this is old."

"Yeah," he grinned at her, joining her at the counter and lighting a hand on the back of her shoulder, happy memories of his mother figure friend who gave him this gift. He pulled out a bottle from the case, Lyra brushing his hand as she received it from him. "My friend in the Capitol kitchens said the nobles could do without."

Lyra gasped jokingly, giving him a look that barely masked her smile. "You wouldn't tell me you stole this fine wine from our very own city government," she asked as she procured a knife and stabbed the tip into the cork of a bottle. Hawke's grin widened and he leaned forward to hold the bottle steady for her, his voice the sound of innocence.

"Oh of course not, my Lady," he held the bottle down on the counter as she uncorked it, the loud pop sound satisfying, but not as satisfying as the quiet giggle he elected from her. He looked down at her from where he stood above her side, his arm still around her holding the bottle. She blinked up at him, her cheeks blushing softly from how close they were, his insides tingling from how she returned his grin. He cocked his head, giving her a broad smile, and teased quietly. "My dear, you are in the presence of a lawful gentleman!"

"Well, I knew that," she winked smoothly as she reached up to his cupboards and got two wine glasses down, and Hawke poured them each a generous serving of the deep red liquid.

They stood together at the counter as they each took a glass, raising it to the other.

"To spice," Lyra cocked her head at him challengingly, her eyes smiling mischievously with her toast. Her spicy curry will kill me, won't it? Hawke breathed in deeply, letting out a hard sigh and raising his glass to meet hers, nodding and raising an eyebrow to her meaningfully.

"To mercy," he begged, giving her a look that said, have mercy on the mild tongues. They shared a smile as they tasted their wine, Lyra's eyes widening at him and Hawke straightening up abruptly in shock.

Shit this stuff is strong.

"Wow," Lyra murmured while raising the back of her hand to her mouth to hide her fluster, setting the glass down and glancing up to him with appreciation. Hawke nodded to her, eagerly taking another sip.

"I may not be able to handle spice but I sure as hell can handle my booze," he chuckled to himself, and Lyra's brow rose again, a curious spark in her eye.

"Can you, now?" she asked aloofly, turning to reach for her pack with her cooking ingredients. Hawke looked at her as she reached up again to his cupboards to get his pot and pan, her hands practiced and her eyes flashing him with a curious glint. He stared until she returned his gaze unfalteringly, and the corner of his mouth rose with an eyebrow as he downed his full glass in a few gulps, her sharp eyes still locked onto his like the huntress she was.

"It's why I brought a whole case," he started calmly, leaning and reaching forward to grab the bottle, causing her to lean back slightly in surprise when he brushed into her. "I thought we'd probably go through a few bottles, at least. Am I correct, my Lady?"

She cocked her head but her smile flashed at him, her eyes regarding him that barely masked excitement. She brought her glass to her lips and downed her wine as well. "I do believe you are, Master Hawke. I trust you can continue this pace of drinking, and still slice vegetables without cutting any fingers?"

Hawke cocked his head back at her, having a hard time keeping his gaze from falling to look at her full lips, smiling at him so subtly. He locked eyes with her as he poured her another glass, then bowed to her chivalrously, looking up to her and catching her blush. "I am at your disposal, Chef."

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"Wait, okay, Aedan, please explain it to me once more," Lyra scrunched her face in confusion as she studied the tiny white cylinder of sugar gelatin. Hawke held a few marshmallows in his hands, the two of them sitting on the floor in front of his couch, their empty curry plates set to the side and their wine glasses well worn.

"These," he held them up for her to see, "are the beginning to the absolute, most incredible, awe-inspiring, life-changing dessert you've ever experienced. I pass this Hawke family tradition down from my father's family." he bumped into her slightly, balance slightly off from the many glasses of wine coursing through his veins. Lyra 'hmphed' doubtedly, bright eyes under dark tattoos glancing up to search his.

"But I may not taste it, just yet? It needs to be cooked?"

"Yes," Hawke grabbed his wine and scooted over to the fireplace, beckoning her eagerly for her to follow, her own wine glass in hand. "The true magic lies in the roasting."

Lyra cocked her head interestedly as she joined him at the foot of the fire, tucking her feet under her and sitting forward to watch him prepare his talked-up treat. He procured thin metal rods meant for kabobs, and skewered his marshmallow onto the tip. He drank from his glass before gaining her attention.

"This is the skillful part. To make the perfectly roasted marshmallow, one must aim more for the coals rather than the flames, for the coals are hotter and will melt the inside into a melty gooey goodness. Turn it slowly, like this," he demonstrated rotating the marshmallow, his concentration fully on his work, watching the edges turn a beautiful golden brown, carefully turning it at the precise speed-

"Ah shit," Lyra cursed, and Hawke glanced over quickly to see her retract her own skewered marshmallow from the fire's flames, the poor sugar blob caught on fire like a torch and blackening fast.

"Ah, Maker!" Hawke exclaimed, going to help her blow the flaming marshmallow out, leaving a charred black blob. Dismay overtook him and he clutched at his heart, voice full of mourning. "Blessed be, this poor marshmallow!" he needed a moment of silence but before he could blink Lyra tentatively brought the overcooked marshmallow to her lips and took a bite.

Her face lit up and her blue greens looked at him so happily, her smile utterly beautiful. "This is good!"

Hawke breathed in sharply, distressed and appalled. "Heavens forbid!"

He snatched the rod from her, pointing to his finished browned marshmallow exasperatedly. "This is a good marshmallow, not that charred tragedy! If my father could see me now he'd roll about in his grave!"

Lyra burst out laughing as Hawke fumbled with the marshmallows, trying to get Lyra to eat his and on the verge of tears from how she ate the rest of the blackened one without hesitation.

"It's still good, silly! Here!" Lyra quickly grabbed and burned another marshmallow, twinkling eyes looking at him over her shoulder and laughing in mirth from his reactions. Hawke yelped, reaching out and wrapping an arm around her waist from behind to pull her and the marshmallow she was offending away from the fire. She laughed brightly, playing against his funny defense of the marshmallows.

"The horror!" Hawke cried, his arm tight around her stomach, gripping her waist and pulling her lightly so the backs of her shoulders fell against his chest. He moaned in lament and buried his face into her hair as she laughed and struggled. "The sacrilege, the anguish!" his voice was muffled from her hair, and she squirmed from the tickling.

"Aedan!" Lyra laughed and tried to wriggle free, her hand clutching onto his arm wrapped around her stomach, but without any sense of urgency to remove it. She giggled and rested back into his embrace after a moment, and Hawke was buried in the scent of her hair again, so close to his nose; pinewood, herbs, flowers, wine. Comfort. Kindness. Safety. Beauty.

"Maker," he whispered, warmth trickling through him, arms tightening to hold her a little closer. To feel her, in my arms like this…

"Forgive me, Aedan," Lyra laughed breathily, voice a low whisper, her pulse quick where he could feel it. Hawke turned his face a degree, nuzzling her hair at the crook of her neck. She rested her weight back into him further, her head lolling back to rest upon Hawke's broad shoulder...hair unveiling her jawline, baring her collarbone...

His drunken mind barely registered what he was doing, and it was a battle for his mind to think anything other than, Lanyra, I'm losing myself…

His nose brushed her neck, and he registered her shiver everywhere he touched her, heard her slight intake of breath, felt her soft fingers caress his forearm...

Shit. Hawke grasped at the strings of control, freezing as a memory forced itself into his mind.

"You will not do any funny business to that sweet girl while you're both drinking this good wine, yeah?"

The image of Olivia's raised eyebrow seared itself into Hawke's mind and he blinked his eyes open, his grip lessening on her waist and his face retracting from her.

"I, forgive me Lanyra," he swallowed and released his hold around her, reigning in his thoughts as quickly as he could, the fact she wasn't hurrying to sit up from how she rested against his chest causing his will to shudder. "I'm so drunk," he whispered with a desperate chuckle, ignoring the tight want in his chest. Pull yourself together.

Lyra chuckled as well as she straightened up and blinked her brights at him over her shoulder, her smile light and her hand coming up to run through her hair. "I'm drunk, too," she chuckled again, unworried and giving him such a smile he felt his ribs melt into jelly. "I'm sorry I ruined your marshmallows."

"Oh," he let out a hard laugh, shaking his head at her quickly and smiling. "No, it's alright, I haven't given up on you yet."

"I'm glad," she closed her eyes and smiled, before bringing a hand up to cover her yawn. "Gods I'm tired. Home-cooked meal is a sedative."

"I'll say," he agreed, glancing up to his couch. We've fallen asleep there before. Together.

He shook images of her head resting on his shoulder away when she spoke up, voice low.

"I'll try not to fall asleep on you again," she was looking at the couch too, and Hawke blinked at her, speaking without thinking.

"I just as much fell asleep on you last time. I don't mind, in the slightest."

Her eyes found his, the colors shimmering in the flickering firelight. He blinked from fear, but she only looked at him with understanding.

"I'm quite comfortable around you, Aedan." she gave him the smallest smile, her words honest, her meaning pure. "It's no surprise to me, I find sleep around you easily."

A weight seemed to fall off his shoulders, his breathing coming easier. Hawke faced her and nodded, relief coloring his words. "I feel the same. I hadn't thought I could feel so well rested, by sleeping next to you."

The fright he felt from his vulnerability held his lungs suspended. But as he looked into her eyes he met only softness and encouragement.

"It is a common practice, among the Dalish," she began, voice light and colored with sleepiness. "Often, back with my clan, I would share a tent with my hunting partner Tamlen when we were traveling through shemlen lands. All we did was sleep next to each other, but we slept well, knowing we had the other's back."

Hawke nodded, understanding. The Dalish would share platonic sleeping arrangements for safety. "It makes sense, when you are out travelling, or in danger." Hawke looked at the fire. "I still felt safer, even in my own home, though."

"I did too."

He glanced and met her eyes, and he felt himself relax and the tension leave his shoulders. She seemed to be thinking about something, and then she chuckled to herself, but averted her eyes.

"Would it be strange, to ask you, to fall asleep on the couch again?" she frowned at herself. "I just, don't know how well I'll be able to sleep tonight by myself, but, I know you, have your own bed, and I can just grab the couch if…" she looked away in embarrassment but Hawke breathed in relief.

He felt his heart leap, thankful she was thinking of the same thing, and recognizing her asking to not be alone. I've distracted her from this hard anniversary so far; I wouldn't want to be alone either.

"It would not be strange, to fall asleep on the couch again," he started, and she met his eyes, hopeful. He breathed in. "Would it be strange to reason, if we are going to sleep somewhere, why sleep on the couch?"

She met his eyes with her widened ones, but she hid her surprise pretty well. "No, it would only be logical to sleep somewhere more comfortable."

His heart beat faster, but he kept his face passive. "Only logical."

They looked at each other for a few moments, both repeating to their drunken selves that they really had just in fact, came to the conclusion that they would share his bed tonight. He watched a slight blush color her cheeks, and she wrung her hands and spoke without meeting his eyes.

"I do not, however, wish to make you uncomfortable. I am aware that most people don't, well, that the Dalish are the only ones who share sleeping spots."

"Not at all," he said quickly. "I was worried about making you feel uncomfortable."

She met his eyes without hesitation. "I don't believe that's possible."

He blinked at her, fully aware of how beautiful she looked in the firelight, and too drunk and too tired to tell himself otherwise. "I believe the same."

A smile broke on her face, and he swallowed before bracing himself to stand. "Shall we, my Lady?" he stood from the floor, only a little wobbly, but steady enough to reach down and offer her a hand. She took it and stood up as well, the two of them holding on to each other to keep steady.

"We shall," she chuckled lightly as they took a few steps at a time, traversing his main room to the doorway leading to the master bedroom. The master room was grand, with tall windows and a four-post King-sized bed, and Hawke fussed to get them out of the dark.

"One moment," he murmured as they walked into his room, striding over to the candles he kept on his bedside.

"Let me," Lyra offered, snapping her fingers and lighting the candles instantly, to which Hawke raised his brows at her.

"Drunken fire magic; watch the beard," he teased, earning him a light smirk.

"Maybe you could use the hair cut," Lyra winked at him, and he blanched jokingly.

"How can I sleep now, knowing my hair's a disaster?"

Lyra laughed happily as Hawke went to his side of the bed. He pulled the thick blanket and sheets back, glancing up to see Lyra tentatively do the same on the other side.

"I've never slept in a bed this big before," she said reverently as they each slipped into their sides. Hawke smiled to himself, already feeling the soft linen pull him to sleep.

"It's almost too big," he said without thinking, and blinked before looking up quickly to see her raised eyebrow over her shoulder as she sat on the other side of the bed. He continued hurriedly. "Ah, I mean, this house in general is huge, gets quite lonely; quiet," he cleared his throat not too smoothly, drunken mind stumbling.

"I would get lonely, too," Lyra said thoughtfully as they each settled, the flickering candlelight inviting more sleepiness.

Hawke shimmied into the sheets, glancing over to her do the same, and falling into a stare when she started to unbraid her long hair; the red strands falling in waves over her shoulders and rustling as she ran her fingers through. Hawke blinked to himself and settled lying down as she did the same, the two a few feet apart.

Lyra turned to lie on her side, facing him. "What do you have on your plate for tomorrow?"

He turned on his side as well, facing her, and he thought. "I have a meeting with some mercenaries to gain information about a potential slave trade hideout in the mountains, around midday. After that, I need to beat Varric in cards. It's dangerous when his ego goes unchecked for this long."

"Definitely. He is due for a good beating."

"You have plans tomorrow?" Hawke asked quietly with a smile.

"I have a meeting with the Viscount. I made an entire presentation on exactly why and how they should provide me funding for my plans for improving the quality of living in the alienage, and in turn, the rest of Kirkwall. It surprises me they don't have an engineer or something on staff for structural improvements of the city."

"Ever thought of giving up the life of crime to become an engineer?"

"Often. There's not enough flare, though, working behind a desk. I'd also look pretty strange among the bare-faced humans. I think I've had my fill, getting involved in a human government."

He looked at her seriously for her reaction, but she only smiled at him with soft eyes. He nodded, understanding her, and appreciating how easy it was for her to dissolve any tension.

"That dinner tonight, was heavenly. I tasted spices I had never tried before."

"Fresh, from the mountains, smoked for the unique flavor." A thought seemed to form, and he saw it flit across her smile. "I can write down the recipes."

He looked at her, and smiled. That's what she said to me, that night those many months ago, the first time she slept over. "I'd rather you just come over more."

Her smile grew and she closed her eyes, and nodded, seeming to snuggle slightly into the blankets. He watched her breathe steadily, and the soft sound of her breath helped him unwind further. "Could I cook for you in return, tomorrow night?"

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Absolutely." A corner of her smile lifted. "After you put Varric back in his place?"

"After that, yes."

She nodded, and turned back onto her back. She closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply, and he watched her sink into the mattress comfortably. "I usually don't dream, ever since my time in the Fade in the Ferelden Circle." she continued to breathe steadily, and just the sight of her helped him relax. "But I've been dreaming more, recently."

He watched her. "What do you dream of?"

"I dreamt of my forest, back home. I dreamt of the large bonfire we would build in the dead of winter, when the snow was thick and our seasonal celebrations were approaching. My whole clan would gather around, and share the heat. It was my favorite time of the year."

He turned on his back as well, and closed his eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like, to live in a community like that.

"Will you tell me more about it?" He asked her, his eyes closed. He could hear her smile in her response, as she proceeded to describe how tall the fire reached, how the stars looked in the night sky, and how many people would gather around, sharing warmth, and sharing stories. She told him about the smell of the fresh pines mixing with smoke and cooking spices. She painted a beautiful picture as her voice drifted into sleepiness, and the last thing he remembered hearing was about the group prayers they sang, how voices high and low, young and old, joined together as one to give thanks.

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"And another thing! I'll remind you that none of us would even be here if it wasn't for this Grey Warden's leadership and tact, so she has more authority and expertise to speak on this than you, Arl, or you, my Lady," Alistair yelled behind them as he held the ornate metal door open with one hand, the other hand on Lyra's lower back. They were exiting one of the grand war rooms in the Ferelden capitol building, the King angry and flustered and his elven mistress 8 months pregnant.

"Alistair, it's alright," Lyra tried to hush him, trying to wipe away all evidence of the tears on her cheeks, one hand coming to hold her stomach and the other grasping the arm Alistair was offering her for support. She looked up at the red face of her fellow Grey Warden and King, her mind a violent battle; one side wanting to go back in there and tell the nobles a piece of her mind, the other just wanting to sit down she was so tired. "I need to rest anyways, my head…"

Lyra swayed slightly as a familiar wave of pain gripped her forehead and weakened her knees, and she clutched onto the stable arm of her armored King for support. He stopped and looked down at her worriedly before looking up to glance around for the closest guest room. "Of course. Here," he lead her into a room a few elven maids were cleaning, the young women curtsying and leaving them immediately.

Alistair lead Lyra to the side of the bed and helped her sit down on the half-made sheets, the rest a relief for the very pregnant elf. "Thank you," Lyra whispered as her eyes closed, riding the wave of pain that rippled through her body and blossomed in her head. She let out a hard breath, trying desperately to compose herself from the emotional duress from the meeting and the extreme discomfort her body was feeling.

"Can you believe the nerve of that man?!" Alistair swore angrily as he rubbed her back comfortingly, shaking his head. "Every week the disrespect they have for you grows. How dare he suggest that you belong anywhere other than the very lands you liberated, how dare he call you a…" he faltered, turning his attention to tending to Lyra breathing deeply through her painful contraction.

"Alistair you must go back in there," Lyra said between breaths, hiding the amount of pain she was in and looking up to meet the eyes of her friend. "They cannot go unattended for long; I don't trust what might be said if you aren't there."

"They-!" he stopped himself from yelling by standing from the bed and going to poke his head out the doorway of the guest room, calling for a servant. He received a goblet of water from a maid who left with instructions to draw Lyra a warm bath. The King stayed standing, and began pacing around the room, the sharp blue-green eyes following him from where she sat on the bed, hiding how much she was struggling. This pain is so great, I feel my vision wavering...

"What they're saying, Alistair, is horrible, but…" she breathed in deeply, his soft brown eyes glancing up to meet hers with brows drawn. "But it's common practice in other countries. And other countries, have less to cover up."

Alistair scoffed, shaking his head. "No, Ferelden is not weaker because…" he stopped pacing and faced her, his eyes looking between hers with a lost look and his voice lowering. "Our child would only be considered a bastard because I married Anora. And I only did that because of the same reasons, to appease the public, to strengthen the throne…"

"The nobles, are vile," Lyra began, trying to reason with him, and knowing this subject was so personal to him. "But they represent the opinion of the people, and they are right; if we have a son, and I lay claim to him… he would not only be a bastard, Alistair, he would be a half elven bastard. To officiate that would strip him of the right to ever become King, the right to even further your line, the right to nobility, the right to own property in some areas, the right to-"

"I know, I know," Alistair retorted, fists clenching. "And a bastard to a King who's also a bastard looks even weaker, I know. But they can't ask you to give up your child, that's, that's…" he shook his head and looked at her exasperatedly. "Lyra you can't be thinking any of this is a good idea. I don't care what the people think; not all the humans of Ferelden hold the same prejudice against elves, I'm not ashamed of our child."

"I know that lethallin, and neither am I," Lyra said gently, her own brows together in pain, her confusion and her fear swirling within her as she rubbed her belly protectively. "I just want what's best for them, I just don't-" she gripped the sheets on either side of her, frustration and anguish building so much her tears returned. "I just don't want, our child, to have to face this court, its nobles and its people like I have had to face them… Alistair it would be easier, better for you, better for our child, better for everyone if I just…" Lyra's tears fell freely, her arms hugging her belly shakily, the fear for her unborn child gripping her unlike any fear she'd felt before.

"No," Alistair came to her, gentle hands caressing her face, thumbs wiping away her tears. "No." He bent and kissed her forehead, shaking his head in denial. "I will not tolerate that, from anyone." he raised his head and looked over his shoulder as the maid returned, a bath towel in hand and another couple servants behind her ready to assist. Alistair held out a hand and Lyra took it, and he helped her to her feet, leading her slowly to the midwife who helped soothe her contractions. "Give her a warm bath, and any food she desires. Make sure she stays well hydrated," Alistair handed Lyra off to the servants after squeezing her hand and meeting her eyes. "I will finish up this meeting, and I'll see you later," he gave her a small smile before leaving, but the smile didn't reach his eyes; his gaze held too much worry.

Lyra let herself be tended to, thanking the servants and composing herself gracefully, while inside her thoughts roiled in a black storm of anxiety and pain. I don't belong here… my child, my King, this country, is better off without…

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Lyra jolted awake, gasping loudly and choking on a sob, the darkness around her telling her it was a dream but the sheets she was tangled in unfamiliar, far too soft to be hers, where am I-?!

"Hey, Lanyra, you're safe," the familiar deep voice washed over her like cool water, her eyes finding his soft blues quickly and her hands instinctively reaching for him. I'm, that's right, Aedan, we're sharing a sleeping spot, he's here, I'm safe, he's here…

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and her chest felt like she had ropes tightly bound around her, but she found stability in clutching the front of his shirt as she gathered her breath and waited for her heart to stop hammering. "I, I'm sorry, I…"

"It's okay," Hawke shushed her with a soothing voice, gently lighting a hand on her shoulder and meeting her eyes with his understanding ones. "Hey, I'm here."

Lyra let out another hard breath, nodding and collapsing slightly, using his arm as support and unclenching her fingers from his shirt. "Thank you, Aedan, thank you…"

"Nightmare?" he asked her in a low whisper, and she found his eyes again after finishing wiping hers so she could see him more clearly. His hair was the usual mess and his tunic was a bit lopsided, but his eyes looked between hers attentively, his thumb rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. The sight of him, his frame strong and sturdy and his eyes soft settled her nerves and grounded her racing heart. She nodded again and took a deep breath, giving him a small smile.

"Yes, it was…" she let out a breath and shook her head. "It was painfully real. Ever since, my time in the Fade those years ago, the few dreams I have now are shockingly accurate memories. To have to relive that moment exactly as it…" she let out a shaky sigh and raised a trembling hand to touch his arm, needing to feel that pillar of sturdiness. Hawke's arms came around her, and in a second she was engulfed in one of his incredible hugs, the sense of security she felt within his arms making her burrow further into the embrace he offered.

"Let's breathe, together?" he asked quietly while he held her, and she nodded, taking in a deep breath while he did the same, their chests expanding together and pressing against each other while her face found safety in the crook of his neck. They took a few deep breaths together, each one calming her heart that was beating so frantically against him, each one releasing the tension in her shoulders and letting gravity pull her to rest.

"Thank you, lethallin," Lyra whispered as they rested in the other's arms, her voice back to normal and her heart only beating slightly faster than normal from the intimacy. I never want to leave his arms, she thought with a start, taking in his scent, feeling him stroke her hair softly.

"Lethallin?" he asked in a whisper, and Lyra nodded, her nose rubbing against his collarbone. She retracted a little to be able to look up and meet his blinking gaze.

"A trusted friend. A dear one." she gave him a small smile, and felt warm tingles from how his face lit up. She swallowed slightly, looking between his eyes, and saying quickly, "If you, wanted to call me such as well, a dear one who is female is 'lethallan'."

"Lethallan," he tried, feeling the word on his tongue, and nodding to himself, smiling into her eyes. "Lethallan."

Her heart shuddered when he said that to her, bright blues looking right into her eyes, his arms still holding her back and his voice still husky from being awakened. Lyra swallowed again, averting her eyes and apologizing in a soft voice.

"Forgive me, I woke you from your rest, I am alright now, thank you," she squeezed his arm where she held him, giving him a smile before he shook his head at her.

"No, there is nothing to forgive," he lightly squeezed her waist when he removed his arms, shifting back a few inches to give them each a little space. "Just as there's no need to thank me."

"Well," Lyra gave him a meaningful smile as they each shifted back to their perspective sides of the bed, "I am thankful, nonetheless."

They each settled back into the sheets, feeling the remaining night pull them back to sleep, both feeling a little lighter, both feeling warm.

Thank you for reading, if you have any time I'd really appreciate a review if you can think of any suggestions, questions, or tips, I want to improve!

Either way have a wonderful day and take care :)