oOo
"Why did you leave?"
"Because I had to." A heavy sigh. "Think you Ferelden would look kindly on another bastard child who may be a threat to Anora's throne?"
"I renounced my claim, and that of all my descendents."
"She will not let you walk away cleanly. She will seek you, and have you put down."
"Aedan won't let her do that."
"Alistair, the safely of this child is more important than you or I."
"You said you loved me."
"And I do…did." How is it that he makes her sigh so often. "Do."
"Can I meet him?"
"Her."
"Oh. Can I meet her?"
"No."
"Morrigan-"
"What am I to tell her, Alistair? Here, darling, meet your father, who is leaving now, who you will never see again, and who will probably be dead by order of the throne by the time you grow enough to find him on your own? If I'm to keep her from the politics of it all, that is probably not the wisest way to go about things."
"How about, here, darling- really, you call her darling? Huh. Here, darling, meet your father, who would really like the chance to know you and love you as much as he loves your mother."
"But now he has to go away, so sorry to make you think there was a chance at a father figure."
"Or he could stay. You know, stay and help raise you, love you, love your mother, be a family."
"But then of course, once your powers develop, he will run screaming to the nearest Chantry to have you taken to the Tower, or just be put down by Templar swords. Doesn't that sound marvelous?"
"Only if he happened to be stupid enough to not realize you were going to be something special, and he happens to think he's well and truly gotten over being only partly indoctrinated as a Templar, and your mother is just making excuses, because she isn't comfortable with the fact that she fell in love with him, when she was only supposed to seduce him to have you."
"Thinks that, does he?"
"Yep."
"Maybe your mother only ever told the boneheaded Templar that she loved him in order to get him to lay with her for the ritual without a fight, and now she has had enough of the hollow headed, cheese mongering, overprotective simpleton fool, and wants him to go away and leave us in peace."
"Nope, too late. She already said she loves him. He's too used to her insults to take her seriously when she says that."
"Damn."
"Tripped yourself up there, didn't you?"
"I suppose I did at that."
"I'm not asking you to come back."
"What are you asking then?"
"To stay."
"The Wardens need you."
"No, they don't. Aedan does a fine job as Commander. Anora is a good Queen."
"Aedan needs you."
"Hardly. Aedan has never needed me. You're just looking for excuses. I can tell, cause that one was kind of desperate."
"So it was."
"I think you have the idea stuck in your head that because you were raised this way, your daughter must be as well."
"That…could be so."
"It's not as if I'd be useless, you know. I can teach her to resist Templar abilities."
"As can I."
"You can only teach her theory. I can give her practical knowledge."
"This is true."
"I can't bear the thought of having a child, and not being part of her life. You know I never had a real family, and I can't do that to her."
"If I say yes, will you shut up?"
"Probably not."
"Well, I may just have to shut you up the old fashioned way then."
Silence, as her mouth presses against his, words he may have spoken lost in the movement of her lips, her tongue. Their kiss is urgent, an overspill of restrained emotion, repressed longings, long months of responsibility and duty seen to, until finally he could seek her out. The years on the road hunting her.
His touch is fervent against her skin, slipping into her cloak to grasp her hips. Just as warm as she remembers. An edge of desperation in his hold, pulling her closer, tighter, fingers flexing restlessly.
She has never been patient, not since the first time, and he has long since learned to read her signs. A hard nip into his bottom lip, and she licks the blood welling there. Within seconds, she is pinned to the wall, her hands captured in one of his above her head, his eyes burning darkly. Years have passed since he clung to the ideal of romance, and they quickly sink into an animalistic haze, driven by instinct, a divinity all its own. Her snarl goads him onward, touch hard and heavy, mouth hot and sharp. Her struggle in his iron hold is useless, and they both know it. Still she fights, arching herself away from the wall, pushing herself against him.
He has lost nothing of his strength in their time apart. Battle has stripped anything soft from him, there is no time for gentle in a war on darkspawn, no room for it. Theirs has never been an easy love, romantic and sweet. A bond forged in war and blood, frantic battle and miserable nights, innocents damaged and left to die, or outright slaughtered, because it was too hard to tell the difference between friend and foe in an instant, and no one else could be trusted.
In desperate fear, he'd turned to her, silencing her barbs with a gentle kiss, awkward and sweet and his first, and she had been surprised that it was not Liliana he wanted, with her Chantry past and her slick seductions. He had flushed and stammered, and made her feel special in his regard, despite herself. She allowed him gentle and soft once. The first time. His first time, her hands guiding him, quiet murmurs leading him through fumbling hesitations. Her first time, as he learned upon thrusting into her, which is when they both learned that the smell, the taste, the feel of blood between them was not such a bad thing after all.
His smile is wicked, blood from his lip a trickling ribbon down his chin, dripping between her breasts as he makes short work of her clothing, until she is clad only in her cloak, wrists still pinned to the wall above, and then he is in her, and Gods, it hurts, because she isn't ready, arcing into him because that is exactly how she likes it, and he knows it. His blood smears on her pale skin, he pushes into her, her knee hitched over his hip, driving her up onto pointed toes, holding her open for him as she tilts her hips to take him. His mouth finds hers again, and the taste pushes her into a frenzy. He releases her wrists to pull her other leg around him, hands gripping under her, holding her weight as he drives into her. Her shoulders press back to the wall, arms out to clench her nails into his shoulders, wounding again, bleeding.
Every thrust is a claim, on her body, on her heart, on her soul. Each sharp breath is an affirmation of his love, his addiction. Each rumbled growl is a sound of possession, each mark a display of dominance, and she trembles, tight and clenching, as his teeth at her throat drop her over the edge, shattering her, reminding her that she belongs to him, as much as he to her.
Still he manages tender, fingers tucking her now untidy midnight hair behind her ear.
"So."
"So?"
"Can I meet her?"
"Alistair…"
"Face it, Morrigan. I won't stop coming. I won't stop chasing. I will keep catching you, until you say yes."
"It will only hurt you to meet her, when we leave again."
"Then don't. Or take me with you."
Her fingers on his lip, a glancing touch as a healing glow sinks into him, erasing the wounds inflicted.
"Fine."
"Wow. That easy, huh?"
"Easy?"
"Well, this is the first time I've gotten to the part were I beg you to keep me around. I thought we'd go around another time or two."
"Perhaps five years is long enough."
"It has been a long road."
"Apparently the eleventh time is the charm."
"You do realize, every time I found you, you gave me even more reason to keep chasing?"
"This just now occurred to you?"
"Um…maybe?"
"I hope that is more upbringing than breeding."
"Ha ha."
"Come, Alistair. Meet your daughter."
His smile is blinding, his palm cups her face.
"After you put your clothing to rights."
"I think that's why you agreed to let me stay. Cause you can't resist my masculine charms."
"That did not hurt your chances, certainly."
"I love you, Morrigan."
"I know, Alistair. And I you, may the Gods forgive me."
