A/N: Yaaayyy, I almost feel bad for him. But not really. It's his fault, he'll have to stick to his own hands for now I guess. –pouty face-
It had been one week now, one week since he'd had a drink, one week since he'd been wallowing in self-pity, one week since he'd been content just being absorbed in anger. One week since the bloody elf showed up at his door. They were still riding; the tension in the air had lazed for the both of them. Zevran filled the silence with his chatter, talking about Antiva, the Wardens, Leliana, Wynne and Shale even.
"So, have you looked at the book yet?"
The question made Alistair rise his head up from it's near lolling state, "Hrm? Oh, I looked at it. It looks like paper work—"
The elf looked a bit pleased. "It is all the information she had collected since becoming the Arlessa." They fell into an easy silence, the offhand comment being thrown into the wind.
A familiar feeling roused in Alistair as he noticed cliffs, a busy looking and sounding castle not far off. "Is that Highever?"
"Indeed, we shall stay there tonight. A bath is in order." Zevran seemed pleased with himself. It was something she would have thought of. And so, the duo headed up towards the castle precariously placed on the cliffs overlooking ocean. The flashback of the last time he'd been here physically hurt his chest. But they headed up anyways, to be greeted by a set of guards, demanding their named.
Zevran allowed his hood to fall back, his lustrous blond hair catching as much attention as the swirling tattoo on his dark cheek. "Zevran Arainai, friend of Lady Cousland." His voice was still obviously allowing suspicion, but the guards opened the gate.
It was nothing like he remembered; first of all, ice didn't layer the ground. The courtyard was a green expanse around the main hall, where they were being led, removing themselves from their steeds. The hall itself was alight with dancing flames, tapestries drawn down the sides of the walls between statues of armor. There were two large throne like seats at the end of the hall, where a man sat, his hair was dark, almost black. A thin layer of stubble layered his strong jaw and chin, looking both Zevran and Alistair up and down a few times.
"Greetings, Teryn Cousland," Zevran drawled, giving the man a lopsided grin.
They seemed to be friends or something, because the man got to his feet and clapped his hands together, his voice was booming and resounded in the room. The same tone Emily had had. A twinge of pain his Alistair. "Ah! Dear friend of the Couslands, what brings you here? Is there news of my sister's illness?" Alistair had tried to stay out of sight, with his hood drawn, "who is this you bring with you?"
"Ah, of course, how rude. This is Warden Alistair, the man who is to take your sister's spot until she gets better." The word choice was picked carefully.
Oddly enough, Alistair found himself liking the man. "Ah, the Therin one, right? Good to meet you, I am Fergus Cousland." A grin formed on his lips, one so much like the one Emily possessed. "I hope you've heard as much of me as I have you."
"Yes, My Lord, she spoke of you often." Alistair found his skin crawling at speaking about her like he was, how long had it been since he'd seen her? Let alone spoken to her.
The Teryn must have noticed his discomfort, because with another clap of his hands, he was apologising, "You must've been on horseback for days. Allow my servants to show you to some rooms, and have hot baths drawn." The elven servants seemed to appear out of no where.
As the pair were lead deeper into Highever, he noticed how many elves were actually under Cousland control. And he also noticed how fed they looked, how happy they seemed; for servants.
"Here you are, Ser Arainai, your usual quarters." The first elf spoke, she was a young girl with nothing special about her. Though, Zevran was all over that. Alistair managed to hide the rolling of his eyes as he himself was led away.
"Your room, Ser."
"Thank you," his polite nature hadn't left. Though, as soon as he deemed suitable, Alistair closed the door, latching it closed and heading towards the bath that had been drawn. The steam touched his face like a gentle caress, and he found himself relaxing visibly.
It took no time at all for Alistair to be nude and in the water, a gentle sigh leaving his lips as he sunk into the water. His eyes drifted closed as more memories bombarded his mind.
The pyre's lit the night sky as the group stood outside the courtyard in a slightly awkward silence. One by one, they disappeared into the stone walls of the castle. Each had decided a bed would be nice for once, even if they had once belonged to their leader's dead family. Some things were needed. She agreed.
Finally, it was only them. Alistair touched her arm softly, feeling her tighten from under her armor. For the first time since the fires began, she looked at him. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, her lip trembling under the pressure of holding them back.
A moment later his arms were open, and she was in them. Broken sob after gasp for air raked her body as he held her. It took nearly an hour for her to calm, the fires were finally out, smoke filled the sky, now black with night. The moon only a sliver of light. "Come Emily, let us warm ourselves by the hearth." Alistair tried to coax her.
"N-no… tonight I want to be alone. Well…" In the first time in what felt like an eternity, she smiled at him. Her beauty was exquisite, even though her face was lined with grime, blood, tears and sweat. "Alone other than you."
His lips were chaste on hers, and she returned the blessing. His fingers sought hers, their cold gauntlets squeezing against each others. The both of them walked passed Sten, Shale and Morrigan, all around the hearth, warming their hands and speaking in hushed voices. Emily was pulling him along gently, leading him towards the well, gathering water into the half destroyed buckets Emily gave him a smile. "I am in need of a bath." She explained, he was rather perplexed. Pushing two full buckets into his arms, Emily herself gathered two and she sauntered off towards her old room.
He watched as she purposefully avoided looking at the room she had explained as hers. There were blood spots on the floor still, obvious on the stone.
Her parent's room had been untouched, and so, that was where she led him. Starting the fire in the hearth, laying the buckets down and peering about. Alistair tried to take in the sight of the room, but his eyes were always drawn to her form. Her small shoulders set in a stubborn line, her armor dented and stained in the right places to accent her natural curves. "Maker, you are beautiful."
His comment was met with a little grin.
In complete silence – her most frequent fall back as of late – she drew her own bath, the steam filling the room.
He was always drawn into wonder watching her undress herself. Her armor would bounce off the stone floor almost carelessly, piece by piece revealing the goddess-like form usually encased in metal. And there it was, the woman he loved, nude in the flickering candle light. Emily turned to him, raising her brow at him. "Why are you still clothed?" The innocent tone in her voice always caught him off-guard.
The blushing, former templar released himself from his confines, standing naked as the day he was born. Alistair watched her eyes flicker over his body, taking him all in, "Mm, a little happy to see me?"
Arousal beat out embarrassment, "I'm just awestruck by your smile. Is it bad that that alone can get me all… excited?"
He tried so hard to get the lusty voice going the way she could, but it didn't seem to work. His voice merely lowered and went husky, but her shudders must have been good, right? "Matters who you are asking."
"I'm asking you."
Her smile reached her eyes, her lips coming to rest on his chest, well… all over his chest. Her hands doing things that made his vision swim. "Then yes." It was all the encouragement he needed.
Alistair was a big man, strong, tough and quite the lover – or so she told him – and he enjoyed using this to his advantage. So, pulling the female Warden into his arms, he nuzzled his face into her neck, stalking over to the bath and slipping into it. A pleased groan left him, from both her hands ministrations and the warm water.
She shifted, spinning to face him, the water came to rest right below her bust. And Alistair's hands covered all else. His face went to her throat, finding the delicate spot between her shoulder and throat, wriggling his tongue into the nerves, causing her body to spasm above him.
"I love you Alistair." Her voice sounded in his ear as she lowered herself on him, her wet warmth surrounding him completely---
Alistair woke from his dreams quickly, a jolt coursing through his body. He was almost embarrassed to find his own hand around himself. But sadness prevailed. His chest was heaving from the tension that had been there. He made sure to scrub that hand extra hard before getting out of the soiled waters.
It wasn't long before Alistair fell into a slumber once more. His dreams filled with sweet memories and haunting monsters.