Author's Notes: This tale was inspired by a wonderful drawing I saw over on dA. It is called Meeting and it was created by Sia-Chan.
As much as I'd like to take credit the concept and inspiration belongs entirely to her.
Also my apologies for any and all mistakes made pertaining to the voices/persona of the characters. I tried to keep it as accurate/canon as possible but I am fallible and may have missed the mark despite my best attempts...
Beta: None as of yet. So my apologies to any and all grammar nazi's out there. This story will make your eyes bleed (not intentionally of course!) but you have been warned.
III
In the brief time Morgan had known Alisa, not once had he seen her look as vulnerable as she did upon learning of Ostagar's demise. There were no tears in her eyes, no words of woe, or platitudes spoken from her lips. There was only silence and the silence spoke volumes. His Father warned him of Alisa's sorrow; it did not stop him from observing her.
Attraction was not forbidden, but Father did not encourage it either. Morgan knew the tales and knew what was expected of him. Women were mere vessels he would say, tools to be used and tossed aside once their purpose had been served. However, Alisa was not like most women. She was more manthan most men. The young warlock once tried to imagine the grey warden as typical woman with the fancy up-do's, and a gown. The absurdity of the image still made him chuckle. Morgan then wondered if that was why his Father chose to save the two female wardens from the horde.
'If you're planning to turn me into a toad, just do it already! If not, would you please stop staring at me?' Alisa's words, though quiet still carried the weight of a challenge.
Under normal circumstances, Morgan would have jumped at the opportunity. A quick reply, a snide remark and the battle of wits would have begun. He knew that any attempts at a good banter would most likely fall through so he decided upon another tactic. 'Your friend is far better now. She is asleep, though shan't say for how long. Father is a fine healer, your friend is in good hands,' he added with a twinge of pride. Alisa nodded in reply and stared in silence to the forest ahead. Having grown tired of the one sided conversation the apostate turned back to his home once more.
'Morgan-'
The mage paused before glancing back in curiosity. It was the first time she had ever spoken his name. The realisation both annoyed and secretly pleased him.
'I guess I should say thank-you,' Alisa said in sheepish tones.
'Tis my Father whom you should thank, for it was he who saved your lives, not I,' he replied. 'Personally I would have left you both to your fates.'
'That's hardly surprising,' she quipped.
'It's just-' Alisa's voice faltered as she kicked at the grass with her leather boot. 'Thank you for helping us with the treaties and you know, for not turning us into toads,' she concluded with a hint of a sad smile.
Morgan's felt his cheeks growing warm; gratitude, the sincere sort, was a rare thing. 'Once more tis my Father's doing, as he discovered the treaties in the first place. However, your gratitude is…appreciated.'
Turning back towards the hut he added, 'I shall check on your friend, perhaps she has already awoken. Father will wish to speak to you both. It is never wise to keep him waiting.'
Morgan departed without another word spoken. He never forgot the way Alisa spoke his name or the strange emotions it evoked.