"What's wrong with the pretty lady?" Sandal was sitting up in his bedroll, looking out across the camp.
"Everything's fine now, son. Go ahead and go back to sleep," Bodahn reached over and pat the boy on the shoulder, "come on now."
Sandal looked out a little longer, seeing the embrace between the two and believing his father was right. He turned over onto his other side and returned to sleep.
Wynne, Morrigan and Leliana had heard most of the argument. They'd of course stayed silent.
Wynne could sense Morrigan's discomfort at the over-heard fight, as it stemmed from her arrival. Wynne did agree that Morrigan's temperament was most unpleasant, but also felt the same as Emma in the belief of turning no one in need away in a time such as they were in now. In any time, actually.
Morrigan felt remorse at her past actions. She felt it because Emma had shown her nothing other than a willingness to understand her points of view. At times, Emma did understand and agree. She was sensible, Morrigan complimented silently to herself.
Leliana curled up tighter, feeling horrible for Alistair about some of the thing's Emma had said to him. But she did not feel it her place to judge, as these were thing's he did. She tried to roll over and go to sleep. She would not trouble herself with things that were not her business. Especially when the end result was a lovely confession of both of their feeling's for one another. Her earlier remorse began to fade as she also did, sleep slowly re-taking her.
"Emma?" Alistair asked as he parted from her lips.
"Hmm?"
"Will you please go try to get some sleep?" he urged.
"Ali-" she began but didn't get to finish.
"Just lay down. You don't have to sleep," he pleaded. "You need to rest."
Emma looked and saw his concern for her sharply in his eyes. She conceded. "Alright. Will you come get me when you are off to sleep?" she asked, slightly demanding more than asking.
"I will," he nodded. "Now go," he pushed her away.
She laughed. "Alright, alright!" she turned to go to her tent.
He watched her walk away and sighed. He watched the waist of her armor sway with her hips. She was the definition of beauty, Alistair told himself. Child-bearing hips, he once heard a man sass her with in a tavern. Her glare had shut the man up pretty quick, he recalled with a chuckle. But he didn't disagree...
He thought about how young she was. She had just turned 19 years old a little after he had met her. But she was an old soul. He felt her wise beyond her mere 19 years of walking the planet. He wasn't much older at 20 years old.
He suddenly remembered when he'd asked her about her family. She had told him they were slaughtered by Arl Howe and his men. Arl Howe had been friends with her father, Teryn Bryce Cousland, for many years. They fought together under King Maric, Alistair's father, and helped defeat the Orlesian occupation in Ferelden. Her brother, Fergus, had been out scouting the Korcari Wild's the day before the Battle at Ostagar. Much to Emma's disapproval, Morrigan had convinced Emma to presumed Fergus dead, having heard nothing of him by the time they had reached Lothering. His family had been murdered along with their parent's. He had a wife and son.
She was the last of the Cousland line.
Duncan had been at her home in Highever, talking with her father about recruits for the Grey Warden's and the teryn's move to send men to fight for King Cailin against the darkspawn. Duncan was from Highever, Alistair recalled.
The death of Duncan washed over him. Duncan was the first person to really show they cared for his interests. He saved Alistair from taking his vows and being forever a templar to the Chantry. His heart filled with sorrow at his loss, and at Emma's.
We will end this Blight. Nothing will get in our way, Alistair forcefully told himself. He looked to Emma's tent. He would give his all for her to know peace again.
He returned again to the thought of Emma and her family. He tried to imagine her back then. He imagined she was difficult to control. In many noble families, the daughters were taught to be respectful and lady-like. Emma was indeed respectful, but lady-like were not words he would think of immediately when trying to describe her.
He wondered if she was to be married off, like most daughters of nobles. Was she betrothed before all this had happened? Had she been with a man before?
He realized that in all the love for her in his heart, he knew little of her.
That's not true, he told himself.
He knew she loved lamb and mashed potatoes. And the color of the sea. She loved to wrestle with Edgar, her mabari. He was lost to her, when she lost her family. She didn't know what became of him. She talked of him fondly. He was imprinted on her when she was 11. She'd begun learning to fight when she was a little girl, her father teaching her. Emma had told him her mother wished she was more of a lady, but never loved her less for it.
She loved her family. He knew that. He knew she missed them dearly.
He also knew, as stupid as they were at times, that his jokes made her smile, and laugh. He knew she could drink him under the table. He knew the curve of her body, and the birthmark on her upper thigh...
Alistair closed his eyes to picture her again at the edge of the lake.
Her skin was firm and fair. She stood at the edge of the lake, muscles tensed as she pulled her shirt up and over her head, reaching to the sky as the muscles in her legs and back flexed in her stretch. He felt guilt and immense excitement at the sight of her. He'd never really seen a woman naked before, and thanked the Maker the first one he was to lay eyes on was the epitome of what any man would want.
His skin flushed with warmth at the thought. He opened his eyes and blinked the image away. "Ohh Maker... make me strong..." he asked the air around him.
He'd thought about it before. Having sex. Fairly often. He knew it was rare as a charge of the Chantry, to indulge in such selfish activities. He'd grown up in the Chantry, knowing nothing else but to be a gentleman. He would be nothing else, he thought... but having a beautiful woman like Emma that loved him almost drove him mad with need.
He wanted to share that moment with her. He wanted her to be his first. His last, even. A smile crept across his face as he felt the happiness she brought him inside.
When this was all over, when they could call somewhere home again, maybe she would be with him...
His mind began to go down the road of Emma and him together. He began to imagine a large room, of royal caliber, and a large luxurious bed. A canopy of royal blue and purple hanging all around the top of the bed posts. He imagined her lying amongst the many thick blankets and sheets that covered the king-sized mattress. From a window in the room he imagined the warmth of the sun glistening on her skin. His mind wandered to her gleaming red hair falling around her face and shoulders, to her curves, to her hands caressing his arms, chest, back...
He shuddered as he stood out in the cool night air, thinking private, naughty thoughts.
"Alright. I am finished. Do you need help to your tent?" Wynne asked Morrigan as she wrapped her wound.
Morrigan shook her head. "No. I will be able to get there," she got up and looked down at Wynne. She looked away. "Thank you."
Wynne nodded. "You are welcome."
Morrigan opened the flap to Wynne's tent and saw Emma had set hers up next to her own. She glanced over to see Alistair pacing by the clearing entrance. She turned away quickly and disappeared into her tent.
Emma laid on her bedroll, looking to the ceiling of her tent. She watched as the breeze moved the canvas, rippling it. She sighed. Her body was grateful to be at ease, but her mind was racing with thoughts.
She was afraid of how much she cared for Alistair. He was all she could focus on.
She turned onto her side to face the front of her tent. She closed her eyes an imagined she could see him standing out there, pacing in the cold night air. He was always picking at the callouses on his hands when he was bored. Emma remembered the feel of his hand on her cheek. Her mind then wandered back to when he held her in his arms as they kissed so passionately...
It tore her apart to feel her need of him burning inside of her. His muscles against her body, pressing into her and taking her over...
She sat up and clenched her eyes shut as she covered her face.
You have to stop this, she said to herself mentally. You need to control your urges.
She sighed and sat up straight. She opened her eyes and watched the firelight flickering on her tent. Emma blinked and felt the lack of sleep ebbing at her eyelids. But she couldn't sleep. She couldn't even lay still, what with all the thoughts of Alistair racing through her mind and body.
She gave up.
She gathered her warm clothes and pulled them on, deciding she didn't want to waste time not being with him, even if it was just to be in close proximity of him. And she wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.
Alistair was lost in his thoughts of her as he turned to see her emerge from her tent. He paused his pacing and cleared his throat.
Emma smiled at him as she looked to see him mid-pace. She felt happy to know she knew he would be pacing with boredom. "Hi," she greeted him as she neared him.
"What are you doing? It's been, not even half of an hour...?" he asked. He didn't want to sound like he wasn't excited to see her, but he worried.
She wanted to be honest with him about how she couldn't stop thinking about him ravaging her over and over again. But she knew he'd never had such an experience before. Neither had she, she frowned to herself. It worried her in the sense of not knowing what to do. Not knowing how to go about having sex with a man... with Alistair. Her skin shivered with excitement at the thought, nonetheless.
She looked into his eyes and sighed.
He looked back at her, curious to her sigh. "What?"
"I..." Emma began, but stopped. She pulled her fur mantle around her tighter and bit her bottom lip in thought. What should she say? She wanted to be with him now, to talk with him. But what about?
You could tell him you want to rip all of his armor off and have your way with him. He would like that I am sure, Emma thought sarcastically to herself.
She looked to him again. His eyes were so blue...
"I can't stop thinking about you," she spoke before she realized her mouth was moving. But she didn't regret her words. She looked up at him and smiled at his smile.
"Me either," he replied with a relieved sigh. "I've..." he looked at how fragile she looked to him right then. Her face was so soft and vibrant. Her golden eyes captivated him. He began to feel the immense love he felt for her and it made him want to fall to pieces. "Every time I'm around you I feel like my head is going to explode," he gestured with his hands what his head exploding might look like, "I can't think straight..."
Emma had to laugh a little at how happy that made her, and how funny he was.
"But..." he sighed and looked to her happily. "I can't imagine being without you. Ever," he stated boldly.
Emma felt her heart flutter. "Alistair... I..." she looked for words worthy enough to speak after such a declaration. "I am afraid of how much I need you. But I have never felt anything this wonderful in my entire life. Just, knowing you has made everything in this world worth so much more to fight for."
Alistair ran a hand through his hair as he flushed bright red. "I think we are going to eternally make the other feel completely embarrassed and/or utterly flattered with everything we say..." he looked to her bashfully.
Emma nodded shyly.
His gaze turned more serious as he spoke. "What are we going to do, with this?" he motioned himself and her. "What... how does this work?"
Emma felt a sadness fill her soul at his question. But it was something she longed to discuss with him since earlier that day. "I honestly don't know," she looked to him with solemn, amber eyes. Her duty to Ferelden and all those that lived within it reflected in her eyes, in her thoughts.
"We're all this country has to defend itself against the Blight... I don't even know if that will be enough," she admitted. "But..." she looked away from him for a moment, thinking and feeling all that she felt for him. She looked back up at him. "Do you think it selfish of me... to feel how I do?"
He blinked. He was a little surprised at her question. "Do I think you selfish for having feelings for me?"
"Well... for having feelings... yes, for having feelings for you," she agreed.
He understood what she meant. She was worried that her having these feelings in a time like this was wrong. He thought about if it wasn't him she felt for and she was asking him his opinion. What would he say?
"I..." he looked at her before him. She was a Grey Warden. She never faltered in her duty as one. She always looked out for others, and went out of her way to solve any problem she could for anyone who needed her help. She put the need of others before her own. That was the creed of the Grey Warden's. But she deserved happiness. She deserved to feel love, to have someone love her back.
"Absolutely not," he answered. "You deserve so much more than... well, me," he chuckled at his own expense.
She tilted her head as she reached a hand out to touch the armor of his breastplate. "Alistair..."
"You do," he reiterated. He took her hand in his and held it.
Emma stepped forward, feeling happy to know he didn't think less of her. She squeezed his hand and smiled. "I have no doubts whatsoever that you are horribly wrong."
"Oh really?" he asked coyly.
"Terribly, terribly incorrect," she nodded.
"Hmm. Alright then," he placed a hand on her cheek as he leaned down and kissed her.
Emma wrapped her arm around his torso and pulled him to her as she kissed him back.