"Maker's breath!" he gasped, and held his chest. He was covered in cold sweat, the last shadows of his nightmares fading. He was in his tent, in the dark. He tried to breathe found that it was very difficult.
"Commander."
And he grabbed the knife from beside his bedroll, pointed it at the intruder even as he recognized her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Velanna. She was sitting near him, watching. It was hard to make her out in the dark, but he could see the slight trace of worry on her features. She reached out for the knife, and he let her take it.
"I… couldn't sleep?" she tried, and she smiled – that pretty, perfect smile. He shook his head.
"Try again."
"Okay…" she put a finger to her chin, thinking how best to word it. "I wanted to watch you sleep."
He nodded. That was better. Made more sense at least. Though he wasn't exactly sure what was so thrilling about watching him sleep. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand, a motherly gesture. It set him off guard. He had a brief bit of anxiety, worry that something was wrong with her. But then he knew that it was okay, and he took her hand.
"You are warm," she said. "Feverish."
"I'm okay."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He realized then that he was shirtless, and that made him a little uncomfortable. He reached out to grab his clothes, to dress himself proper. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't really interested in an extended conversation with her.
But then her hand was on his chest, soft and good. Her fingers touched his scars; the mauled flesh from Maker only knew how many battles. And his hand reached for her, felt the bare flesh at her neck, the tiny scar he'd left on her in their first meeting.
He remembered her well. They met in the woods. She was so sure and confident, had believed herself to be right about everything.
"You're so much like her," he whispered. His other hand came around, held her loosely. "You're so damn much like her."
Her own hands came up to his shoulders, squeezed him lightly. And he was pulling her closer, feeling her touch him.
"Don't go," he whispered. "Please don't go."
She felt him shiver, heard the quiet gasp of a stifled sob. And she shook her head, reached up to feel the very real tears that marked his every memory. She whispered back to him.
"I am staying here."
And then he kissed her, hands on her back, touching her bare arms. She returned the kiss, hungry. She wanted to tell him how she felt, to let him know that it was serious, that she wanted him. But he was already easing her down to lay on his bedroll, already kissing the scar left by his gauntleted hand.
And she welcomed him.
He was kissing her softly, not like she would expect of the hard man that she knew. She let her hair down, and he ran his fingers through it.
One finger tapped against her cheek and the Dalish tattoo inscribed there long ago. He traced it, around her chin, her forehead, to her lips, where he kissed her again. She could feel his breath come in shallow, fearful gasps.
He was nervous, and awkwardly placed his hand on her side, leaning on his elbow.
He wet his lips, hesitated.
"Are you sure?" he whispered. She nodded, touched his cheek, his chin.
"I want you," she said. And she meant it.
He shook at her touch, twitched nervously when she kissed him. He flinched once or twice, but she was patient. She wondered briefly how this felt for him, if he was still the same cool professional she'd known all this time.
Once more it occurred to her how much she had changed in the months she'd known Lance. She knew that she was nothing like the cold woman she had been. And she was glad. It felt good to stop hating.
She smiled slyly at the thought of telling this story to her clan, of their shocked faces and disbelieving looks. Velanna and a human? Impossible!
But here she was. And here he was.
And she felt him tense at her touch, as she let her fingernails scratch lightly down his back. She feared that he was thinking of Morrigan and not of her, that he was somewhere else, somewhere that he preferred.
And he assuaged her fears with a breathy whisper, a gasp of her name.
"Velanna…"
She kissed him. Thankful. Grateful.
She held him close, held him so that they looked each other in the eye.
He lay next to her afterwards, holding her protectively. He slept for only a few hours, watching her for most of the night. She slept pleasantly, content.
She woke early to find that he was sitting outside the tent, watching the sun rise. He looked as though little had changed. She joined him, wrapped in only a blanket.
She sat beside him, smiling when she thought of last night. She looked up at him, leaned against his arm casually.
"That was a mistake," he said, and she wanted to laugh. He was so busy being a tough guy, playing up the "hero" that he couldn't see something good for what it was.
"You had fun," she said. And he frowned. "If only a little."
"I… We shouldn't have done that."
"Is this one of those 'human things'?" she asked, smiling. He looked at her seriously, brow furrowed.
"I made a mistake," he said. "And I don't want to talk about it."
She nodded, seeing that he was serious about it, that their night together had only wound him up tighter. She clucked her tongue; spoke about it despite his desire not to.
"You know," she said, causing him sit straighter in annoyance. He had that certain rigidity about him, as though nothing were as simple as it seemed, as though a knife could come from anywhere. "It's okay to be happy. To enjoy yourself. I had fun. You were good."
"Stop it," he hissed, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon. She touched his knee.
"Please. Listen to me," she said. "You are a strong man. A good man, when you let yourself be. I care about you. This quest you're on will only end badly. I know you still feel for this woman but-"
He raised a hand to cut her off, looked her in the eye.
"You're stubborn," he said. "She's stubborn. I love her, deeply. And I can't let this" he gestured at her. "happen again. I won't."
"Do you know if she still loves you? Truly?"
"I… don't."
"Then why can't you let yourself be happy?" she asked. And she turned to reenter his tent, gather her clothes. He watched her leave, kicked himself for doing so.
He felt dirty for what he had done. Weak. Weakness was a danger. He couldn't let it show. No matter what.
He loved Morrigan, even if she wasn't here. He was wrong to think about Velanna like that, to touch her. He had to stop it.
So he stood. Gathered up his leathers and prepared for the day. If they got moving soon they could be in Val Royeaux before nightfall.
He stared out at the sea, at Val Royeaux on the north shore.
It glittered in the early morning light, like the jewel it was described as being.
He tucked his dagger into its sheathe.