Thanks mutive!

-o-

A soul-crushing torment greeted Anora when she awoke in the morning. As she opened her eyes, sunlight soaked in, and the space behind her eyes caught fire. She opened her mouth to complain, but her tongue was bone dry, and she licked her lips and swallowed before she could make a sound.

"Andraste's magic hangover," Anora groaned, rubbing her temples.

A shape emerged from the shadows, walking up to the side of the bed. She assumed it was Alistair. "I tried to warn you," he said. His voice was soft, but rang like thunder in her skull. "Never party with Oghren."

Anora nodded and sat up. She felt like she was wearing a helmet lined with needles, and the helmet was getting smaller. Someone less cautious than herself had taken possession of her body and done very irresponsible things with it. She cradled her forehead and moaned.

"Here, drink this." He pushed a mug at her face.

Anora sniffed it and drew back, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh, it smells like rotten nug meat." She frowned up at him. "This is a potion, isn't it?"

"Mmm, but it comes from Wynne," he said, "and not an abandoned cellar of ill repute. Elfroot, rosehips, and some other stuff you probably don't want to know about. Your standard morning after remedy." He smiled faintly. "I can assure you that I have tested it, and it works."

She lifted the cup to her mouth and drank; the potion tasted just as bad as it smelled. "You must leave for Amaranthine as soon as possible," she said, wincing. "If your dwarven friend beats you there, nobody will be fit to speak to you when you arrive."

Alistair knelt beside her. "Most of his stuff isn't quite so...potent." His face opened, and he reached for her hand tentatively. She heard the floorboards creak under his knees. He asked, "Are you mad at me?"

Anora stared into her cup. The elixir was already beginning to ease the pain in her head, and she laughed. "Not even a little."

She glanced at him and watched his face break into a smile. He pulled back the covers and crawled back into bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and nestling his face in her hair. He exhaled. His breath tickled, and she shifted, putting a little distance between them.

"Don't feel too proud of yourself," she said. "You still have a lot to learn."

He ran his fingers up and down her arm. "I just need some practice."

"Yes," she agreed. He took her empty cup and set it down on a nightstand; Anora cleared her throat and he quickly found a coaster for it. Alistair turned back to her, his eyes questing, and she added, "Although it doesn't necessarily have to be with—"

"Stop." His hand found her waist, and she realized with some surprise that she was naked. "I can wait a few days, right?" he asked, pressing his nose against her cheek. "I mean, Oghren probably hasn't even woken up yet."

Anora shrugged. He came around in front of her and touched a kiss to her lips. He pulled back, meeting her eyes, and she smiled. He kissed her again, breathing into her, his hands running over the curve of her ribcage. She fell back to the mattress. The blanket pulled away from her, draped over his hips, and Alistair froze. He stared down at her.

Her brow furrowed. "What?" she asked.

Alistair blinked. "I've just...I've never actually seen your breasts before," he said, and continued to stare. "And, wow. They are awesome."

Anora covered her face with her hand. "You are so immature."

"Yeah, well, you're a pain in the ass," he said, and laughed.

-o-

The King insisted on royal armor. To Anora this did not seem very practical, but he assured her that he was accustomed to travelling in heavy plate, and he thought it would seem more official. The suit was retrieved from storage, the metal polished to a mirror-like gleam, and a glow surrounded him when he stepped into the light. He did look very regal, she decided, and that was not something she would usually think about him.

Anora had donned her best silk gown to see him off at the palace gates. Ser Horace and his honor guard surrounded him, waiting quietly. She looked up at the parapets and noticed some of them required new shingles. Anora frowned; she would have to speak to the groundskeeper when this was over.

Stepping towards her, Alistair bent slightly to kiss her and then moved away.

"Well, I'm off," he said, swinging his arms. "Good-bye, Anora."

"Farewell, your Majesty," she replied, and curtsied.

Alistair nodded. "So, I'm going to go, now."

He kept saying that, but Anora noticed that he hadn't actually moved. She wondered how much longer he was going to stand there; she hoped it wouldn't be too long. Alistair had kept her almost completely occupied the last few days, and while it had not been unpleasant, she had fallen rather far behind on her work. The new trade agreements with Orzammar were not going to arbitrate themselves. Anora tapped her toe impatiently.

The moment dragged on. Alistair looked at her, pensive, then dropped his eyes to the ground. He kicked a rock with his foot, stone clanging against metal, then looked up at her again, squinting.

"Is there something else?" she asked.

Alistair spread his hands. "Um...I love you?"

Anora raised her eyebrows. "You have a very strange sense of humor, Alistair," she said.

"Yeah, I'm hysterical." Alistair blushed. He shifted his shoulders, his armor clanking, and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "That was way too soon." He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Of course you didn't," she said, as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "You don't love me, Alistair." With a quick glance at Ser Horace, Anora leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "You just love having sex with me. It's not actually the same thing."

"Mmm." He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist. His shoulder guard bumped into her cheek, and Anora squirmed uncomfortably. "You're right," he said, nuzzling her. "It's just the sex."

"Ugh, Alistair. Let go of me." Anora planted her hands on his chest and wriggled away. "We're in public."

Indeed, Ser Horace looked very uncomfortable. The knight was standing just behind Alistair, staring pointedly off to the side. Anora glanced at him with eyebrows lifted, bringing the guard's discomfort to Alistair's attention, and her husband took a careful step back.

Alistair's eyes were as big as saucers, glittering with need. He asked, "Are you going to miss me, at least?"

"Are you going to give me the opportunity, at some point?" She flashed a smile, and he nodded, but his face fell. Anora looked at the ground. "Please don't be like this," she said quietly. Her dress was mussed from his attention, she noticed, and she smoothed it with her hands. "If you ask me for more than I have to give, you will be disappointed."

"All right then," Alistair said, shrugging. "I'm really going..."

She looked up to see him leave. The sun glinted off his golden armor as he turned away from her, surrounded by his soldiers. They were heading north, of course, not west, but her heart still skipped a beat. Not again, Anora thought suddenly, and she closed her eyes.

"Be careful," she said.

Alistair spun around, smiling broadly. "Ah, do I detect a note of concern?"

Anora huffed. "Well, you're much too reckless, Alistair," she said, crossing her arms. "I understand you're very capable with a sword, but you're not invincible and... well," His hazel eyes met hers. He was like a beautiful puppy dog, she thought. Anora shook her head. "I would be in a difficult position, if you died," she said. "So please don't."

Alistair seemed to take this for all sorts of things she was sure she hadn't said. His shoulders relaxed, his eyes softened, and she watched his heart make all sorts of commitments she hadn't asked him to keep. Anora sighed.

"I'll be careful," he promised.

-o-