A/N: A bit of a short one but…damn, who knew Alistair was such a sexy beast?
So sorry it took so long to get this up, poetry over took my brain. But it was worth it cause I freaking WRECKED SHOP at my slam on Sunday, won the whole damn thing! Sorry, had to get that out, I'm just really excited.
Thanks once more to everyone who has faved/followed/reviewed. I love your reviews, they keep me writing and I feel truly blessed to receive each and every one of them. So please! R&R!
Elissa lingered in the bathing chamber far longer than necessary, hoping her husband would tire of waiting for her return and fall asleep. When she at last crept back into the bedroom, she was at once horrified and relieved to find him lying on his side, a hand cradling his head, eyes wide open and staring at her. A sheet covered him from the hips down, giving her a glimpse of the smooth and chiseled line of his stomach, ropes of muscles taunt and tempting. She blushed and turned away, quickly striding to her side of the bed, eyes refusing to glance once more upon his exposed flesh, certain that with every glimpse she would be flooded with images of their frantic and wholly explosive coupling.
When Elissa slipped beneath the sheets, silent and withdrawn, she heard the rustle of linen and felt Alistair turn to his other side to regard her.
"Elissa," he murmured, voice persistent and low.
"No, Alistair," she whispered in reply, unwilling to discuss the consummation of their marriage in the wicked dark of night; far better to do so in the harsh and unforgiving light of day when she could gather her proud and detached bearing about her once more. She was still recovering from the desire that had coursed through her veins, completely undoing her; an emotion that still lingered, making her aware of every part of her body. Praying that he would heed her words, she closed her eyes and longed for sleep. A second later she found herself pinned to the mattress, Alistair gripping her wrists above her head, his determined and handsome face looming over hers.
"Yes, Elissa," he said softly, voice filled with emotions she was not prepared to deal with.
"I can't," she whispered, "it's too much…what we did-"
"Do not say you regret it," he interrupted, grip tightening on her wrists, "please."
"Why?"
"That was a long time in coming, and even you know it," Alistair said fiercely, "Do not pretend otherwise. You cannot tell me that every argument, every harsh word, every single moment of almost-touch between us has not been leading up to what just happened."
"I can and I will; you're wrong," Elissa said, eyes flickering away from his.
"There was a time I would have let you have the lie, but no more."
"And you know me so well as that, to hear the deception in my voice?" Elissa snapped, "I stand by my statement."
"I do not need to know you to hear the falsehood in words," he said, voice gone low and throaty, "my name on your lips as you writhed beneath me is all the proof I need."
"Stop it," she whispered, though she could not keep the blush off her face.
"Things are different now, Elissa, I will have the truth."
"Get off me," she said, squirming beneath his weight, trying to ignore how every movement brushed her skin against his.
"We will talk about this," Alistair protested.
"Remove yourself and we will!" she cried in response, "I can't do this with you…pressing into me"
Alistair growled in frustration but released her arms, sitting back on his haunches and watched her scramble backwards until her spine hit the head board, sheet clasped tight to her chest.
"Now," he said patiently, eyes pinning her, "tell me again…the truth this time."
"No…" she replied softly, "I do not regret it." Something in him loosened at her words and his muscles relaxed, letting go of a tension he hadn't been aware he carried. "Do you?" she ventured hesitantly.
"No," he sighed, eyes closed, "Though I do wish…."
Elissa waited for him to continue, heart hammering in her throat. A thousand different endings to that sentence danced through her head, running the gamut from ludicrous to outright hurtful. When seconds passed with no further words from him, Elissa took the plunge, steeling herself for the ensuing pain.
"You wish it was Harlow, instead of I, in your bed," she finished for him, voice gone soft with defeat. Alistair snapped his head up at her words, shock overtaking his features.
"No!" he protested, "I wish I had not spoke of divorce before we….why would you think of Harlow?"
"Because you love her," she replied, "and you do not love me. Why, in all your wishing, would you not want her to take my place in all this?"
"Is that…Maker, I have been a fool," Alistair muttered to himself. Elissa watched him, genuinely confused by his behavior. He sprang off the bed and paced about the room, hands running a nervous pattern through his disheveled hair. "All this time…the tourney, the training…even the friendship with Shianni…you've been trying to be more like Harlow."
Elissa gaped at him, stunned by his words. Protests rushed at her tongue, ready to tumble out and dispute the words, but something stayed her from speaking, wondering if he was perhaps right. Shaking her head she brushed the feeling away and set her shoulders.
"I have been doing no such thing," she said firmly, "I simply find it odd that we worship a goddess who made her name in battle but women aren't allowed to enter a simple tourney, that is all…and Shianni, I like her, truly, our friendship is…was built on mutual admiration."
Alistair looked at her, eyes gone soft, her words not even registering. He crawled back on to the bed, settling in front of her once more, and she felt herself tense at his close proximity.
"Never think that you have to be her, Elissa," he said, placing a hand upon her cheek, "you can't so don't even try." She felt the sting of his words straight to her soul, and she turned away to hide the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Alistair gently turned her face back to his, a saddened smile on his lips. "I don't want you to be her," he explained, "I will always love Harlow, Elissa, how can I not? But she has her own life to live, and I mine…our choices no longer include each other, and so I do not wish for a copy of her. I much prefer you be yourself: trying, opinionated, infuriating, proud, intelligent, and oh so lovely."
Elissa swallowed hard, his declaration far too much for her to take in and make sense of. Finding it difficult to anything more she simply nodded and rearranged the sheet that covered her, her hands nervously seeking out something to do.
"Well, then, that's…thank you," she said at last before awkwardly reclining on the bed, a silent request for sleep.
"We aren't done, Elissa," he said, tone still gentle but with the edge of a command laced around the edges. She sighed wearily and rose once more, fiercely wishing this wholly awkward and emotional conversation could end and she could find respite in the fade. Surely once the morning dawned she would have her wits about her once more and the two of them could slip back into their roles of squabbling tolerance?
"What is it, then?" she asked in irritation.
"I owe you an apology," he said, "I accused you of vile things, and only moments later took you to bed. Not exactly the gentlemanly thing to do."
"I do not want to talk about Eamon, Alistair," she said through clenched teeth, "I will deal with him in due time. Now if that is all, I would very much like to go to sleep."
All softness left his face at her words, replaced once more with that hard, determined passion that had over taken him earlier. Elissa flushed at the change, coughing lightly to hide her reaction.
"Stop it, Elissa," he warned, inching closer to her, muscles tense.
"Stop what, my king?" she asked innocently.
"Stop pretending as if tonight meant nothing to you," he cried, every word bridging the gap between them until he gripped the headboard behind her, arms caging her. "I know you felt something," he murmured, eyes slowly tracing a languid trail over her exposed skin, "The way you trembled at my touch, the things you said…do not pretend that I played you very well this night, my lady."
"Whatever you think I felt, Alistair, it wasn't love," she retorted, steel in her voice, though her labored breath betrayed her. He laughed darkly in response and the sound made something low in her abdomen clench in expectation.
"Hardly," he whispered, eyes returning once more to her face, "Were it so it wouldn't have been nearly as interesting. But you cannot deny that there is something between us, Elissa, and I'll be damned if you think I'll let you disappear back behind a wall of pampered indifference. I know where you live now, my queen, and believe me when I say that I intend on making myself at home."
Elissa's eyes widened, as he leaned in and placed a gentle, teasing kiss upon her lips, the act miles away from chaste. He pulled back and flashed her a wicked grin, eyes flashing with dark promises.
"Good night, Lady Theirin," he said softly before stretching out beside her and closing his eyes. Elissa watched him drift off into sleep, willing her heart to slow. When at last she managed to relax and let exhaustion claim her, she dreamt of hands on flesh, gliding sinfully, and her name whispered on Alistair's lips like a promise.