It was still dark when I awoke, and for half a second I panicked, unsure of where I was. As my breath hitched in my throat, the strong arm draped across my waist pulled me closer, into the warm, solid form of a still-sleeping Alistair. He mumbled something, unintelligibly, and let out a heavy sigh, but otherwise didn't stir. The events of the night before came flooding back and I smiled in the darkness, rolling over to face him.
His mouth was slightly open and he was snoring, gently. His hair was badly in need of a trim and sticking up at all angles. I thought to myself that I'd never seen anyone or anything so perfect. As I watched him sleep, my mind was assaulted by flashbacks of the night before, and I squirmed uncomfortably at the effect the images were having on my body.
My squirming must have disturbed him because he woke with a strangled gasp, his eyes flying open wide.
"Lauren!" He hissed, and I felt his whole body tense. His eyes found mine and he visibly relaxed, before crushing me to his chest, kissing the top of my head.
"Yes?" I squeaked, startled by the urgency of his movements. He breathed a deep sigh into my hair.
"Sorry." He mumbled. "That's...been happening lately."
"You...oh." I whispered as a wave of guilt washed over me. I had been so preoccupied with my own restless nights that I hadn't stopped to think how my abduction had affected his. "I'm here." I promised. He loosened his grip on me slightly, but kept his arms circled around me, protectively.
"I'm never letting you go again. You realise this, I hope?" He asked, a hint of playfulness piercing through the weight of his words.
"No complaints here." I smiled up at him, tracing a finger lightly across his collarbone. He shuddered, pleasantly, at my touch, and I grinned, marvelling in the power I seemed to have over his body. He trailed a hand over my lower back, eliciting a similar shiver from me, as though silently reminding me I wasn't the only one with said power. He shifted his weight slightly, propping himself up on his side to gaze down at me.
"How do you feel?" He murmured, brushing my hair behind my ears and cradling my face in his palm. His eyes were full of concern as he stared into mine, searchingly. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have to think about the answer to that question.
"I feel wonderful." I smiled, brilliantly, but the small frown of uncertainty on his face deepened. I laughed, nervously. "That's a very serious face, Warden."
"Are you certain?" He asked, quietly. "No...regrets?"
"Oh, I have plenty of regrets." I said, glibly. "If you're referring to last night, however, no. Well...maybe that it didn't happen sooner. Can you believe that's what we've been missing out on this whole time?"
He chuckled, quietly, before his face grew serious again.
"Action ou Vérité. Did I hurt you?" The way the perfectly accented Orlesian words tripped off his tongue sent me reeling, so that I almost missed the question. I cleared my throat, rolling my shoulders a little to shake off the desperate urge to throw myself at him.
"Non." I responded in Orlesian, my lips curling in a seductive smile. I wondered if the accent would have the same effect on him as it had on me. "Mais cette chose que tu as faite avec ta langue…sacré bleu!"
His eyes narrowed and he growled, rolling on top of me and kissing me, deeply. I let out a small squeak of surprise at the suddenness of his attack, but quickly reciprocated, letting my hands roam over his sculpted torso. I wanted to ask him if he had understood what I had said to him, or if it was just the sexy accent that had elicited this response, but when we reached the point where he would usually break the kiss, he kept going. And then kept going. Much to my delight.
Afterwards, we lay side-by-side, panting, just as the first rays of sun crept in through the window, and I let out a giggle of pure bliss.
"I could really get used to this." I grinned, looking over to see a similar grin of smug satisfaction on his face. "I'm no expert but...I feel like we're, like...really good at this."
"You're incredible." He breathed, stretching his arm out to bring me closer. "That was…"
"It was." I agreed.
"How did I get to be so lucky?" He asked, frowning up at the ceiling, as if waiting for an answer from on high. "How? How did I find you in the middle of a blight?"
"I was just wondering the same thing." I grinned, trailing a finger through the smattering of blonde curls on his broad chest.
"No, I...I don't think you understand." He said, peering down at me. "You're...you."
"Most of the time." I grinned, shooting him a slightly confused look.
"No, I mean...when we first met, I never would have believed that you could possibly...and then the more I found out about you, the more I got to know you...well, that just made it even clearer to me that you were so far out of my reach that I was foolish for even dreaming of reaching, but..." He rambled, still talking to the ceiling. "I mean, I've seen the way men look at you. I don't blame them. You're this beautiful, confident, fierce, clever, funny creature. You are...mesmerising. That you've chosen to be with me...like this, I…"
The more he spoke, the more uncomfortable I started to feel. Sure, there was some truth to what he was saying. I knew I was the type of pretty that men liked, but it had never meant that much to me. Emily had always made more of an effort in her appearance, had always been more interested in boys than I was, so I had always let her be beautiful for the both of us. I knew I was confident. Clever? Occasionally. Funny? Well, obviously. It wasn't really the things he was saying that made me squirm. It was all of the things he was leaving out. All of the qualifications that I had heard my whole life. From others, and from myself. She's beautiful, but she knows it. She's arrogant. She's not very nice, is she? She thinks she's so clever. She never takes anything seriously.
"What are you thinking?" He asked, and I realised I'd been in my own head and silent for too long when I heard a trace of insecurity in his voice.
"Just that it's awfully high up here, on this pedestal. You're too gracious in your opinion of me." I replied, honestly.
"Lauren, you're the most…"
"No, no." I cut him off before he could tell me again how great I was. "I don't need my ego stroked, that's not what I meant. I just think...look, it's wonderful that you have such a high opinion of me. Just remember that I'm not perfect. I happen to be a deeply flawed individual. But when you're looking at someone through a rose-tinted lens, all of the red flags just look like flags."
"What do you mean? What flags?"
"Red flags? I mean...like warning signs." I explained. "It's not really a bad thing...well, sometimes it is. Mostly, it's just...something to be aware of. Everyone has them. You have some."
"What are mine?" He asked, frowning.
I chewed my lip, thoughtfully, looking up at him. Mummy issues. Daddy issues. Hero complex. Survivor's guilt. Predisposition to alcoholism, so a potential addictive personality. People pleaser. Use humour as a defense mechanism, which speaks to a deep-seated, crippling insecurity and a need for approval…
"It doesn't matter, nothing big." I said, dismissively. "The point is, I'm not blind to your flaws. I just love them too. I just hope that...you're not building me up too much in your head. I'll never live up to it, otherwise."
"Oh." He said, looking slightly crestfallen. "Right. Of course, I...of course."
"Well, shit, now I've ruined the afterglow, haven't I?" I realised, rolling my eyes at myself. "See? There's a flaw. Not knowing when to just shut up and bask in the arms of a wonderful, gorgeous man who loves me."
He sniffed, looking away, before slowly looking down at me again, his mouth quirking up in a playful smile.
"Gorgeous?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. I nodded.
"And clever. And funny. And fierce. All of the good qualities you see in me? I just hope that you see them in yourself, too. Because they're there, and they're undeniable. I would add kind to your list, though. You're a very kind person. I'm not kind, or soft, or warm. I'm a hard line."
"You're kind to me." He said, quietly, running his fingers lightly up and down my arm. "And you're soft with me. And warm."
"I know." I said, softly. "That's because I love you. Hell slap it into anyone who gets on my bad side, though."
"Oh, I know. Last night, before we...made nice. You were scary."
"You were kind of scary, yourself." I laughed at the memory. "Angry Alistair is...something."
"Yeah?" He asked, with a small smile of something like pride.
"Authoritative." I said, forcing my face into a serious frown. "Very commanding."
"And you believed that? Maybe you're not as clever as I gave you credit for."
"See? We're learning." I grinned.
He chuckled, kissing me softly.
"You really are scary sometimes, though." He said, quietly. "Especially for someone so little."
"Yep. That's me. I'm a wolf in sheep's clothing." I said, in a low, dangerous purr.
"Awww. That's adorable." He gushed.
"What? No, it's…" I crumpled into a fit of laughter at the earnest look on his face, and he grinned back.
"Can you imagine? A little wolf, all dressed up like a sheep. Living his dreams of being a sheep." He tutted, sinking back into the pillows. "That's lovely."
"You're a beautiful idiot."
"But wait." He suddenly pinched the skin of my hip with the hand that had been resting there and I yelped, jerking away from him.
"What the-"
"It's a wolfy. Oh, it looks hungry." He pinched me again. It didn't hurt, but it did tickle - which everyone knows is worse - and I yelped again, reaching out to grab the offending wrist, but he held it out of my reach. "No, no, I think it's just a scout. If you lie very still, maybe it will leave..."
As completely ridiculous as it was, I did as I was told, holding my breath until the wolfy scout - which, of course, was just his hand in a pinch grip that he was trailing over my stomach, moving it around as though it was a wolf's head, sniffing my skin - finally disappeared and became a regular hand again. I let out a deep sigh of relief and he burst out laughing.
"I can't believe you actually played along with that."
"I was actually so scared."
"You weren't even breathing!"
"Well, I didn't want the wolfy scout to hear me." I muttered, flushing with embarrassment as the words tumbled out of my mouth.
He was laughing uncontrollably now at the utter ridiculousness of the situation, and I grinned up at him.
"That was the funniest thing I've ever seen." He howled. "Your face. You were so serious."
"It's not funny!" I insisted, suppressing a laugh of my own. "I hate being tickled."
"Well, I'm sorry, but now you've revealed your weakness." He said, still grinning. "You can't hand me all this power and expect me not to wield it. You're at my mercy, now."
"No, please, Alistair, it's not funny. It's not funny!" I shrieked as he attacked me again, tickling my sides as I thrashed around, eventually managing to escape his clutches by throwing myself out of bed and landing in a crouch on the cold, stone floor. I rose to my feet, turning to face him, my body still tensed, defensively, and the laughter died in his throat as I stood, naked, before him. He let out a small groan as his eyes trailed down my body, eventually making their way back up to meet my own, hooded with lust.
"Now who's revealed their weakness?" I smirked.
"If naked Lauren is my weakness, I implore you to exploit it at every possible opportunity." He murmured, moving so quickly that I barely had time to react as he leapt out of bed, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me close. He towered over me, all six foot something of rippling muscle and golden skin. Not for the first time, I felt tiny in his arms, and he stepped back, flopping back onto the bed and pulling me down on top of him, claiming my mouth before I had a chance to catch my breath.
As we made love again, I marvelled at his seemingly endless stamina. I wondered if it was a Grey Warden thing, a Templar thing, or if it was just an Alistair thing, but I liked to think it was a little of all three. I wondered, absently, how much longer he could possibly keep this up
I didn't get to find out, however, as a loud knock on the door made us both freeze.
"Lauren?"
"Oh, shit, it's Grayson." I hissed, scrambling to untangle myself from him. "Just a moment!" I called, trying to sound composed.
"What? Lauren, I can't hear you."
"Just a second, Grayson." I called back, louder.
"I can't hear you. I'm coming in."
"No, don't...You locked the door last night, right?"
I whipped my head round to look at Alistair as he struggled with the tangle of bed sheets, quickly throwing them over both of us.
"Yes." He said, quickly, before frowning thoughtfully. "Oh...but then I think I unlocked it and...did I lock it again?"
The door was flung open and I clutched the bed sheets to my chest with a yelp, protecting my modesty.
"So...that would be a no." I muttered, cowering into his side and burying my face in his shoulder as Grayson stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before him.
"Andraste's ass! Sorry!" He cried, quickly covering his eyes. We watched him as he fumbled, blindly for the door knob. After a painfully long time, he found it, slowly pulling the door closed behind him. "Congratulations!" Came a muffled cry as the door clicked shut. We sat in stunned silence, watching the now-closed door.
"So, that wasn't great." I said, turning to Alistair with an amused smile.
"Yeah." He said, slowly. "We should probably…"
"Finish what we started." I finished for him, and he chuckled, blushing pleasantly.
"I was going to say put some clothes on."
"Oh. Right. Yeah, that's...sensible."
"But...if the lady insists." He grinned, his eyes flashing wickedly. "Who am I to refuse?"
I hesitated, biting my lip.
"No, you're right." I sighed, reluctantly. "As much as I would like to stay here all day. I don't think I'm ever going to get enough of you. We should get dressed. It's getting late, and we're supposed to be leaving right about now. Besides, we both need to bathe before we venture into the outside world. We smell like sex."
"What does sex smell like?" He wondered, raising an arm and sniffing his armpit, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Well, fuck."
"Alistair!" I exclaimed, shocked at his use of profanity.
"What?" He asked, innocently.
"Language!"
"You curse all the time!"
"Yeah, I do, but you don't."
"Well...we've been spending a lot of time together. You're a terrible influence, you know."
"Oh, don't say that. I don't want to be the one responsible for corrupting you."
"I'd say it's a little late for that, wouldn't you?" He smirked, halting my indignant response with a swift kiss.
Before we could get too caught up in each other again, Alistair got up, padding barefoot to the adjoining washroom to draw a bath for me. I let him, more because I didn't really know how to work the medieval contraption than anything else, and when my bath was ready he pulled his trousers on, shooting me one final look of longing and sighing, deeply, before heading to his own room to wash up. As soon as I was alone, I missed his company. I shook my head, sternly telling myself to get a grip as I made my way to the washroom, gathering up one of the rough drying cloths that were piled on the chair in the corner of my room as I went.
I didn't spend too long bathing, as pleasant as the warm water felt on my tired and aching muscles after a long night of exertions, painfully aware that the longer I tarried, the later we would have to leave, and the busier the city would become. I dried myself, quickly, and fashioned my wet hair into a french braid. I was just about to pull on my splintmail when my eye caught the cloth package that Grayson had dropped off yesterday.
A ripple of excitement ran through me as I unwrapped it, feeling like a kid at Christmas.
"Black leather? Really?" I asked aloud, to nobody in particular. "Okay, then. I guess if Wade's decided to go with the dominatrix vibe, I'm just going to have to lean into it."
It took me longer than I had anticipated to get dressed. The trousers, though skin-tight, were easy enough. The top...I wasn't sure what I would call it. It wasn't a hauberk, it wasn't a coat, and it wasn't a corset, but it looked like it had elements of all three. It was short at the front, but long and almost cape-like at the back. It was adorned with several silver-buckled straps across the waist which took forever to fasten, as the new leather was still stiff. It fastened up asymmetrically, creating an aesthetically pleasing diagonal line running from my right shoulder to my left hip. There were silver shoulder plates embedded in the leather, and the black leather gauntlets had similar silver plate detailing at the elbow. When I finally managed to get the boots fastened - no small feat as the same silver buckles on the top also ran up the sides of the boots, all the way from ankle to knee, I was sweating profusely.
I looked down at myself, running my hands over my leather-clad hips, appraisingly.
"Every single character from The Matrix called. They want their outfit back." I muttered to myself, but I couldn't deny that I felt like a little bit of a bad-ass. I packed my things, quickly, struggling for a time to fit my old splintmail armour into my pack and eventually giving up, leaving it in a neat pile on the bed. I ripped a blank page out of my diary and left a scribbled note with it that said, "Free to a good home", before shrugging into my dagger holster and swinging my pack onto my shoulder. One last sweep of the room confirmed that I hadn't left anything behind, and I turned to leave, only hesitating briefly at the prospect of facing Grayson, before I made my way down the hall to the main bar.
Alistair was there already, mid-conversation with Grayson, Wynne, Leliana and Zevran, his face red but smiling, and I figured they had already begun interrogations. He looked up at my arrival and his jaw dropped. I couldn't say I blamed him. I would have been shocked to see my Underworld-looking self too. Grayson turned to see what he was looking at and grinned.
"Looking good, DuVal." He called across the room, alerting the others to my approach. Zevran whistled, appreciatively, and even Wynne raised her eyebrows a little.
"Lauren! You look…" Leliana rose from her seat, cocking her head to the side as she thought of an appropriate word. "Intimidating."
"Thank you." I said, with a genuine smile. "I feel intimidating. Like maybe I won't have to fight so many people now because they'll see me and be like, "Oh shit, son, this bitch didn't come to play". That's how it goes in my head, anyway. Where are the others?"
"Morrigan's over there." Grayson jerked his head in the direction of a corner table, where the witch sat alone, poring over the grimoire that she was now rarely seen without. It didn't look like light reading, but she'd been at it for weeks now. I discovered, when she was probing me about Valour that that's where she'd been disappearing off to since we had left the Circle tower. If she had reached the part where Flemeth takes the bodies of her daughters in order to extend her life, she hadn't shared that information with the rest of us yet. Or if she had, nobody had enlightened me.
"Where's Larry?" I asked, frowning when I realised I hadn't been attacked by three hundred pounds worth of fur and slobbers yet.
"Sten's waiting for us at the city gate. He took the hounds for a walk. We figured word's probably gotten around now that they're looking for three wardens and two mabari, so we thought it best that he took them on ahead."
"What do you mean he took the hounds?" I asked, thoroughly confused. Mabari don't just go with anyone who isn't their person. Khan respected me as Grayson's friend and Larry's human, but if I tried to tell him what to do he'd have laugh-barked in my face.
Grayson shrugged.
"Don't ask me to explain it. Those three have bonded. Sten mostly communicates with them in growls, so I think the hounds think he's one of them."
"That's…" I frowned, before shaking my head, deciding that it was a question for another day. "Sure, why not. Are we ready to roll out?"
"We were waiting for you." Grayson said, brightly, jumping to his feet as the others followed suit, and we made our way to the door.
I tried to hang back to walk with Alistair, but he had already been accosted by Zevran, and Grayson threw an arm over my shoulder, guiding me away from them. I reddened instantly when he grinned down at me.
"So...you finally-"
"We're not talking about this." I said, bluntly. "Just because you walked in on...doesn't mean we're talking about this."
"Such a prude."
"No, I'm just...a private person."
He scoffed, as if I'd given him no indication of the sort. I thought that was a little unfair, considering just how much I kept to myself on a regular basis.
"Anyway. I thought you might want this." He said, reaching into one of the many pockets of his new armour and producing a small, glass vial of clear liquid.
"And why did you think I would want that?" I asked, curiously. He leaned in, lowering his voice.
"Wynne picked up some fresh witherstalk at the market yesterday. I told her we might need some soon." He whispered, conspiratorially.
"Witherstalk?" I frowned, something twigging in my memory. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm already sweating in this leather, I'm pretty sure if I downed a warming draught I might spontaneously combust."
"Warming...no, it's...Maker, you really were a virgin, weren't you?" He grinned, shaking his head.
"What are you talking about?" I growled, trying and failing to shrug him off.
"Just...drink this. Unless we want the pitter-patter of little Grey Warden feet any time soon."
I blanched, instantly. I had been so wrapped up in how happy I had felt, I hadn't even stopped to think about the potential consequences. I shot him a significant look, and he nodded, knowingly, holding the vial out to me. I accepted it, gratefully, knocking it back in one.
"Wait." He said, suddenly. "One dose is only good for one...time...if you know what I mean. How many…?"
"Give me three more doses." I said, urgently, reaching out a hand, expectantly. When he made no move to do anything of the sort, I looked up at him, quizzically, to see a devilish grin on his face.
"No, wait, I forgot. That dose is good for one month." He said, clearly amused with his own cleverness. "Four times in one night, though? Way to go, Alistair."
"Oh, I hate you, Grayson Cousland."
AN: So, let's not beat around the bush, this chapter was pure fluff. After the last few chapters, I just felt like I needed something a little lighter, and I felt like the characters needed something to be happy about too. I'm hoping you guys feel the same way! Thank you to my beta-reader, Kira Tamarion, for your always helpful insight.
And thank you to you guys again for leaving some reviews on the last chapter. I know I'm always saying this but it really does mean a lot. I think it's super cool that you take the time to share your thoughts with me.
Did you guys enjoy this chapter? Are you a fan of the fluff or are you desperate to get back to the gritty, angsty, dark and twisty stuff? Let me know your thoughts!