Chapter 1

"Maker's breath, but you are beautiful," he said, causing a shiver to run down her spine. His eyes burned into her, and she knew she was lost. The kisses they had shared up until now had been tentative, sensitive, though intense - just like him. She knew something had changed, however. She tried to maintain eye contact, but it wasn't possible to meet that smoldering gaze for long. She leaned in, instead, and pressed her face into his neck. With his armour on, it was the only skin she could come into contact with - he was nearly a head taller than her, and wearing platemail from the neck down. "Thank the Maker he took off that helmet," she thought. It was a giant, blackened thing with horns and red around the eye openings; she thought it would give her pause in combat, if she looked upon that helmet, but as much as she appreciated whatever protection it provided him, it wasn't great for romance.

"Come into my tent, Alistair. Stay with me tonight." She didn't say it out loud.

Even as a whisper, it would have felt too loud, too final. She suffered a pang of anxiety - she thought she knew his feelings, but what if she was wrong? She was the only one who had said anything, committed feelings to spoken words. Though to be fair she'd thought he was dying at the time, and would not have volunteered otherwise.

They had been doing a complex courting dance for months. They had exchanged small gifts - he had given her a rose, picked in a town they passed through a few weeks back, running ahead of the horde of darkspawn; she had given him a small statue, carved from Onyx, of a dragon; a merchant in the same small town had traded her for it for a few rations of food. Neither gift was very practical on the road, but they both cherished the memories of the exchange. To an outsider, it would have seemed awkward when he first gave her the rose; he had stuttered, and finally asked "do you know what this is?" But she saw the sweetness of it, the fear of hope that bloomed on his face as he shyly offered it to her, and loved him more for it. The smile of genuine, childlike delight when she'd handed him the tiny statue was well worth stifling her laughter at his bumbling. He'd caught her hand, kissed her fingers, and she knew she was his. But she didn't say it; neither of them spoke for a few hours afterwards, too wrapped up in their own insecurities to risk it. When they'd finally made camp, the presence of the others and the easy routine of preparing supper and erecting tents helped the awkwardness fade and they were able

to carry on.

He'd stolen his first kiss that night, sitting together on a massive tree root, watching the sunset. The red reflection of the clouds was beautiful, but they both knew the cause wasn't anything as peaceful as it seemed - fires burned in the south, and the darkspawn were feeding on the dead. It made the kiss seem that much more intense, and they both scrambled to their respective tents to hide the desire and embarrassment for the night. But in the morning, while she was gathering wood, he surprised her in the forest, out of sight of the camp, and kissed her again. Over the next few weeks, the pattern continued - brief kisses, stolen by one or the other, in the few moments when no one else was looking. They didn't talk about it, couldn't bring themselves to speculate on their future; they just captured every memory they could, and tried to pretend nothing was happening as much as possible.

Finding time started becoming more and more difficult. Between the long, dangerous treks through unforgiving wilderness and openly hostile settlements, and their traveling companions, it was harder and harder to sneak away. Wynne was watching, as always, a surrogate mother who would likely disapprove; Zevran kept up with his not so subtle advances when they made camp, and Elyssa was starting to suspect that for all of Morrigan's sarcasm and barbs, she hadn't failed to see the appeal of the strong, sweet, self-deprecating Templar either. Tensions were rising, and an explosion was looming; Alistair would visibly stiffen every time Zevran got within ten feet of her, and Elyssa had to restrain herself from interjecting comments into Alistair's verbal sparring matches with Morrigan.

But two days ago, that had all changed. They had been ambushed by a group of Loghain's Elite as they emerged from the wilderness heading towards Denerim. The battle had been fierce, and Wynne had been stunned, unable to heal; they won, and killed 14 of Loghain's men, but when the dust settled, Elyssa found Alistair in a pool of blood at the centre of where the worst of the fighting had been. A stray spear had found an opening in his armour under his armpit, and impaled him still. She searched frantically for some sign of life, unable to summon enough breath to call for Wynne; under her breath she muttered a mantra that consisted of "You can't leave me, you bastard," and "I love you, Alistair." She hadn't even realized that Wynne had arrived until she felt his hand briefly clench hers, and then he passed out. Wynne, Morrigan, Zevran, and Leliana were all standing there staring at her in shock. No one spoke a word, but Elyssa heard Morrigan muttering to herself later - "Love, is it? I suppose I shall have to leave that alone."

Alistair slept the remainder of the day on a hastily assembled travois, and the group took turns pulling him through the night until they found a campsite that seemed safe. The next afternoon, when he finally woke, he said nothing, and Elyssa couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed. They talked about inconsequential things, sharing small touches and hesitant smiles, and for once, the group left them alone. Magical healing was an amazing thing - despite the severity of the injury, Alistair would bear only a faint scar; what it gave in health, however, it took in stamina, and he was exhausted. He slept intermittently, and Elyssa took it upon herself to feed him when his arms were too tired to continue. By the morning, his energy was back and he seemed almost his normal self, though strangely subdued. Instead of his usual persistent questions, teases, and jokes as they walked, he remained quiet and thoughtful. He sat alone at supper, and only Wynne dared approach him; they spoke very quietly for a half hour, after which she pointedly retired to her tent. Elyssa, lost in thought

sitting beside the campfire, didn't notice until Alistair sat down beside her, but the entire group was conspicuously absent.

She inquired about his injury, and he laughed it off.

"I've had worse. You should see the scar from when I was bucked off a horse during my training at the Chantry. I landed on a crumbling stone ruin, and a great block fell and crushed my breastplate. Mind you, looking at this scar this morning, that mage the Chantry kept was a total hack. Wynne is a true professional."

They got up and walked together, and she noticed he was angling her away from the others' tents.

"Oh yeah? Have you lots of scars from your training, then?"

"Mostly mental." Alistair laughed. "It's unfair, too - the other boys at the Chantry told me that girls like scars. Mine aren't visible!"

"Is there a girl you're trying to impress, then?"

"Hmm. Yes, there might be."

"Do tell! Do I know her?"

"Oh, I think you've met her once or twice. She's independent, strong, pretty ... and that long black hair and revealing armour aren't bad either!"

"Bastard! Trying to impress Morrigan are you? Damn it, why is your armour so blasted hard?" Elyssa rubbed her elbow ruefully, and he guffawed.

"That's not the first time I've been called a bastard," he said, after a few moments. He grinned at her, ducking his head, and she blushed and spun away from him. He caught her arm and spun her back, leaving her slightly dizzy; when her head cleared, she realized that he held her, pressed against him, and his face was slowly descending towards hers.

"Maker's Breath, but you are beautiful."

She tried to maintain eye contact, but it wasn't possible to meet that smoldering gaze for long. She leaned in, instead, and pressed her face into his neck. He held her like that for a moment, savoring the contact, until she regained control and gazed up at him again.

She unconsciously licked her lips, and lifted herself up onto her toes to close the distance between them. His hand snugged up to her neck, tilting her head and holding her to him, prolonging the kiss. Their mouths opened slightly, and she gently touched his lower lip with her tongue, eliciting a deep groan from Alistair. He squeezed her even closer, their breath coming in pants as their tongues met for

the first time. The kiss seemed to go on forever, but somehow still end too soon as she squirmed and gently pushed him away. He was disappointed as she escaped his grasp, and she must have known because she chuckled softly. Hurt registered on his face, but she silenced him with a finger on his lips before he could ask.

"Your armour is pointy." She gestured to indentations in her own, lighter leather, and he was immediately contrite.

"I'm so sorry, love. I wasn't thinking." He heard her gasp, and glanced at her face to see all the blood draining out of it. He thought back over what he had just said. He reached up and took her hand, which was still resting lightly on his chin, and gently turned it so he could kiss her palm.

"I do, you know. Love you." He saw hope and skepticism warring behind her eyes.

"I mean it, 'Lys. I have loved you from the first time I saw you. Do you remember? You came upon me sassing that mage, on an errand from the Revered Mother in Ostagar. Your eyes twinkled, and I swear you were laughing when the arrogant bastard wasn't looking. Everyone in camp had been so dour for weeks, and when you smiled at me the first time, it felt like when the sun comes out for the first time after a solid month of rain."

Elyssa blushed and looked down, and Alistair gently lifted her chin, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I heard you, after that ambush. I heard you saying my name, over and over, telling me not to die because you loved me. Before I heard it, I could feel myself slipping away. Once I joined the Grey Wardens, I figured I would die in battle, and before you found me, I thought it was my time. But then I heard you, and I couldn't go. Not before I told you that I love you too."

He squeezed her hand, and then let go with an oath as she grimaced when his armour dug into her skin again. He glanced around, then walked away from her to put his back against a massive oak tree trunk. He slid down until he was half sitting, half squatting, and then adjusted a couple of times until he felt comfortable. He held his hand out to her, and she slowly approached and took it. He pulled her

towards him, and she noted she was now very slightly looking down at him to make eye contact.

"How's this? I'd really like to kiss you right now but I'm afraid of hurting you again. Like this, you can just lean in and I promise not to squeeze you."

Elyssa laughed, but then settled in against him and kissed him again. This time their tongues met sooner, and they were both out of breath again. Elyssa pulled back slightly, running her fingers through his sandy hair and examining his face thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Just trying to find some courage."

"Courage? You're the bravest woman I know! You would charge alone and unarmed into the middle of the damn blight! You need more courage like I need a hole in the head." Elyssa threw her head back and let out a peal of laughter.

"I'd almost rather do that than what I am about to do."

"Oh, and what are you about to do?"

"Alistair ... I'd like to invite you into my tent. For- for the night. Tonight. If you want."

"I ... Maker's Breath, Elyssa! I wasn't expecting that."

"Well, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"Oh, I want to. Believe me. I really, really want to. I just-"

"I know. The timing. And the war. We both could die. And you might become king! I just, um, just, well, I think..."

"Oh, that's not it! Honestly. I mean, yes, the timing is awful, but it's not likely to get much better in the foreseeable future, is it? It's not that. It's just ... well, you know I was raised in the Chantry."

"Yes."

"And Templars are raised and trained in seclusion. It's pretty much boys only. Yes? The only women we knew were a few of the sisters and the Revered Mother. And they were all old."

"Okay... ?"

"It's just ... I've never, well, done anything like that before. With anyone."

"Well, that's not necessarily an excuse not to, ever in the future, you know."

"Oh, I know, I just ... what if I don't know what I'm doing? What if I do something wrong? I could hurt you. Look at what I did, and all we were doing was kissing! Or just ... I couldn't stand you leaving because of that. I'd rather not at all than hurt you by accident."

"Alistair. You sweet, sheltered man. Listen to me. On the battlefield, in decisions for the Grey Wardens, you follow my lead. Yes? Nod if you agree. Good. Now. What if that trend just continues?"

Alistair looked confused, his head still nodding from the previous question, a curious frown creasing his forehead. Elyssa took his hand, pulling him up from his seat on the tree trunk, pulling him towards her tent. She noticed that her tent was set up at a distance from the others, sheltered in the shade of the cliff they had camped beside. Her tent would have not only privacy, but protection - anyone attacking them would have to go through the other tents first to get to hers. She made a mental note to thank Leliana later.

"Just follow my lead, my love."

It was a good thing that despite her protests, their small group had somehow procured her a large tent because she was their leader, she decided. She had never before appreciated just how truly large a six-and-a-half foot tall man in full plate armour was. He'd left his massive greaves, gloves, and helmet outside, but he still couldn't stand straight, and took up a large portion of the tidy tent. She was also glad for the arcane lamps they had purchased at the Circle tower; if they'd relied on open flame for light in the tent, they'd surely have a fire the first time he waved an arm. He stood slightly stooped, arms tucked in, glancing around at her tent. She couldn't fail to notice how his eyes kept returning to her sleeping pallet, and she realized it had been added to, somehow, to make room for two. Another thing to thank Leliana for, Elyssa guessed.

Her hands were shaking, but she realized that the first step was going to have to be hers, given his inexperience. She stepped up to him and leaned up to kiss him, which was made awkward by the clunky armour he still wore. She sighed.

"We need to get this armour off, Alistair." He nodded, and indicated the strap release that would allow the massive chest plate to come off. Everyone in any army was familiar with this procedure - plate armour was not exactly a single-person job. However, Elyssa had never performed this particular task for Alistair, and it seemed strangely intimate. Elyssa knew he wore a thinner, lighter set of leather garments underneath to protect him from the pointiness of the armour she had already discovered. They worked together to free him from his metal prison, and soon he was much less encumbered. Before she could think about it too much and lose her courage, she stepped close and tilted her face up to be kissed. It took her by surprise how different the kiss felt, when he could truly wrap his arms around her and she could melt into his embrace. The kiss quickly became heated, and they were both breathless and red-faced when they came up for air.

"He really is a large man," Elyssa thought to herself. She had never seen him fully without his armour, and had always assumed that a lot of his bulk was the platemail. But through the much thinner leather jerkin, it was apparent that Alistair, while not carrying any extra weight, was very much a giant-sized man. She felt tiny in his arms, and it was a novel feeling; in her world, she was quite tall for a woman and often felt awkward, especially when towering over some of the suitors that came to call at the castle she grew up in. It was a new experience to feel petite, and while she'd never have admitted it, she secretly reveled in the feeling.

Taking a deep breath, and refusing to make eye contact, Elyssa pushed away from Alistair and began unlacing the straps on one of her bracers. He saw what she was doing, and immediately grabbed her hands, stopping them.

"I may not be as experienced as Zevran, but I'm fairly certain this part is my job," he said. He gestured to Elyssa to sit on the edge of her sleeping pallet, still holding her hands, and he knelt down in front of her. Letting go of one hand, he began methodically unlacing the straps on her bracer. Trying not to let her shaking show, Elyssa bit her lower lip and clenched her other hand. As her bracer finally came free, Alistair kissed the inside of her forearm lightly before letting go and repeating the process on the other side. She had left her boots outside as well, so next he unlaced her shoulder armour and it fell away as a piece, exposing the elaborate straps holding her leather chest armour together. Leather armour is surprisingly protective due to the multiple layers of overlapping leather plates, but is not intuitive to put on or remove, if unfamiliar with the particular armourer's method. Elyssa gestured to Alistair to show him where to start, and after a sweet, gentle kiss, he began.

"You know I grew up in the Chantry. And like I said - I've never done anything like this before. But before I went to the chantry, I was a child in Redcliffe Castle. My mother was a servant there, and as you know, the Arl took me in when she died. My mother had a close friend, an older lady who took care of me as an infant and raised me until I was sent to the Chantry. She was a little, well, eccentric is a good word for her. When I was eight or nine, she took me aside and told me that one day, when I was a man, I'd need a particular skill and she was going to make sure I had it. She took me to her rooms, and there I found a dressmaker's dummy, wearing one of the Arlessa's fine ball gowns that had been torn at their last dinner party. At first, I thought she expected me to try mending it or some such, and was about to protest loudly the unmanliness of the task, but she hushed me and proceeded to show me how to remove the dress, and then put it back on. She made me practice it dozens of times, until I was well familiar with the laces and stays, able to undo them without thinking and aid a 'lady' in putting them back on. I didn't understand it at the time, but in looking back I realized this was her eccentric version of the "birds and bees" talk. Why she thought it appropriate at age eight, I don't know."

Alistair grinned at Elyssa, his eyes twinkling.

"I have to say, that in my head when I dreamed of this day, I never expected to apply those skills to a suit of armour instead of a fancy gown."

Elyssa giggled, and the last few layers of leather flexed, drawing a look of appreciation from Alistair as the molded outline of her breasts heaved enticingly. Elyssa giggled again.

"How do you even manage to fight in combat with Morrigan around?" Elyssa teasingly caressed her own breast through the tight leather.

"Who?" Alistair stopped and pressed his lips against hers, demanding she open her mouth and teasing her tongue with his own. After an eternity, he broke away, leaving her reeling.

"I'll give armour this much, though - it definitely helps to build anticipation."

She laughed again, and helped him finish removing it. She had just a thin shift on underneath, and it was damp with sweat, enticing him with glimpses of the soft curves underneath. Steeling himself against the desire to press his face into her bosom, he steadfastly turned his gaze back to meet her eyes. She reached up to loose her hair, but he grabbed her hand. "May I?" She nodded, and guided his hand to the long, elaborate pin holding her auburn hair in the sophisticated knot she always wore. Her hair tumbled down over his hand; the complicated hairdo had concealed the luxurious waves of gorgeous red which fell almost to her waist.

He ran his hands through the silken mass, marveling in the soft tresses, becoming even more aroused as locks of hair curled down her front, simultaneously hiding and revealing the breasts below them.

"I had no idea your hair was so long! And how do you keep it smelling of roses, out here in the wilderness?" She smiled, but did not offer her secret. "By the light, I couldn't have imagined you even more beautiful than you seemed earlier, but here you are. I wish I had another word for it, but I don't. You are so beautiful, Elyssa. I love you, probably more than I should. I know I don't deserve you, but I hope you know that I will do everything in my power to bring you happiness and joy."

"I love you too, my sweet giant. I cannot say how grateful I am that you love me also, and your words are dear to me." She paused. "Now enough conversation, don't you think? You still have work to do."

Alistair looked down to where she was gesturing, and groaned as he saw her leather pants.

"More blasted laces! Andraste herself wouldn't have been this difficult to undress." He impatiently began undoing laces, not even protesting when Elyssa began to help on the opposite side. Finally finished, Alistair gently pulled and Elyssa lifted her hips to slide out of the thick pants. Alistair's eyes widened and his mouth went dry as he saw the lengths of pale, smooth skin slide past.

"Close your mouth, love."

"Wha ... I'm sorry, what?" He looked up from her long, toned legs, and she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at him.

"Your mouth. Close it, before you catch flies."

"Right. I'll work on that."

"Come up here and kiss me, you big lug."

"Your desire is my command, my dear." After a few eternities locked in his embrace, Elyssa gently pushed Alistair away, sliding down off the sleeping pallet to be beside him on the floor. He was too distracted by tantalizing glances of her legs, and the curve of her hip and breast pressing against the fabric of her shift, to think to ask what she was doing.

"Alright. My turn. Sit here." Elyssa reached out to prod Alistair onto the spot she had vacated on the sleeping pallet, but he resisted, instead rising from his knees and standing up, then offering her his hand to assist her back onto the sleeping pallet.

"You know, there are definitely some advantages to being a man."

"Oh, like what? And don't say peeing standing up."

"That too! But no, that's not what I was going to say. The particular advantage I had in mind, is no pesky curves." As he was speaking, he lifted his arms and slid out of the leather jerkin, then, grasping his pants at the waist, slid them down in one smooth move. He was left with just a breechcloth, and it was Elyssa's turn to have her mouth dry out at the sight of the almost naked, toned body of the gentle Templar. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, and Alistair blushed.

"And here I thought you liked my 'pesky curves'! Would you prefer to go spend the night in Zevran's tent?"

"Oh, I love your pesky curves. I'm just glad I don't have to do up all those blasted laces every day!"

"Why do you think I usually sleep in my armour? Well, you're helping tomorrow, sir. You just undid them all, you can have the decency to help do them back up!"

"Yes, Mistress. Whatever you say, Mistress." They both grinned at the familiar joke. The leader of a group of Grey Wardens was called a Master Warden, and since she was the current leader of Ferelden's surviving Grey Wardens - all two of them - he had decided that made her a Mistress.

Elyssa slid over on the pallet, reclining back and leveling a seductive gaze at Alistair. She crossed her legs, in a move clearly calculated to tantalize but not reveal; it had the benefit of distracting Alistair's attention from her shaking hands and quavering voice. "Well? Are you going to join me? Or shall I just get started on my own?" She patted the space beside her.

He approached the pallet slowly, watching her face, suddenly nervous that this was all a joke and that she would send him away. She smiled encouragingly, and reached up to take his hands as he sank to his knees beside her. She pulled him down to lay beside her, and he settled onto his side so he faced her. He propped himself up on one elbow, and she continued to hold his other hand, her fingers tracing the creases and scars gently.

"So..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat and tried again. "So, um, what now?"

"Alistair. Tell me something. Do you believe that I love you? Really believe it?"

"I ... I can't imagine why, and it stretches my ability to imagine it, but ... yes. I think I do."

"Then let's just stop talking for a while, okay? And see where this goes without over-thinking it."

She reached up one hand to stroke his cheek, and he caught it and held it in place, nodding agreement. She moved his hand to her waist, then tangled her own into his hair and pulled him, firmly, down to kiss her. It started with a light brushing of their lips, but he returned, more sure of himself, to capture her lips with his own. Soon he felt her lips part, and his tongue darted out to test the waters, brushing against her lip and gently probing. Hers returned the favour and suddenly what had been a gentle kiss became much more intense, almost savage. Elyssa felt Alistair lean over her, pressing her against the bed as her tongue dueled with his. His leg fell across her hip, and Elyssa slightly parted her thighs to accommodate his between hers. His hands stayed firmly in place, one in her long hair, one settled softly on her waist, but hers began to explore. Hesitantly at first, but then gaining in confidence, she stroked down Alistair's cheek, to gently brush over the curve of his ear, which triggered a soft growl in the back of his throat. She repeated that move, confirming the reaction, then proceeded down to his neck, which elicited a quick intake of breath and increased the intensity of the kiss even further. She explored down over the rise of his collarbone, and the slight depression underneath, then down over the smooth hardness of his chest. He groaned and pulled out of the kiss, leaning down to pant in Elyssa's ear.

"I cannot ... mmm ... concentrate ... with you doing that!" He gasped as her hand brushed over his nipple. She turned her head, and without stopping the exploring of her hands, lightly licked his earlobe. Getting the groaning reaction she expected, she briefly sucked his earlobe into her mouth at the same time as she circled a tickling finger around his nipple again, and he writhed in response.

"All's fair in love and war," she whispered. "In case you weren't certain, this is the love part. Love me, Alistair. Dare to touch me. Distract me, if you can, and I'll stop!" The last was said with an audible smirk, and accompanied by another gentle flick to his nipple, which had condensed into a tiny, hard ball of quivering nerve endings. He moaned, burying his face in the cascade of fiery hair that

spilled across the pillow, trying to collect his thoughts and slow his racing breaths. Her hands kept moving, flustering him, and eventually with a soft roar he grabbed her wrists and pulled both of them up above her head where he trapped both with one of his massive hands. She briefly struggled, testing his hold, and then settled down to wait and see what he would do.

Alistair didn't waste any time, stroking her cheek with his unoccupied hand, then while holding her in place, planting light teasing kisses on her forehead, her eyelids, cheeks, chin, and even nose. She tried to capture his lips, but he pulled back after the lightest contact and she sighed.

"My turn. And I'm not going to let you cheat and get me distracted again. No more talking for you, either, unless you want me to find a way to silence you." Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and she nodded acquiescence. He kissed her then, and she lay helpless, desperately kissing him back and trying to convey her love through just her lips. His giant hand very gently gripped her chin and he turned her head away, exposing a long length of bare neck and her tiny, delicate ear. He planted kisses alongside the line of her jaw, and then subjected her ear to the same delicious torture that she had inflicted upon his. Between delightful kisses, he murmured endearments in her ear, and was rewarded by her wriggling underneath him. He was reminded again of his naked thigh, pressed between her two equally unclothed legs, and she noted a surge in his manhood, which she could feel, hot against her hip.

Returning to his task, he left her ear and began slowly kissing and licking his way down her long neck. On an impulse, he gently nipped at her with his teeth and heard her cry out softly. He looked up to see her biting her lip, with the hint of tears visible in her eyes.

"Oh, my love, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry." She shook her head no vigorously, tilting her head again to offer him her neck. "No? Oh. Oh! You liked that." She nodded enthusiastically, baring her neck again. "Good to know." She growled in frustration as he returned to gentle kisses, then bucked beneath him when he suddenly bit her again.