Chapter 43: Best Laid Plans

"So, I had something to ask you." His tone was strange, but I couldn't place it.

I stepped across the room, gathering up the pile of clothes I'd left at the foot of the bed when I'd unpacked earlier. "Keep talking. I'm going to change my clothes. Why don't you change out here?"

I ducked into the curtained area, forcing myself to take a deep breath to calm my nerves. As if spending my first night in a bed with a man wasn't enough to make me anxious, the plans I'd hatched with Leliana left me almost hyperventilating. I need to focus. Changing took me only seconds. I planned to spend however long it took Alistair to change trying fervently not to pass out.

"So, you were saying? You had a question for me?"

"Well, sort of. I ... Hmm. How do I say this? You'd think it would be easier, but every time I'm around you I feel as if my head's about to explode. I can't think straight!"

I froze in the middle of running my fingers through my hair nervously. It couldn't be.

"I don't know whether to be offended or flattered, Alistair." My voice was wavering, my nerves showing through, and I hoped he wouldn't notice.

There was a strange hitch in his voice too. "I ... uh ... please don't be offended. It's definitely a compliment. Here's the thing. Being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not ever. Maybe this is too fast – I don't know – but I know what I feel. I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place ... but when will it be perfect? If everything were perfect, we never would have met."

It couldn't be, but it is. Maker, but we have ridiculous timing. I was briefly proud of myself for thinking in Fereldan curse words. I stepped out from behind the curtain. He was wearing only his soft sleep trousers, as I knew he would be. My plan was always to catch him off guard and half dressed, but when I had imagined it, he wasn't propositioning me at the same time. The realisation that he wanted me – really, really wanted me – sent tendrils of heat racing up and down my spine.

Alistair's back was to me, his skin practically glowing in the candlelight, his glorious muscles shifting as he searched through his pack. I knew what he was looking for, knew he wouldn't find it.

I cleared my throat, interrupting him as he opened his mouth to continue. "Are you looking for something, love?"

He jumped a little, but didn't turn around. "Huh? Oh. Yeah, my tunic. I swear I had put it on the bed, but I can't find it anywhere. Have you seen it?"

"This tunic?"

As he turned, I held out my arms, waiting. My gaze was glued to his face, and I couldn't breathe. When he caught sight of me, he froze, staring, his mouth slightly open.

I was wearing nothing but his sleeping tunic, the last piece of relatively clean laundry he had kept out when we sent our clothes to be washed. It was off-white, though I guessed it probably started out actually white. It was enormous on me – it hung down past mid-thigh, could have wrapped around me twice if I'd cut the seam, and it smelled of him. From his vantage point, with the candle behind me, I was sure he could see the outline of my body through the well-worn fabric. One shoulder protruded through the neck of the garment, peeking out through the mass of my hair which was down, for once, still curly after my bath earlier.

I was feeling self-conscious and afraid, and I had to actively think about breathing, drawing slow breaths in through my mouth, trying not to faint. I was debating what to say – try to break the ice? Try to pull off the seductress act? – and completely blanked. I might as well have been mute. When Alistair didn't speak for a while either, I dropped my eyes, looking away and biting my lip anxiously.

Maybe he doesn't want this. Maybe I misunderstood, heard what I wanted to. I was having a panic attack. All of a sudden I knew. In the game, Alistair only ever fell in love with a female Grey Warden. And what was I? A stupid, helpless, useless girl. I had been fooling myself.

I heard quick steps, and then Alistair was there, his gentle hands on my face, lifting to look him straight in the eye as he hunched over to be closer to my height.

"Hey, hey. Sierra. Come back to me. Stop thinking about that guy. It's just me."

I was completely confused. I'd expected him to either touch me, or to reject me ... not to ask me about some other guy. "What? What guy?"

"That other Alistair. The one from your performance. I'm not that guy, okay? I'm right here. The one who makes an ass out of himself at every opportunity. Pricks his thumb on the thorn of a romantic gesture. Who's loved you since the day we met." He straightened, his expression frustrated. "I'm not that other guy who doesn't know you. I can always tell when you're thinking about him. You go all distant, and I can see you're a million miles away. And it's always when you're feeling insecure about us. You think about him, expecting a certain response because it's how he would respond. But I'm not that guy! I'm real. I'm right here. I love you. I just ... I need you to stay here, with me. I'm sure the reality doesn't measure up to what you expected, but I need you, Sierra. Please."

I had tears in my eyes by the time he was done. He knows me so well! How did that happen? Because he was exactly right. My Alistair wasn't the game Alistair. Things had changed. I had changed them, for better or for worse. And this Alistair ... he deserved more than constantly being compared to someone who didn't really exist. He'd been living in a shadow, a shadow of my own making, and it was a shadow that made me insecure and keep trying to push him away. From the first moment we met, I was hiding behind that shadow. I squared my shoulders, resolving not to do it again. This was my Alistair. I would take him at face value, not assume he'd suddenly become the shadow. I would take my life back and make it what I wanted, what I always feared I'd never have, and I wouldn't let the fear get in my way.

"You have to understand." I swallowed nervously, and continued. "This was hard for me." I turned, unable to look into his eyes for this. "I loved him before you and I even met. Or, I suppose, I would have, had I known he was real. I was lonely, and he was ... perfect, in a word. But fairy tales don't come true, you know. I spent twenty-four years learning that the hard way. So when I met you ... I knew it couldn't be real. It was just a fantasy, and one that would get me hurt. It wasn't real. It couldn't be."

I turned back, taking his hands and replacing them on my cheeks before covering them with my own, smiling softly. I went up on tip toes, leaning in to kiss his lips lightly. "You're right about me. I'm sorry. I've been so afraid of him, of what it would mean to be with him ... I didn't see that I'm not. I'm with you. But you're wrong about something." I kissed his cheek gently, leaning in further. "The reality is so, so much better. Better than I ever imagined. I love you, Alistair Theirin. You. Not him. I'm sorry I didn't see it until now."

I rubbed his nose with my own, and he smiled. He really is my own personal sunshine. When he was happy, everything was right with the world. Suddenly I didn't care – not about what anyone else thought, not about what would happen in the future; not even about whether we were about to have sex. As long as I could be with him, I'd take what I could get and be thankful for every second of it. And I knew – my Alistair loved me. Wanted me. And I wanted to hear what he had to say next, instead of fearing it.

I prompted him. "I interrupted you, earlier. You were asking me something."

"I was?" He'd gotten entirely distracted, which had been the point, though it didn't turn out the way I had planned.

I giggled. "Yes. You started by telling me I make your head explode. Then you told me something about how the timing isn't perfect. I was hoping you might finish that line of thought, or was that all? I make you crazy, and it's not perfect?"

He flushed, dropping his hands in embarrassment, though I held on to them so he couldn't get away. His smile faded a bit. " ... Oh. Right. That. Um." He gulped, nervous, and examined my face for a long, serious moment. I saw an echo of my own fear of rejection, and watched him over-ride it. His smile returned, a smirk really, as his gaze travelled from my face, down over my scantily-clad torso and my bare legs, then back to my face. "I think you know where I was going with that."

I grinned, face flushing under the smug scrutiny. "I know where he would have been going with that. You, I can't be sure."

His eyes twinkled and his grin widened. "What's that the Orlesians say? Touché." I giggled. "I deserved that. So allow me to pick up where I left off. You do make me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not ever. Watching you downstairs, when that man grabbed you ... and having Isabela leering at me like that made me realise. You know I've never," he licked his lips, nervous again, "done anything like this before. But ... Maker's breath. I love you. More than I thought possible. Anytime anyone else even looks at you I want to run them through with my sword. I can't wait, hoping against hope no one will steal you out from under me. But even if I lose you tomorrow ... I want to be with you. Here. Tonight."

I watched his face closely. Nervousness, undoubtedly, but no hesitation. No reluctance. "Are you sure?" I smiled softly and touched his cheek, the way I had the first time he'd told me he loved me. "Because I'm not strong enough to say no."