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It had been quite the eventful week. First, they had found the Andraste’s Sacred Ashes, which, by the way, exist, though they were guarded by a crazy dragon-cult – oh, and there was the actual high dragon they’d fought as well. Then when they’d brought the ashes back to Redcliffe to heal Arl Eamon… they had worked. They really worked. It had been an actual honest-to-Andraste miracle.
But then the man hadn’t even been recovered an entire hour when Alistair had been reminded of one of the many reasons that their relationship was strained at best. With no input from Alistair whatsoever, Eamon had decided that the best thing for Ferelden would be if Alistair was crowned king .
Up until this moment, it had been made very clear to him that he was in no way in line for the throne. He was a bastard, and an unacknowledged bastard, at that. The only “proof” of his parentage was Eamon’s word and a striking resemblance to his late half-brother. Most of Redcliffe likely thought he was Eamon’s – and the arl had certainly never done anything to quell those rumors before now.
Then the conversion with Eamon had ended before it had even truly begun, and the party found themselves ushered to the guest wing, each with a room of their own. Alistair had lived in this castle for thirteen years, and he’d never actually slept in one of the rooms. He’d mostly slept in the kennels or the stable, depending on the season. So now, staying in a room with an actual bed and a tub and everything was… beyond weird.
He’d almost rather be in the kennels after all. At least you knew where you stood with mabari. Nobles didn’t show their teeth until you’d already been bitten.
He had been provided a change of clothes to go with his fancy room, and fairly nice ones, too. Doublet and trousers and all. He hadn’t been in anything but leathers or a loose pair of linen pants and a shirt for pottering around camp in years . He’d certainly never dressed as nicely as this. He kept fidgeting with the high collar, convinced it was only there to choke him.
There was a knock at the door, and Alistair bounded up from where he’d been sprawled across the – admittedly very comfortable, but still weird-feeling – bed. “Coming!”
When he opened it, Elissa was smirking at him. “Not without me, I hope.”
He would have quipped something back, but his head had emptied entirely because she’d been given new clothes, too. She was in a simple but elegant frock, tight around her bust and waist and flaring gently to a skirt that fell in soft folds around her legs all the way to her ankles. The neckline was certainly something, too. It was a wide square shape, low enough that he was fairly certain if she leaned over too quickly she’d be in danger of exposing herself – not that he would mind. What’s the opposite of mind?
“You’re lovely,” he blurted out.
Her smile softened some and she fidgeted with her fingers for a moment before she folded them in front of her stomach. He’d seen plenty of noblewomen do that – it seemed something they’d all had drilled into them at some point, but he’d never seen Elissa do it before. It was as if being in a dress had brought back the muscle memory. She was even standing straighter, not saucily leaning her weight on one hip like she usually did. The impish smirk was still the same, though. “Are you going to make me be lovely out in the hall, or may I come in?”
He scrambled to get out of the way, closing the door behind her. He noticed that the dress laced up the back, from her hips all the way to her neck. No wonder it fit so perfectly – though even if it hadn’t, she’d still have been lovely. Elissa was always lovely.
“You clean up nicely, too,” she said, giving him a deliberate once over.
He attempted to contain a gleeful grin for the sake of some not-so-witty repartee. “What, these old things?” he said, pretending to brush something off of his sleeve.
She stood close in front of him and raised her hands to smooth from his shoulders to his elbows, giving him a soft squeeze. “It suits you.”
He rolled his eyes with a scoff. “I appreciate the compliment, but it most certainly does not . I don’t know how, but it makes me feel like I’m stuffed into a sausage casing and entirely too naked at the same time.” He sighed longingly. “I miss my armor.”
“You can’t very well wear your armor to dinner tonight,” she teased.
“Are we doing that? Dinner?” he asked nervously. “In the dining hall?”
She tilted her head, dropping her hands. “Where else would it be?”
He fidgeted with his collar a bit, still unable to find a comfortable way to wear it. “I mean, that does make sense, I suppose. I’ve just… I’ve never eaten there before. I would get scraps from the scullery maids and eat outside, or in the kitchen if it was too cold.”
Something flickered over Elissa’s face for a moment before her usual easygoing smile came back. It was a bit too quick for him to catch, but some small part of him that he valiantly tried to ignore insisted it must be pity. Elissa had never looked down on him for not being raised a noble, but he could tell that sometimes she’d forget that he didn’t have a nice childhood like hers – not that he thought his was completely horrid. Plenty of people went through worse. He’d never gone to sleep hungry or been punished unfairly, and he did receive a quality education in the end, but it certainly wasn’t what someone of means would consider nice . He knew it wasn’t really pity that he saw in her eyes – that was just his own insecurity talking – but being reminded that he’d grown up with so little clearly bothered her.
She quickly pivoted away from the subject, and Alistair was glad to let her. “I’d ask you to give me a tour of the castle, but I think we’ve seen entirely too much of it already, what with all the undead-slaying a while back.”
“Agreed.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Maker, what a day. Eamon wants me to be king! Can you believe it? It’s utterly ridiculous!” Alistair chuckled, but Elissa’s face was thoughtful, concerned. “Isn’t it? Ridiculous?” he asked, suddenly apprehensive. She couldn’t agree with Eamon, surely?
“Alistair…” she reached for his arm, but he shrugged her off.
“No! No, you can’t possibly think that’s a good idea. I don’t know the first thing about being king! I don’t want it!” he protested.
Her eyes were sad, but her mouth was set firmly in a line, resigned. “There is no one else. Do you want Anora to remain on the throne, to let Loghain continue ruling Ferelden?”
He ground his teeth at the thought of that treasonous murderer controlling their homeland. “Of course not, but… but…” His ire dissolved and his face fell, defeated. “Maker, there isn’t anyone else. This is going to be a disaster.” He took a few steps to sit heavily on the side of the bed.
“Why do you say that? You would be a good king, maybe even a great one,” she insisted.
He loved Elissa madly, but she just didn’t seem to get it . “All my life, it was made perfectly clear to me that I am not part of the line of succession. Not even the remotest possibility. I haven’t been prepared for this at all. I don’t know anything about ruling or politics.” His tone turned scornful. “I couldn’t even take charge when it was just us and the dog.” He shook his head before burying his face in his hands. “I never wanted this. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“You have the most important qualities already.” She stepped to him and reached for him again, but this time he let her place a hand on his shoulder. “You are a good man, Alistair. You are fair and kind and honest.”
He flashed her a half-smile as he raised his head again, her faith in him bolstering him somewhat. “I’m afraid that won’t be nearly enough to rule a nation.” From what little he did know, those traits certainly weren’t requirements. In some cases, they even seemed to be disqualifiers.
“Not by itself, no,” she agreed. “But no king rules alone. He keeps people around him that he trusts, that can help him.”
“Yes, well,” he scoffed, “I don’t think a drunken, exiled dwarf will be much help in Denerim’s court.”
“No, but a Bard might be, or a Crow. Even an experienced Senior Enchanter. Perhaps an arl or a bann that you already have connections to.” She smirked. “Or someone from an influential Fereldan family, such as one that hails from Highever…”
He stared at her, slack-jawed. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that. It’s bad enough if I’m stuck in Denerim for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He attempted to side step the far too serious discussion. “You would hate it. There wouldn’t even be any ogres or dragons for you to vanquish.”
She, as always, saw through his ill-timed humor and made him face things anyway. She brought her hand up from his shoulder, gently stroking the side of his face. “My dear, sweet man. I would do anything for you. The least I can do is stand by your side and offer my support and counsel.”
“I… I don’t know what to say.” He placed his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb on the back of her fingers. “Thank you.” It wasn’t even remotely adequate, but it would have to do. He took a deep breath, straightening up slightly as he did. “You’d be a much better ruler than me, you know. You’ve already got the leadership thing down.”
“You may be starting on the back foot, but you’re not going to be a disaster.” She quirked a saucy brow, quickly bopping his nose with one finger. “I won’t let you.”
He laughed, reaching for her hips to pull her close. She stood between his knees, and he tipped his head back to look at her. “What would I ever do without you?” He said it with levity, but he really, truly didn’t know.
She grinned. “I’m sure you’d make quite the dashing cheesemonger.” Her expression sobered somewhat, and she brought both hands to his shoulders. “In all honesty, you would defeat the blight and become king. You wouldn’t shirk your responsibilities just because I wasn’t there.” She had an almost shy smile on her face, affection shining clearly from her eyes. “Your sense of duty is just one of the many reasons that I love you.” She leaned toward him, sliding her hands up to either side of his neck. “But I’m very glad to be here with you anyway.”
He reached one hand to her face, gently pulling her down further. “I’m glad, too.” Their lips finally met in a slow, tender kiss as his thumb massaged circles into her hip. She leaned her forehead against his when they parted again. “I hope I never find out what it’s like to live without you,” he said quietly. “I love you.”
She smiled, her face lighting up the way it always did when she heard it. “I love you, too.” She’d already said as much, but he wasn’t about to discourage her. She placed a hand over his heart, which he covered with his, and he mirrored the gesture on her. “I am yours, and you are mine.”
He grinned right back. “Always and forever.”
She twisted and sat on his knee, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leaning into his chest. “Feel better now?”
“Much.” He wrapped both arms around her waist and leaned his face down to her neck, brushing a few soft kisses there. “Your future king very much appreciates your fealty, my lady.”
She hummed, tilting her head to give him more room. “Perhaps an expression of my devotion to my rightful ruler is in order.”
“Perhaps,” he murmured under her ear, “in a moment.” He slowly ran his palm up her side, tracing her curves from her hip up to her ribs. He leaned back a little to look at her, letting his gaze linger on the expanse of exposed skin on her chest – technically there was nothing scandalous about how she was dressed, but he was still enthralled, sinful lout that he was. Her bosom rose and fell with every breath, making the top swell of her breasts even more enticing. Blessed Andraste, he might not be able to be out in public with her dressed like this.
He traced a finger along her neckline, starting by her shoulder and slowly descending. “I’ve never seen you in a dress before. You do look quite lovely.”
She smiled and mimed a curtsey with one arm. “Why thank you, Your Majesty.” A moment later she giggled, and he joined her.
“Maker, that will certainly take some getting used to.” He followed the edge of the embroidered trimming across for a few inches, tracing back and forth over one breast. “I’ll have to be careful not to let it go to my head.”
“I know how to knock you down a peg if I need to,” she teased.
He grinned, starting to kiss from the hollow of her throat downward on the other side of her chest. “Good. We don’t need a sovereign who’s too big for his britches.”
“Well, I don’t know if I can change that,” she laughed. “If anything, I might be the problem, there.”
He chuckled, palming one breast as he mouthed over the top of the other. She inhaled a quiet gasp, and it pressed her soft skin delightfully against his face. On somewhat closer inspection, and with a few experimental tugs at the neckline, he discovered that she was quite firmly trapped within the fabric. Pity, he’d been hoping she’d just sort of… spill out, dramatically, if possible. He was forced to move his other hand over her back to search for the end of the laces in order to free her from her very pretty prison. After a few long moments of fumbling, his patience wore out, and he raised his head to peer behind her. “Andraste’s knickerweasels, did you get sewn into this thing?”
She laughed, but took pity on him nonetheless. She pulled her hair out of the way and turned so that he could see better. “They’re tucked in at the top.”
It did take the use of both his hands, but he finally managed to get the ends free and untied, and with a few more pulls the dress loosened around her chest. He reached to turn her toward him again with his hands at her hips, but she did him one better. She pulled her skirt up to her knees and straddled his lap, following him as he scooted back on the bed a few inches. He raised his hands to the top edge of the dress again, and this time a firm tug let her breasts spill forth. Dramatically, he noted with satisfaction.
He met the sight with a toothy grin and a throaty hum. “Much better.” She held onto his shoulders as he cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her peaks, watching with no small amount of glee as she let her head fall back with a sigh. He kept his eyes on her as he took a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over it.
She moved one hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, winding her fingers into his hair, her nails lightly scraping over his scalp and sending a delightful tingle down his spine. “Oh, yes,” she sighed, and her voice sounding so very pleased sent a hot bolt of lust through him. He sucked roughly, his fingers giving the other peak a quick, firm tweak.
He chuckled against her skin at the gasping squeak she gave him as she clutched his hair, the light sting only spurring him on. She had started a slow writhe in his lap, and he let himself rock up into her whenever she pressed against his hardening cock. He took his mouth from her for a moment, pausing just long enough to moan, “Maker, you’re gorgeous,” before he switched to the other peak to suck and nip.
She was panting faster now, letting out soft cries with every exhale that were steadily gaining volume. “More,” she breathed, and really, how could he possibly deny her? He nibbled at the stiff bud in his mouth as his thumb and forefinger squeezed the other, and now she had her hips pressed tightly to the bulge in his trousers, moving with quick little rocks against him that must have been hitting just the right place, because he could hear how her breath shuddered and feel how her thighs trembled against his. He groaned loudly, not just because the pressure against him was absolutely maddening, but because she was so unbearably beautiful, so unfettered and wanton with her desire, and it was practically unbelievable that it was all for him.
The steady press and roll of her body came to a sudden standstill as she bowed, arching against him with a ragged gasp. He watched in amazement as she trembled, both of them hardly even breathing as he stilled as well, keeping pressure and suction on her in an attempt to prolong the cresting of her pleasure. She hitched in several far too shallow breaths, then she was in motion again, releasing a high sound that was nearly a sob as she yanked on his hair, snatching him away from her breast. He immediately let go of the other one as well, bringing his hands to her hips and gripping firmly with a quiet, pleased rumble in the back of his throat.
She slumped forward against him, arms around his neck as she caught his lips with hers and kissed him, a bit clumsily but certainly not for lack of enthusiasm. He slowly stroked his hands over her sides as his mouth returned her fervor, though the overall effect was certainly less efficient between his wide grin and her throaty laugh.
She pulled away from him with a low hum, slipping off of his lap to finish unlacing her dress. “I believe it’s your turn now,” she purred. “You should get that finery off.”
His fingers were immediately flying over the buttons of his doublet, shrugging it off as quickly as he could and yanking his shirt over his head. He caught a glimpse of her dress falling from her hips and her shift coming up over her shoulders before he turned his attention to the laces of his trousers while toeing off his shoes, and he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and divested himself of the rest of his clothes all at once with a brief lift of his hips from the bed.
Then he finally set his full attention on her again. She was in only her knickers, standing up from being bent over his pack with something in her hand. She smirked as she walked back to him, hips and breasts both swaying with the motion, and for a moment he couldn’t even decide where to look. All of her was just so lovely – her warm, sensual smile, her long, strong legs, and Maker, her breasts… He still had moments where he found it unbelievable that she had chosen him, and this was certainly one of them.
He sucked in a sharp breath as she dropped to her knees in front of him, and his cock throbbed in anticipation. “Get a bit closer to the edge,” she beckoned, and as he did she saw that she had the little vial of oil that he used on his armor. She uncorked it and drizzled a bit onto her chest, using both hands to spread it over her breasts, making them glisten. They looked so slippery . He wondered, if he reached out to grab them, would he even be able to hold on?
He bit his lip as he dutifully waited for whatever she had planned, entranced by the absolute vision in front of him. Elissa obviously had something specific in mind, and Void take him if he interrupted her. Every idea she had ever had for the two of them had been just splendiferous, transcendent, often life-changing, at least for him. He could only hope she thought they had all gone just as well, and he endeavored to be just as good to her at every possible opportunity.
But now, she reached one oily hand to his cock, and he groaned as she gave him a few strokes, spreading the slickness over him as well. “You had an idea a while ago,” she said, “and I think it’s about time we made it happen.”
It took a considerable amount of concentration, but he managed to croak out, “What would that be?” He was pretty impressed with himself that he had managed more than a needy whine – it was even a full sentence with proper grammar and everything. Truly a feat for the ages.
She took her hand back – he did whine at that, just a little – and grasped both of her breasts, getting right between his knees. “You wanted to fuck my tits.” Sweet, Blessed Andraste. His eyes went wide as she leaned forward and pressed her soft, slick mounds tightly around his cock, and his fingers clenched in the sheets while he gave her an involuntary thrust up into the absolutely maddening embrace.
“Oh, Maker,” he moaned, the sensation so different but still so good, still warm and slick and soft, and then she started to move, rocking forward and back. “Elissa, Love,” he sighed, staring rapt as the head of his cock poked out from the top of her cleavage. Had there ever been a more erotic sight in the history of all the Maker’s creation? He really, really didn’t think so.
He realized as his eyes flicked up to hers that she had been watching him, eyes dark and full of wonderful, illicit promises, but she glanced down for a moment and seemed to consider something. She met his eyes again and gave him that wicked smirk – the one that said she meant trouble and he would thoroughly enjoy every second of it – keeping his gaze as she bent her head down to take the tip of his cock into her mouth.
“Fuck,” he gasped, exhaling a long groan as she started to suck, her tongue lapping firmly underneath the head. The dual sensation of firm and wet against soft and slick nearly did him in immediately, but by Andraste he wanted this to last as long as he could manage. It was simply too good to let it be over that quickly. He reached one hand to the side of her neck, not pulling or trying to change her pace – he just needed another point of contact, some way to let his devotion show through his touch. He stroked his thumb under her ear as his head fell forward, chin to his chest, desperately trying to get enough air despite Elissa apparently doing her best to make that impossible.
He bit his lip with a grimace, grunting softly as his hips hitched along with her stroking. He muttered a curse under his breath and said, “Love, I’m – I’m coming, fuck! ”
He gripped the edge of the bed and her shoulder – probably too tightly but he’d apologize in a minute – because right now he was letting out a series of hoarse shouts as each jet of spend left him with a heavy throb, his eyes squeezed shut. He felt the warm suction on the head of his cock disappear almost immediately, which might have been disappointing if he could have managed any sort of thought, the intensity of his orgasm completely blanking out his brain until it was over.
He shuddered as it finished, blinking his eyes open again and still panting. She was still holding him nestled between her tits – a very nice touch, he thought somewhat deliriously – and it took him a moment to realize what he was looking at.
Sweet Maker, he had come all over her chest, even on her neck and her chin, and – he noticed with a small pang of guilt – a bit in her hair. She let go of her breasts and swiped across her skin with her fingers, sucking his spend from them with a happy little hum, and the sight of her, marked as his and so very pleased about it, made something snap inside him. He’d only just started to go soft a moment ago, and suddenly he was hard enough to drive nails again, filled with desperation, and he needed Elissa immediately .
He gripped her by the arms, standing and tugging her to her feet as well. “Get on the bed,” he growled, spinning them around, and the moment the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed she let herself fall onto it, quickly shimmying out of her smalls.
She was looking at him with an incredulous, unbelieving smile. “Again? Already?” He might have feigned offense if he wasn’t just as surprised and currently being driven by some savage instinct usually buried deep but now brought directly to the forefront. She spread her legs invitingly, and the beast inside of him snarled its approval through his throat. He grasped her hips to pull her to the edge of the bed, then hooked his arms under her knees and brought her ankles up over his shoulders.
“I’m not questioning it,” he rasped, holding her hip to keep her still as he lined himself up, thrusting into her with one hard stroke. She gasped with a little squeal, canting her hips up to meet him as he let out a loud moan.
He almost immediately started moving, hard, hammering thrusts as he held onto the tops of her thighs, using the grip for more leverage. Her calves flexed against his shoulders as she angled herself, and in moments she was being just as loud as he was. “Flames,” she swore, “oh, fuck, Alistair, you’re – that’s –” she let out a guttural groan, “so full… ” The words were full of a primal, distinctly feminine rapture, and it only served to stoke his hot-blooded fervor.
He grinned and let out a deep, rumbly growl, snapping his hips harder as her moans turned to shouts. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice a lusty basso. “That good?”
“Yes, yes,” she chanted with each thrust, and her hands scrabbled at the bed for something to hold onto, one eventually winding into her own hair as the other continued to claw at the sheets.
“Tell me, Sweetheart,” he demanded. Maker, she was so fucking tight like this, and he could already feel her tensing and throbbing around him. He was sure it wouldn’t be long for her, and it was certain that he’d be following right after.
She was gasping for breath, just managing to eke out the words with each thrust. “You’re so – so deep,” she cried, “so much, I – I –” Shit, he hadn’t really thought through what hearing her would do to him. He’d need to act fast if he was going to bring her over first.
She broke off with a sharp cry when he slipped one hand between her legs and down to her pearl, rubbing his thumb quickly over the swollen nub, and now she was wailing, babbling, “Yes, fuck me fuck me fuck me, you feel so good, fill me so well, oh, Maker, I’m, I’m – fuck, yes! ” The last was a relieved shout, followed quickly by his own roar as her cunt pulled his own release from him, urging him to grind into her with his cock hilted as deeply as he could. His voice trailed off into an almost inaudible rumble of satisfaction at how she still trembled under him, both of them utterly spent.
For several seconds, they were both still apart from their chests heaving for breath. As he regained his senses, Alistair turned his head to press his lips tenderly to her ankle, feeling a bit abashed after he’d let himself get carried away. Maker’s Breath, he’d been practically feral. It was a testament to Elissa’s perfection that she apparently loved it – if she hadn’t, he’d be crawling into a hole to die of guilt and mortification right about now, likely with several stab wounds.
She hummed a breathy laugh, letting her legs lie where he gently laid them as he leaned forward to give her a proper, soft, affectionate kiss. She held onto his neck and the back of his head with both hands until she was satisfied, letting her arms drop limply to the bed when she was done and not even bothering to open her eyes.
He straightened up and said with a sheepish smile, “You look, er, sticky. Let me get you a cloth.”
She just giggled, apparently incapable of speech as well as movement for now. He was rather proud of himself, all things considered. It wasn’t every day that she was the one left senseless. Not that it took particularly much for her to do that to him – usually she could manage it with a well timed smile. He really was well and truly smitten.
He gave himself a quick clean at the wash basin before he came back with a damp cloth for her. “Sorry if it’s a bit chilly.” He let it sit on her chest and neck for a moment so he wouldn’t have to scrub when he wiped her skin clean, attempting to be gentle after he’d treated her so roughly. They ought to have cleaned up before he debauched her – again, Maker preserve him – but at the time it had been the furthest thing from his mind. He also tried to get that one bit out of her hair, though he thought that might just be a lost cause. He hesitated for a moment and placed his hand on her belly, not wanting to startle her from her contentment. “May I, Love?”
She nodded with another little hum, and he gently wiped down the inside of her thighs and between her legs as well, flinging the cloth toward the basin when he was done. It landed somewhere on the floor over on that side of the room, but he’d worry about that later. For now, he lifted her legs to put her fully on the bed and crawled up to tuck himself against her side, one arm over her middle as he held her close.
He was nuzzling her hair and putting soft kisses on her brow when she eventually spoke again. “You will be a good king. I know you will.” She paused, meeting his eyes and biting her lower lip nervously. “And, if you want, I could be more than just an advisor.”
“Of course you’ll be more than that,” he said. “You already are.”
“Thank you, but I meant… a king needs a queen.” His pulse thundered in his ears, his mouth dropping open as he realized what she was really saying. She seemed to second guess herself, continuing on quickly. “I don’t know if I’m the most advantageous choice, or the most politically sound, but I can’t watch you marry someone else! I just can’t. You mean too much to me.”
He probably wasn’t helping her nerves by staring at her like an idiot, but he almost couldn’t believe it. “You want to marry me? Me? ” he squeaked. “But I’m – and, and you’re so…”
“You’re a wonderful, brave man who has always done his best to protect me and everyone else around him, and I’m so very desperately, madly in love with you,” she said, smiling softly as she raised a hand to his face. “Or were you going somewhere else with that?”
“I was, ” he admitted, “but I like your version better.” He brushed the backs of his fingers along hers on his face. “I could never marry anyone else. I just hadn’t dared to hope we ever would.” He suddenly sat up, leaning over the edge of the bed. “But if we’re going to do this, we’ll do it properly. I feel like I need trousers for this.” He stood to search for his lost clothes, found them with a triumphant “ha!” and quickly hopped into them.
“Alistair, what in the Void are you doing?” She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him scurry about with a mix of confusion and amusement.
“I suppose I can’t do this entirely properly, since I don’t have a ring,” he mumbled to himself. He turned back to her and took a deep breath. “Well, here goes.” He dropped to one knee and took one of her hands in his. Her eyes immediately went wide as she sucked in a gasp. “Elissa Willamette Cousland, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife, and one day, Maker willing, my queen?” Despite the fact that she had essentially proposed to him not a minute ago, his heart still hammered wildly.
“Yes, of course I will!” She grinned and tugged on his arm. “Now get up here and kiss me, you ridiculous man!” She rolled her eyes. “Really, you needed to put pants on and didn’t even toss me my shift?”
He laughed and rose to wrap his arms around her. “You, my dear, are a vision of ethereal feminine beauty. Flaccid man-bits, not so much.” He picked her up from the bed and spun in a quick circle as she squeezed him tightly. Without even putting her feet on the ground, he pressed his lips to hers. She squeezed him even tighter, like she was afraid he’d run away if she didn’t hang on. But there was not a single chance in the Void, the Fade, or all of Thedas that he’d ever leave her now.
She still hadn’t stopped smiling when he finally put her down again. “I knew telling you my middle name would come back to haunt me. If only you had one and it was just as awful.”
He frowned a little. “I think it’s nice. You said you were named after your grandfather. That’s lovely.”
“Well if he’d been named Maxwell or Aneirin or something I wouldn't find it so objectionable.” She smirked. “Maybe we should come up with one for you. Redcliffe is known for its lake, so how about Lachlan?”
He scrunched his face in disgust. “That’s awful.”
“That’s the point,” she reminded him. “If we’re going to share everything for the rest of our lives, then you should share in my misery.”
He thought for a moment, then smiled sadly. “If we’re going to go off of naming ourselves after someone else, then I’d want it to be Duncan.”
Just saying the man’s name still hurt, even though Alistair was no longer debilitated by his grief. He wondered if it would ever stop hurting to think about his late mentor.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I take it back. That would be a perfect name for you.” She sighed. “I’d make mine Eleanor. My mother was brave and fierce to the last.” Her voice quavered slightly, but she didn’t shed any tears. As far as he knew, she still hadn’t yet. When that day did come, he was certain it would be excruciating for both of them.
But they’d gotten a bit too maudlin for what should be a happy moment. “I’ll have something I can tell Oghren, now,” he offered, trying to break the mood. “He keeps asking what I do with your legs when we caboodle .”
She snorted softly, interrupting her mirth with a yawn. “We’ve got a few more hours until we’re expected for dinner. I think a nap is in order.”
They climbed back into bed together, Elissa tucked snugly against his side under the covers. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “Thank you.”
“For what?” She sounded half asleep already, and he really couldn’t blame her. It had been an incredibly full day, and it wasn’t even over yet.
“For staying with me. For wanting to be my wife.” He gave her a little squeeze. “For loving me.”
She smiled and gave him a squeeze around the ribs as well. “Always and forever.”
He grinned. “Always and forever.”