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Alistair didn’t know how much he would yearn for a simple touch. How much he had been yearning all his life without noticing. He never had the opportunity to learn the meaning of touch, the simple, soft comfort it could bring, the quiet brilliance of it, the soft-spoken promise of I’m here for you.
It all changed after the night he spent with her.
He finds that he constantly wants to touch her, to give her that promise I’m here for you and get the same in return. He loves the warmth of her skin, the realness of it, the solid, irrefutable evidence that this is all real, that he is in love with this woman and she with him. He seeks to be close to her almost on an instinct, to relearn her shape each time his fingers brush hers, to explore and express.
He is so deep in this bliss that he doesn’t even notice that something is wrong in the first few days. When he does, he is overcome with guilt and worry.
It’s little things. When his hand reaches for hers, she quickly finds a reason to pull away. She sits a few inches further from him as they eat and seeks the company of Leliana when they walk down the Imperial Highway. Her gaze wanders away from his as she speaks. Just a couple of days ago she told him she loved him as if it had been the only truth in this world; now she won’t even look him in the eye. He doesn’t know what happened, he doesn’t understand what he did wrong, and worst of all he has no idea how to fix it.
“You should talk to her.”
He physically startles at the sudden voice behind him.
“You shouldn’t just sneak up on people like this,” he says with all the disapproval he can muster and turns to look at Leliana.
“I did no such thing. The way you were standing there, the entire Horde could have danced around you, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”
She does have a point, he has to admit. He doesn’t remember when it got this dark, for one.
“Well, I was… thinking,” he says, rubbing his neck. “What were you saying?” he asks quickly before the inevitable jab that usually follows that statement.
“You should talk to her.”
“To who?”
The bard gives him a look so pointed that it pierces right through the darkness of the night. “She is by the river. I told her to wash her face.”
His eyes widen. “Wash her… Was she…?”
“You should talk to her,” she repeats.
“Yes, I already heard that!” he snaps at her perhaps a bit more forcefully than he intended. He continues in a softer tone, his desperation seeping into his words, “Leliana, you know what’s going on, right? Please…”
“It’s not my place to tell you. Go to her and listen to her. She needs you right now.”
“Me? But she won’t even–”
“She will. Now go. And, Alistair… Be mindful of what you say, once she confides in you.” The bard’s words are soft, but he can hear the silent threat behind them. It does nothing to make him any more confident. He gives Leliana one last uncertain look, but she isn’t looking at him anymore.
He takes a deep breath and makes his way over to the river. As if it were afraid to cross its waters, the forest doesn’t continue on its other side, allowing the full moons and the infinite stars to admire their faces in the rushing water. It scatters their light until it’s blinding to look at, and it’s in this halo of silver light that he finds her.
He stops a few paces behind her, and he is suddenly painfully aware that he has no idea how to start. He frantically searches his mind for anything to say, but then all words escape him when she turns around.
You are beautiful, he wants to say, but his body won’t obey.
“Alistair,” she says his name, and it’s enough to make his heart skip a beat. “I… Leliana sent you here, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” he manages to say and clears his throat before continuing, “she said… that I should… talk to you.” He takes a step forward but then stops. She doesn’t move, but her gaze flickers around uncertainly before it finds its way back to his face. She looks almost fragile in that moment. “If you want to,” he adds, not even trying to hide the hope in his voice.
For a few long seconds she doesn’t answer. He worries that he said something wrong or too much or too little.
“Yes,” she finally says, turning back to the water. “I made you worry,” she continues after a moment. “I’m sorry. I should have handled this better, but… I wasn’t sure how to talk to you about this. I’m still not.”
“You can tell me anything.” He takes another step. He is so close now that he could touch her just by reaching out his hand. He doesn’t.
“I didn’t want you to… I didn’t…” She is crying, he realizes, and it hits him like a punch to the chest.
“What’s wrong? Did I do something? I–”
She whips her head around, tear-filled gaze locking onto his. His heart feels like it wants to break to pieces with each beat.
“No! It’s me. It’s all my fault.”
“What do you mean? Talk to me, please! Let me help!” He finally crosses the remaining distance between them. He does not reach out to touch her, but he doesn’t need to. She throws herself at his chest as she begins to cry in earnest, loud sobs interrupting her words as she speaks.
“I love you. You are the only one I have ever loved. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” The words spill out of her as if she feared that they would be forever stuck in her heart if she didn’t speak them now. “I just didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You didn’t!” This time he doesn’t stumble on his words. “I love you too.”
Her sobs die down, and she raises her head to search his face, as if she was looking for the truth of his words in his eyes.
“I never understood why the others fancied people they never spoke to. Why they were so desperate to slip away into shadowy corners.” Her words are quiet as a confession, but she does not avert her eyes. She keeps her gaze firmly locked with his. “I didn’t mind my ignorance. I was always told I would understand when I met that special someone. And then I met you.
“You showed me things I never thought possible, but this... desire eluded me, even after the night we spent together, and I started to doubt myself. I thought that I didn’t love you enough, or that I loved you the wrong way.” He wants to object, to tell her that it’s impossible, that those fears could never be true, that she has already given him so much more then he deserves... But her next words silence his. “I was never told that this is normal!” she nearly shouts, and it almost sounds like a plea. “I was confused and afraid, and I pulled away from you in fear of hurting you when the truth got out. You did nothing wrong. It was all me.”
“That’s not true. I should have noticed sooner that something was wrong, and I should have acted when I did. We are in this together now. I will do better in the future, I promise.”
“You are not mad?”
“What? No! Never! I could never be mad at you. You are perfect.” The words slip past his lips before he even realizes that he started forming them. She lets out a small, startled and relieved laugh and it’s the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.
“I’m not!” she objects, and then her voice softens. “So you don’t mind? That I’m like this?”
“No, of course not! It doesn’t matter at all. I don’t care about you because of that. I care about you because of you, and I never want you to think otherwise.”
There are tears in her eyes again, but her lips are pulled into a smile. “I’m so lucky to have met you.”
“That’s my line,” he teases, and he has to swallow to stop himself from breaking down in tears as well. “I want this to work more than anything, so please tell me what you need.”
“I’m not sure... It’s all very new to me.”
“Then let’s figure it out. Together.”
She gives him a brilliant smile, and her hand finds his, fingers interlacing as if it was meant to be.
“Together,” she repeats.