WOW Challenge #5: Lying
Admittedly inspired by this rather FML day :(
Pairing: Alistair/PC, implied Alistair/Morrigan & PC/Zevran
Words: 765
Summary: The morning after Morrigan's ritual...
Pulling shut the door, she stepped into the hallway, sagging back against the cool stone of the wall. She didn’t see how it was possible, didn’t see how her stomach could be lined with ice one moment and burning with bile the next. For those few dark hours it had fallen still, the sinking dread almost forgotten, but now it returned in force, weighed heavy with added guilt. By the lightening sky outside the windows, it was nearly dawn. Perhaps she had lingered too long already. Perhaps she was already discovered. The thought brought something almost like… relief.
She moved quick, wrapping her tunic close as she slipped along the Arl’s halls. There had been no point in lacing it; any who saw her now would have no doubt as to where she had been. The room that she shared with Alistair was at the opposite end of the castle.
But she reached it soon enough, mercifully undiscovered, carefully shutting the door behind her. Still the bed was made, the blankets neat and unwrinkled. Maker, he had spent the night.
One hand strayed to her stomach, the other clamping hard against her mouth. Again the wave took her, dread overtaking the guilt. Her mind spun, the images coming unbidden. All night. And deep it stirred, the knowledge, that burning certainty. It was all her fault. Because she had told him it would be alright. Because she had lied.
He found her like that, staring still at their empty bed, the muffled click of the door spinning her round. Alistair looked as surprised as she, eyes widening despite his scowl. He hesitated, hand outstretched, but whether it was meant to comfort or ward her off, she could not say. Blinking down at it, she took a step back.
“What are-?” His eyes roamed, taking in her clothes, straying to the unturned bed.
“-I was… coming to look for you.” Another lie. The guilt had won out, it seemed. “Where… where were you?”
She felt the cold slip lower, settling deep in her thighs as he turned his face away. “I… fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep.”
His eyes snapped back to hers. “I was tired.”
“Right. Of course.” Back she moved, staggering toward the bed, one hand bracing against the coverlet. She could feel it surge in her throat, boiling again, but still she could not stop the words. “How… how was it?”
“How was it?” He seemed to sag as he made his way into the room, glancing back toward the door with a bitter snort.
“I mean was it… successful?”
Still he wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah. Yeah, it was successful.”
“So it must have been at least a little… I mean, you two… and she’s… attractive…”
“Hey.” Alistair straightened, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his arms. She almost didn’t notice the stiffness, see his eyes harden with new memory. “It’s not… it’s not even…”
Could he feel it? She found herself breathing deep, eyes pinching shut as she inhaled. Could he smell it? She couldn’t smell anything, didn’t know what she had expected to find. But why then did he seem to be struggling to remember how to hold her? Why was she surprised at the thickness of those arms?
Alistair cupped her chin, raising her eyes to his. She winced. Not hours ago, another’s fingers had lingered there, the trail of his touch cross her cheeks seeming to flare accusing.
“Don’t…” He bent his lips to hers, her teeth snapping shut lest he taste him there.
When he pulled away, her breath caught. “You slept with her.”
“Only because you told me to.”
His eyes were too wide. No lie there, but not yet the truth. She shook her head. “You slept beside her.”
“I was tired.”
“You were… comfortable.”
“No, I wasn’t… I…”
Pressing her face against him, she felt her chest heave. “Tell me it was horrible.”
“What?” He stroked her hair, breathing deep, the sigh hitching as he hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“Of course it was horrible. The worst thing ever. I hated every minute of it.”
She chuckled, tasting again that strange and heady musk. “It that’s true, then one of us is dead.”
Alistair slid cross the blankets, pulling her with him, drawing her down amongst the pillows. “I’m… sorry.”
She smiled, small and tired, but a smile still. “No, you’re not. Not if it means we’ll both live through this.” Running fingers through his hair, she pulled him close. Laying a kiss upon his forehead, she lied. “It will be alright.”
Pairing: Alistair/PC, implied Alistair/Morrigan & PC/Zevran
Words: 765
Summary: The morning after Morrigan's ritual...
Pulling shut the door, she stepped into the hallway, sagging back against the cool stone of the wall. She didn’t see how it was possible, didn’t see how her stomach could be lined with ice one moment and burning with bile the next. For those few dark hours it had fallen still, the sinking dread almost forgotten, but now it returned in force, weighed heavy with added guilt. By the lightening sky outside the windows, it was nearly dawn. Perhaps she had lingered too long already. Perhaps she was already discovered. The thought brought something almost like… relief.
She moved quick, wrapping her tunic close as she slipped along the Arl’s halls. There had been no point in lacing it; any who saw her now would have no doubt as to where she had been. The room that she shared with Alistair was at the opposite end of the castle.
But she reached it soon enough, mercifully undiscovered, carefully shutting the door behind her. Still the bed was made, the blankets neat and unwrinkled. Maker, he had spent the night.
One hand strayed to her stomach, the other clamping hard against her mouth. Again the wave took her, dread overtaking the guilt. Her mind spun, the images coming unbidden. All night. And deep it stirred, the knowledge, that burning certainty. It was all her fault. Because she had told him it would be alright. Because she had lied.
He found her like that, staring still at their empty bed, the muffled click of the door spinning her round. Alistair looked as surprised as she, eyes widening despite his scowl. He hesitated, hand outstretched, but whether it was meant to comfort or ward her off, she could not say. Blinking down at it, she took a step back.
“What are-?” His eyes roamed, taking in her clothes, straying to the unturned bed.
“-I was… coming to look for you.” Another lie. The guilt had won out, it seemed. “Where… where were you?”
She felt the cold slip lower, settling deep in her thighs as he turned his face away. “I… fell asleep.”
“You fell asleep.”
His eyes snapped back to hers. “I was tired.”
“Right. Of course.” Back she moved, staggering toward the bed, one hand bracing against the coverlet. She could feel it surge in her throat, boiling again, but still she could not stop the words. “How… how was it?”
“How was it?” He seemed to sag as he made his way into the room, glancing back toward the door with a bitter snort.
“I mean was it… successful?”
Still he wouldn’t look at her. “Yeah. Yeah, it was successful.”
“So it must have been at least a little… I mean, you two… and she’s… attractive…”
“Hey.” Alistair straightened, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his arms. She almost didn’t notice the stiffness, see his eyes harden with new memory. “It’s not… it’s not even…”
Could he feel it? She found herself breathing deep, eyes pinching shut as she inhaled. Could he smell it? She couldn’t smell anything, didn’t know what she had expected to find. But why then did he seem to be struggling to remember how to hold her? Why was she surprised at the thickness of those arms?
Alistair cupped her chin, raising her eyes to his. She winced. Not hours ago, another’s fingers had lingered there, the trail of his touch cross her cheeks seeming to flare accusing.
“Don’t…” He bent his lips to hers, her teeth snapping shut lest he taste him there.
When he pulled away, her breath caught. “You slept with her.”
“Only because you told me to.”
His eyes were too wide. No lie there, but not yet the truth. She shook her head. “You slept beside her.”
“I was tired.”
“You were… comfortable.”
“No, I wasn’t… I…”
Pressing her face against him, she felt her chest heave. “Tell me it was horrible.”
“What?” He stroked her hair, breathing deep, the sigh hitching as he hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“Of course it was horrible. The worst thing ever. I hated every minute of it.”
She chuckled, tasting again that strange and heady musk. “It that’s true, then one of us is dead.”
Alistair slid cross the blankets, pulling her with him, drawing her down amongst the pillows. “I’m… sorry.”
She smiled, small and tired, but a smile still. “No, you’re not. Not if it means we’ll both live through this.” Running fingers through his hair, she pulled him close. Laying a kiss upon his forehead, she lied. “It will be alright.”