Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, Part 4: Permanently Frozen
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"Leave me alone, Zevran."
"Tsk! And here I am coming to sit by you and learn of your troubles!"
"I don't want to talk about it," Alistair grumbled, eyes darting quickly to Elissa, who was talking animatedly to Morrigan, hands flying through the air.
"Ah. I see. Well, I saw before, but I must say it has been entertaining observing your awkward advances and her ignorant parries."
The two of them watched the other pair across the fire, watched as Elissa managed to knock over her dinner, briefly hissing as it touched bare skin, but then seeming to decide it was less important than the climax of her story. Morrigan, for all her stoicism, seemed to be amused, though whether it was at the story or at her clumsy, over-exited sort-of friend, neither man could tell.
"I'm no good at this, you know. I was raised in the Chantry. It's not as though they take you aside and give you wooing lessons."
"Wooing 'lessons'? My darling knight, the only people who give 'lessons' in wooing are usually called 'madame'. The rest of us have had to learn the hard way, sorry to say," he clapped the other man on the back briefly before his gaze was caught observing their fair leader. "I will admit, however, that our illustrious leader is rather dense in her comprehension of such things. Even moreso than yourself."
"Oh, thanks."
"Anytime, friend. As it is, I think you're going to have to skip a few steps. I do not think she is as lacking in wits as our friend Bodhan's son, but she certainly seems to miss the subtler points of flirtation. You may have to make a bold move," he suggested the boldness with a clenched fist shaken in Alistair's face, as though it were a particularly good tactical suggestion.
"I don't know if I'm any good at bold moves."
"Tsk!" The assassin clicked his tongue at his comrade a second time. "Stop short-changing yourself. You will not know until you try, yes? The next time you can get her alone, choose your moment, my friend, and sweep her off her feet. Few misinterpretations could be taken from such a move, no?"
"And then what? I-" he held his hand up, trying to form his words. "I tend to fancy the girls with a bit more experience, as though it will make up for my own," he muttered.
"Ah, Alistair! One step at a time! Woo her with more than just innuendo, and worry about the ravishing later."
"Your innuendo seems to get through clearly enough."
"I am uniquely gifted, my friend," Zevran admitted, and Alistair rolled his eyes, standing up with his bowl.
"Right. Wooing first, and the proceed with the ravishing," he replied flatly, as though reciting a given order.
"You've got it, my friend," Zevran clapped him on the back again as he rose, and went to find Leliana. Oh the laughter they would share over this little episode!
Alistair proceeded to wash his bowl in the little stream, the cool water washing over his fingers and making him long for a proper hot bath. At least the water wasn't frigidly cold anymore, that was a plus. And he was starting to get a little ripe, he realized, smelling his tunic. With a sigh, he went back to camp, and rummaged through his pack. A sliver of soap, just as good for washing clothes as his body, a tunic and his other two pairs of smallclothes which also needed a scrub in hand, he went back to the stream's edge - fully intending on bathing and doing his laundry in one. He was just shy of patting himself on the back for thinking of such a merging of tasks.
His breeks were laid out on the rocks, and he had washed all his smallclothes and was working on a particularly unfortunate stain of darkspawn blood on his tunic when he heard her. He was thankful for the depth of the water and the darkness so that none might see the full extent of his undress.
"Oh, hello Alistair! Sorry to intrude. Nice breeze tonight, thought I might do a bit of laundry," she held up a wad of clothing and he tried not to think about her knickers.
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"Well, the only other spot is upstream, I wouldn't want to send all my icky darkspawn infested dirt down your way. Just give me a holler when you're through!" She turned to walk back into the woods.
"Elissa! No," she turned back towards him slightly, waiting for him to continue. "Wait, I won't be long, I promise. I even have some of the good soap left," he held up what was becoming quite a small sliver.
"Is it getting the darkspawn ick out?" She curled her lip and he peered at his shirt in the semi-dark. "Sort of?"
"Here, give it to me, let's give a go," she tromped over to the edge, rolled up her breeks to her knees, and waded out part way; close enough to reach for the soap, but on the edge of the deep pool that bestowed him with modesty to his navel.
He watched her; the way she dunked the tunic, freeing the other pieces from the bundle, which he snatched before they could float downstream. She seemed entirely ignorant of the fact that he had touched her smallclothes, simply taking them back with a distracted 'thanks' as she concentrated on scrubbing the stain. A determined frown came over her as she rolled up one sleeve.
"Must be a good scrubbing rock in this water," she murmured to herself and plunged herself up past the elbow, past where she had folded her tunic, and began rumaging through the rocks in the stream bed for one abrasive enough for her purposes. "Whoops, that was your knee there, I think, sorry," she said with a bit of embarrassment to her tone. "Just need a good, ooh!"
He had to wonder for a second if somehow Zevran had planned this whole charade. Somewhere, Zevran was laughing at him, and Elissa was mocking him - she couldn't possibly be as clueless as all this! She reached for her prize and lost her balance, and proceeded to fall forwards, into the water, her head about to jostle him rather intimately as she lost her footing and went full-bodied into the water. She let out a squeak of surprise, and he managed to catch her before she hurt herself seriously, but she was quite wet and they were posed most improperly - the water no longer coming to his navel the way he rested his foot on the ledge to hold her up.
"Um," even in the tree-filtered moonlight, he could see her blush rather darkly as she turned her gaze pointedly away from his exposed manhood.
"Ah, sorry," was all he managed to get out, trying to help her right herself without going down again amidst the slippery footholds while also attempting to cover himself as quickly as possible. Which he did, first with her tunic she had been scrubbing. They stood there awkwardly, and she pointed to him, to his private area, and he wanted to die - just close his eyes and disappear.
"I, um. My shirt," she gestured, and he suddenly realized it was hers he held and not his own.
"Oh! Right! Sorry!" he made sure he was covered by water and the nighttime before he offered it back to her.
"I think I'm going to, erm," she thumbed the direction of camp, and couldn't look him in the eye.
"Look, Elissa," he began, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I, you're, well, you're a beautiful woman, and it is a bit chilly out, your top was wet, and...Maker, I'm sorry!"
She flinched. "You mean that's," she pointed at him, "because of me?" She seemed unable to meet his gaze, but kept glancing up from under lowered lids as though to confirm he was still there.
Maker, please all the earth to swallow me whole. I would appreciate it. Thanks, Alistair.
His prayer seemed unheeded as he stood in the cool water, willing himself into a meditative state. "I'm sorry, I meant you no disrespect," he mumbled, and turned to find his own tunic snagged on a branch. Moving as he did, she caught a rather fine look at his backside before he was obscured by the water again.
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"Maker, tell me about it! I can hardly sleep!"
"I know! And at this point it has to be all show, because they know we have to hear them! I'd expect a little more decency!"
"Decency? From Zevran? I think that's asking a little much."
She let out a huff of amusement. "Probably." She flicked her fingers in the water, making little splishing noises. "I'm not good at this, Alistair. I was raised with boys, and I don't...I don't know how this works. I...I'm not stupid, I just...I thought if I ignored it, you wouldn't hate me for not...reciprocating."
He snorted, and smiled a little. "Hate you? What about me being raised in the Chantry makes you think I'm any better at...this," he made a vague gesture between the two of them, "than you are?"
"Well, you're a man. Men are supposed to know these things," she said, a small smile creeping onto her lips.
"Oh we are, are we? Well where is all that coyness? You're supposed to have wiles!"
"I left them in my other pack?"
He grinned, and reached for her hand, pulling her towards him so he didn't have to expose himself so again. "Can I...would you let me kiss you?"
She looked up at him, more than waist-deep in the water and totally drenched. "I...yes?"
"I like that answer," he admitted, and leaned down to press his lips to hers. Despite the cool water, the air had a warm, dry breeze, and when she did not protest, he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and taking the chill out of her damp clothes before the air could.
He pulled away, and her eyes were still closed, her face tilted up to his. "Mm. That was nice."
"Nice? I'll have to do better next time, then."
"Oh, next time? There's a next time?"
He nodded sagely when she opened her eyes. "I have it on very good authority that we're to start with the wooing and then proceed to the ravishing."
"The ravishing? I'm sure my mother had books on that. In fact," she tilted her head pensively, "I think Wynne has a book on that. That Rose of Orlais didn't seem to be historic reading."
Alistair laughed, and pushed her out to hold her at arm's length. "Well that's done it! No more wooing for you! Not if you're going to talk about Wynne! I keep thinking about Zevran and his little comments about her bosom and for Andraste's sake, she's like a grandmother and that's just...odd!" She giggled, and he pulled her back into his embrace, laying his cheek on her head. "So you're open to...more wooing?"
She pulled away a bit to look up at him. "I have to say it hasn't been terrible so far, except for the part where I got drenched, and lost my grip on a very good candidate for a pumice stone."
"Well! Right then. More wooing it is!"
"And then ravishing," she pointed out helpfully.
He snorted. "Eventually, I suppose," he winked, and she tried to bury her face in his chest, soliciting another laugh from the very nude, wet templar who considered himself awfully lucky just then.
FIN
{Sorry! Not a LICK of porn in there! It just didn't seem feasible once I got going with the writing. Hope OP forgives anon for the lack of the ravishing?}
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"I left them in my other pack?" *titters*
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