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Alistair knew that there was nothing wrong with Anora. Not that they always got along. Anora was cold and calculating, far more brutal than him, which led to them clashing on how to handle things. Still, she was smart, and knew how to handle Ferelden’s politics. He knew Persephone had wanted him and Anora to ascend to the throne together because they balanced each other. Alistair was the charming and compassionate side of this, to temper Anora’s more ruthless habits. Which was probably why each was still trying to find their footing in this new marriage. It didn’t help that Alistair didn’t even want to be King.
In the months following the end of the Blight, there had been no peace. Not that he had expected any, but a moment to breathe would have been welcome. Trying to support the elves in the alienage, helping those in areas of the nation impacted by the Blight, recovering from the civil war, trying to temper unrest about a Warden on the throne, trying to temper unrest about Anora on the throne, strengthening relations with the Dalish, setting up the Wardens in Amaranthine, trying to temper unrest about Alistair marrying his half-brother’s widow, trying to temper unrest about Anora marrying her dead husband’s half brother, ignoring Anora’s attempts at starting a conversation about when to try for an heir, and every other little thing that ended up coming before him and Anora. He hoped things would be easier once the nation had recovered. Just one moment of peace, of not having to worry, would be enough. Even his dreams couldn’t bring him solace.
She lurked in his dreams. Raven hair and those sharp, golden eyes.
To say that his dreams brought him no solace was technically incorrect. Technically, when he dreamed, he forgot about all his troubles of the waking world. Being King and everything tied up in it, all his friends being scattered across Thedas, no longer being considered a Warden, it all melted away. It was the lack of peace after waking that troubled him. Dreams of living somewhere quiet and away from the rest of the world with Morrigan and the baby. The three of them, together, a simple life. It haunted him during the day and consumed him during the night.
At the moment, it was haunting him. Alistair stared up at the ceiling of his room, separate from Anora’s, trying to mull over the day instead of thinking what sleep might bring him. He was in the middle of the final preparations for the Wardens to take over Amaranthine, which Persephone would run. For her, of all people, everything had to be perfect. He should think about that. Instead, it was Morrigan. Her laugh, her eyes, her voice, all of it tried to lure him into sleep. It didn’t help that his eyes were getting heavier and heavier. He needed to focus on Amaranthine. He would focus on Amaranthine.
The axe thunked against the stump as Alistair cleanly split the log in front of him. He wanted to make sure they had an ample supply for the approaching winter. Babies got cold easily, and it wouldn’t do for the baby to get cold. Another log was set upon the stump, and Alistair lifted the axe. Another thunk as it fell, splitting the wood just as cleanly as before.
Movement at the edge of the trees caught his attention, and Alistair lifted his head in time to see a black bear lumber from the woods. She meandered towards the house, watching the man with the axe. He set the axe aside, scooping up his split logs and toting them toward the woodshed. The bear and human watched each other, neither seeming put off by the other.
It wasn’t until she was nearer to the house that the bear pushed onto her hind legs. The limbs shrunk, fur retracted, snout flattening, until Morrigan returned to her true form. Those golden eyes were pinned on him, looking him up and down. Alistair was suddenly very aware of the shirt he had discarded when he started chopping wood.
She only looked away as she approached the window to the baby’s room, and she leaned through to look down at where they slept in their cradle.
“Did—” her words distorted around the name “—rest well?”
“Yes, very well behaved, not a single peep.”
“Good, I fret whenever I am away. Tis a consequence of having a child, I suppose,” Morrigan said, turning her attention to Alistair. She looked him over again, smirking a little. “I do wonder, Alistair, if perhaps the motivation for tromping around without clothes is to tempt those who come upon you in the woods.”
“Who else would find me out here?”
“Tis then, perhaps, in an effort to tempt me.” She said it so simply, as if that were the only reason. Alistair felt a blush spread to his ears.
“Or, perhaps, it’s in an effort to not sweat through my shirt while chopping wood,” Alistair said, mimicking Morrigan’s voice as he returned to the axe and stump. He scooped up his shirt and the axe, using it as an excuse not to look at Morrigan.
“I did not say it as a complaint,” Morrigan said. Alistair turned to see her heading into the cabin. “Now, I require rest. Hunting for dinner tonight shall be exhausting, I should like some time for the simple pleasures before then.”
“For the simple pleasures,” Alistair mocked under his breath. “By the Maker, just say you want to read for a bit.”
He trailed her inside, but instead of heading for the small seating area like Morrigan had, he went to their bedroom. The tap of her fingers across the spines of their sparse collection of books slipped through the open door, but Alistair tried not to focus on it as he moved in front of the washbasin. He scooped up the washcloth, dunking it in water as he watched the sitting area out of the corner of his eye.
Morrigan came into view, perching in her usual chair with a thick book in hand. Still watching her, Alistair wrung out the rag. Being obvious about watching her would only earn more of her teasing, and he just wanted to enjoy her like this. See every small shift in expression as she read, watch how one stubborn strand of hair kept falling into her eyes, and how her finger skimmed the page as she read. She would get this slight quirk to her lips whenever something amused her, that was his favourite trait of hers. Watching her face go from somewhat cold in its neutrality to a subtle amusement.
It was her expression now. That small tilt of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes. She closed the book and set it aside. Her eyes were on him. “If you continue to stare, Alistair, I fear you shall never be clean.”
“I wasn’t— I was just—” he stammered, heat creeping from his face down his neck.
“I am not blind. No rag need be rung for two minutes.” Morrigan stood, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides. She plucked the cloth from his hands, smirking up at him. The fingers of her free hand ghosted across his chest, but her eyes locked on his face. They were such beautiful eyes. “Tis easy to be distracted by your sharp tongue.”
Her hand moved up to his neck, making him shiver, before settling on his cheek. Her thumb swept over his bottom lip, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “I often forget how easy it is to make you tongue-tied.”
It seemed impossible for Alistair to pull his thoughts together. Too much of his attention was focused on the feel of her skin against his, on how her thumb pressed against the corner of his lips. There were plenty of thoughts still spinning through his head, but some were becoming clearer than others. Most seemed too crass to say out loud. Only one didn’t.
“Can I kiss you?”
Morrigan laughed. “Tis somewhat endearing that you always ask.”
She dropped the rag and pulled him down to her, arms snaking around his neck as their lips met. It started off soft and slow, comfortable. The way their lips fit together, the feel of Morrigan’s skin under his hands, felt right. Morrigan deepened the kiss, hungry as she backed them towards the bed. Alistair let her, a thrill running through him as his legs hit the bed. He gave in to Morrigan’s wants, letting their lips break apart as he moved further back on the mattress and kicked off his boots. She shed layers as well, boots and belts cast aside before crawling onto the bed.
Alistair was caged between her arms, and Morrigan ducked back down to capture his lips. He couldn’t focus on anything but her. The smell of the woods clung to her skin. Each spot they touched sent sparks dancing over his skin. She wasn’t close enough, he couldn’t get her close enough. His hands wandered her body, sliding up her back, down her arms, grabbing her ass, and moving down her thighs. One of Morrigan’s hands remained occupied in keeping her supported over him, but the other moved over his chest. It trailed down his stomach, leaving chills in its wake, and stopped just at the waistband of his pants. She pulled away from him, looking down at him with lust-blown eyes. “Are we to continue? Or is this as far as you would like to go?”
Everything felt warm. He needed more of her, he needed her. “Continue, we can continue.”
“Then undress me, Alistair.” Morrigan sat back, straddling his legs.
He sat up, hands trembling slightly as he eased her clothes off. It was a slow process, but he wanted to take his time. Enjoy every second of helping her shed her clothes and admire every inch of her skin. When he finally pulled her top off, Alistair moved in and pressed kisses against the skin on her neck and collarbones. He trailed his way down to her breasts, taking one into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the nipple while he massaged the other, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Morrigan moaned softly under the attention, winding her fingers through his hair. She tugged slightly, and Alistair pulled away, looking up at her.
“Clothes first,” she said.
Alistair fumbled through pulling her skirt off, still trying to take his time and enjoy every part of her, but struggling just a little with their position. Once she was bare in front of him, Morrigan pushed him back down and moved up to straddle his torso. She was divine. Smooth skin covered in a few freckles, still some stomach from having the baby, and dark curls between her legs.
“Let me taste you,” he begged in a low voice. It felt like every ounce of blood had moved to his cock and every scrap of thought had slipped from his head. Morrigan chuckled, taking his chin in her hand.
“So needy,” she said before moving up the rest of his body. Morrigan’s legs settled next to his head, hovering over him for a moment as she let her fingers card through his hair. Then she sank down onto his lips as his hands wrapped around her thighs. With her rocking against his face, Alistair latched onto her clit, sucking and circling it with his tongue. Morrigan whimpered above him, soft sounds of pleasure building in intensity the more he worked. He continued to coax those sounds from her, needing to hear more, needing her to be louder. Her wet covered his mouth and chin, and Alistair was vaguely aware that this was the goal and that he could slide inside her now, but he couldn’t keep his focus away from the high Morrigan moaning his name provided.
“Alistair,” she gasped, placing a hand on his forehead and pushing him back. Alistair let her go, trying to catch his breath as Morrigan slid down his body. It was unfair how good Morrigan looked. Her face was flushed, hair in disarray, and her eyes will locked onto his face. Alistair wiped his mouth, watching as she fidgeted with his pants. She finally unclasped them, and he obligingly raised his hips so she could pull them off him.
Pre-cum beaded at the tip of his cock, and Morrigan swiped her thumb through it, smearing it around the head. Alistair whimpered under the attention, and he saw her lips quirk into a smile. Morrigan raised herself over him, circling her entrance with the tip before sliding it inside. As she slid down, Alistair’s hips bucked up, groaning as her warmth surrounded him. She felt so good, it took him a moment to adjust to the feel of her around him.
Morrigan barely gave him the time to do so before she was riding him, head tipping back with pleasure as she set the pace. Alistair couldn’t tear his eyes away. His hands settled over her hips, fingers digging into their plush skin there as his own hips rolled against hers. Barely hesitating, he let a hand continue to move up her body and cup one of her breasts again. As he pinched and tugged on the nipple, Morrigan’s back arched as a low moan slipped from her lips. Alistair watched as her flush deepened and smiled. This was exactly what he wanted to be doing. Making Morrigan feel good, just like this.
His own thoughts were hazy as he felt Morrigan clench around him, too caught up in how good she felt. He knew his own pleasure was building, he knew she was pulling him closer to orgasm with every thrust and roll of the hips. He was too focused on Morrigan.
When she came around his cock, Morrigan let out a soft cry and leaned forward. Alistair pulled her flush against his chest, slipping a hand between them so his fingers could circle her clit to carry her through her orgasm. Alistair continued to thrust into her, his own climax building as Morrigan whimpered and moaned into his ear. Her hips continued to roll against his, and when his name slipped from her lips in a low groan, it tipped him over the edge.
Alistair groaned, low and long as his cum spilled into Morrigan. She clenched around him, burying her face into his neck as each came down from their high. Eventually they separated, Alistair pulling out of Morrigan as she rolled off him. He shifted onto his side to look down at her, pushing that stubborn strand of hair from her eyes. They would need to clean up soon, and Alistair would offer to go hunt that night instead of Morrigan. A comfortable silence stretched between the two, neither one feeling particularly motivated to speak or move.
“I miss you, when I’m awake,” Morrigan said, the confession abrupt but said so softly Alistair was almost certain he’d imagined it. It also didn’t make sense to say.
“What was that?”
Morrigan opened her eyes, peering up at Alistair with an achingly soft expression. “Don’t worry about it.”
She pulled him down to her, capturing his lips in another soft kiss.
Alistair shot up in bed, gasping as his dreams fell away. He could feel where he had gotten hard from his dream and groaned, getting out of bed to make his way to the washbasin. Cursing himself, Alistair splashed his face with the chilled water, trying to calm himself down.
He needed to push these dreams out of his mind. It wouldn’t do to dwell on a life he could never have.