The Boy Who Would Be King

Chapter Two

"Mmm, I'm so glad they're gone."

The chuckle came warm against her hair. Laying here, head burrowed against his chest, she couldn't help but agree. This was... perfect.

"How about – y'know – no more visitors for a while?"

Elissa laughed, pressing a lingering kiss across his still slick skin. The delegates had been with them for little over a week and this was the first time that they had truly had a moment to themselves. "It doesn't work like that. We'd be turning them away at the gate."

"Then turn them away." Alistair's arms encircled her easily, pulling her up to face him with an indignant squeak. Those lips were pouted, mocking, but there was a smile behind his eyes. "It's not fair."

She rubbed her nose against his. "No one said it would be."

"But we deserve... something." It passed dark across his face, that growing sternness that she had seen more and more of late. After a moment it slipped away, sudden as it had come, the decision made. "A trip. You, me, Duncan. We'll go to Highever, visit your brother." He traced a finger along her cheek. "I know how you miss it."

The smile came easy. "That would be... lovely. Really, it would." She lay a kiss against his chin, nestling in the softness of his few day's beard. "But my duty... our duty is here now."

He sank back against the pillows with a sigh. She could see it there; he had expected no less. But always it fell to her to speak the words, to be pragmatic, practical.

Still he smiled, pulling her again to rest against his chest. "Just... maybe we can hold them off for a few days?" His hand stroked her hair. "And I know, I know... but you look as though you could use a rest."

She stiffened, hoped he didn't notice.

Cupping her cheek, he tilted her eyes to meet his. "You're amazing, you're strong, bane of darkspawn and Orlesians alike. But you just seem... quiet lately... exhausted."

She squeezed her eyes shut, burying her face against him as her arms strained round to pull him close. So. He had noticed. Distracted, yes. Tired, of course. And still he worried for her.

Running her fingers across his belly, she sighed. So strong, so pale, so... different. Had it not been just that afternoon that she had traced those hands across another... She shook her head. But still she could see that grin, thick and playful. There she could lay, no words, no promises, asking nothing. And those eyes... eyes that she had come to know better than her own.

The knock came timid, her head snapping up. Alistair, too, had started, more for her than for the sound, running a soothing hand along her back.

"Come."

Nora bowed low, turning her eyes from the bed as Alistair tugged the blankets to his chin. But it was to her that the nurse looked, the flushing apology clear. "M'lord, M'lady. I-I am sorry. Another nightmare. He is asking for his mother."

"Thank you, Nora. Just give me a moment to dress."

She slipped from beneath the blankets as the door fell shut, making quick for the wardrobe. There were nightdresses here, but her hand hesitated, selecting instead a simple gown of pale blue. She could feel Alistair's eyes on her back.

"Where are you going?"

Pulling the dress over her head, she cinched the waist, piling her hair into a hasty knot. "He may need... milk... something to settle him."

"Send someone for it."

She turned, sitting beside him on the bed. There was no anger there, no suspicion, only that ever-present worry.