Three Frightful Words

He'd teased her lightly once for being more tender in her sleep then awake. He'd said it the morning after he'd finally convinced her to spend the night with him rather then leave him spent and alone for the rest of the evening. She'd awoken to find her arms curled about him, hair fanned across his chest, and he admitted to having spent sometime already awake and watching her. Morrigan had tried to shrug off his jests: there was little else to do with her arms in such tight quarters, and besides that, it was cold.

Now she awoke cramped and stiff, having fallen asleep upright against the tree that served as one of the tent's anchor points. She didn't want to risk the others walking in seeing her unconsciously creeping hands. When she finally unfolded her tightly curled arms and legs though, she saw he was still asleep and could now appreciate why he watched.

She crawled to his side but hesitated, casting about and listening hard to make sure no one was near. Morrigan's right hand trailed appreciatively across the plains of his stomach until her arm came to rest in a loose embrace below his bandages. She didn't even realize her left hand had strayed to play with his hair until she suddenly found herself contemplating how surprisingly soft it was. After a time, she finally let herself settle beside him, and nuzzled close. She did not spend long breathing in the scent of him though before she felt his lips, with her forehead resting so gently against them, curve into a smile.

As he began sitting up, the first time he'd moved in two days, she tried to push him back down into the blankets. He resisted though, and shrugged off her hands still smiling all the while but through gritted teeth. Just as her annoyance started to mount and she began contemplating paralyzing him through arcane means, he pressed a hand to his chest and let a trickle of power pour into his wounds to ease his own pain. She looked on while feeling a brief pang of regret that she hadn't yet learned anything that could take away a man's pain rather then inflict it, but quickly had all trains of thought derailed. As he began to wrap up the spell, Surana raised his still radiant hand to sweep his fingers affectionately across her cheek.

Morrigan closed her eyes as the cooling sensation washed over her, and thought on what Alistair had said. Was she really just using him? As much as she was appreciative of all he'd done for her, a pit was slowly growing in her stomach at the thought of him risking himself on her behalf. There had to be something she could say... but she didn't know what was appropriate for times like these.

She thought on it hard as he shifted himself closer. Reprimands for being a fool wouldn't be right...

She had to cover up a frown of frustration at the lack of words as he brushed her hair from her eyes. Lectures on strategy might appeal to his academic nature...

His fingers were still somewhat stiff, but he didn't let it stop him from cradling her neck. Biting jokes about how it was Alistair's job to be chewed upon by their enemies perhaps?

It troubled her that she couldn't think of one thing to say to a man who'd saved her life for little more then a hollow parody of a relationship.

When he pulled her close and captured her lips more gently then he ever had before... the words finally came. For once she didn't feel the typical empty lust, selfish desires, or rationalizations. She finally understood that this... this simple wanting of another for no other reason then who they were must be what he had felt all along and which she had feared for even longer.

As he kissed her with a tenderness she never thought this backward civilization capable of, all she could think was I love you.

The words had finally come, and she was too scared to share them.