Ooh, wrong choice. Alistair twisted awkwardly on his haunches, expecting to see literal sparks shooting under the door.
But something else happened. The templar's voice dropped lower and he whispered at barely audible levels, "Lana, I love you and I don't want to lose you again."
No fight broke out, no one stuck to their wounded egos while stomping away. Lanny's voice answered back, "I love you too." As they were probably swapping saliva outside his death bed, the awkwardness in the room reached peak 'Dear Maker, I'd rather set myself on fire and jump out the window than have to suffer this.' Thankfully the sound of feet and Lanny's cane striking the floor echoed away as the two of them probably shuffled off to make goo goo eyes at each other for a few hours.
Sliding back against his pillows, Alistair darted an eye over at Reiss. Her body stood like a marionette with the strings all knotted up. The mourner's chair sat behind her, but she didn't take it. "I don't think I'm going to have any more assassins drop in on me today," Alistair said. "Least I hope not. If you don't want to stay, you don't have to."
"No, I..." she pulled in a shuddering breath before lifting her head up. Those summery green eyes brimmed with something he'd almost think were tears, but that seemed impossible. "I'd like to stay, if that's okay."
He shrugged, jerking his head to the chair. "It's no skin off my nose. I hope. Maker, please don't tell me there's some cult out there that needs the skin of King's and Queen's and Empress' noses to rise an ancient bone golem back from the dead."
"Bone golem?" she sat down in the same spot he kept finding her in. Instead of placing her fingers tight to her knees, she fiddled with them.
"Like a regular stone golem but made out of bones. Far more creepier and eeevil!"
"Wouldn't it be much easier to destroy? A single good boulder from a trebuchet should shatter it to dust," she pointed out.
"You'd think that, but skeletons always have that evil bone magic to keep them all boned up and bony like." He had nothing, no foolish quips to walk his way through his broken heart, no obstruction with a wave of his fingers to drive away the pain sluicing through the room.
She came back.
But, she did it to save him. To protect his wretched little life as she was paid to do. Maybe it'd mean something if Reiss had been a gardener or farrier, not someone in charge of keeping his worthless skin unstabbed, but that'd been her job. Sure, she quit it because of him, because he...
"You're here," he sighed to himself. "I mean, the bad guy's off on a long and interesting trip to his new accommodations in chateau rat squalor. No reason for you to keep sticking around."
Reiss didn't look at him, but she put up her armor. "I, uh..." blinking slowly, she whispered in a scratchy voice, "I owe you one, you know for sitting with me when I was..." Was she here to honor some foolish debt between them? He didn't check in on her when she was sick in exchange for the same. He did it because...because he didn't want her to hurt. But she hurt him, hard and fast. Someone should have told Brunt there was no heart for him to stab because Reiss already gutted it from him. Alistair groaned, the forced levity cracking in half.
"I feared falling asleep because every time I opened my eyes, I kept expecting to find you'd left," he whispered to himself, "That I'd turn my head and there'd be a Reiss shaped cloud of dust."
She winced, her head falling down. That bun was in place, but she hadn't slotted back in the dagger. Instead it was an empty vial curling through her golden waves of hair. The sprinklings of tears dripped down her cheek and Alistair's stomach sneered at him for being so cruel.
"I mean," he shifted on the bed, trying to pull himself away from the raw wound in his soul, "you have your whole life to get back to. City Watch and all that fun entails, and I shouldn't keep you from it."
A snicker lifted her lips, but there was no mirth to it.
One part of him wanted to lash out the way he always did, one part jokes to another part bitter anger, but as his eyes tried to look past Reiss, to harden his heart to her, it had the damn opposite effect. She looked miserable, almost as bad as he felt and he was the one that was stabbed. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and promise that somehow it'd be okay, but he couldn't because...because she left him.
And then came back.
Right, because of assassins. Not exactly the same as riding in on a white horse and declaring eternal love.
Why not?
"You're still wearing my blood," Alistair said, pointing at the stained tunic. A dark scarlet sopped up her chest where she'd probably helped in trying to move him, or maybe it was Brunt's blood. Or her own. There was so much blood everywhere, it was like a Tevinter office party.
Reiss picked up the middle of her filthy shirt and inspected it as if the fact was new to her. "I...I didn't bring another change of clothes with me. There wasn't time, I had to leave it behind. Leave it all behind."
"Oh," he tugged on the bandage wrapped tight around his midsection, the feel of the linen distracting the pain knotting up his heart. "I had no idea. You, I mean, I've got a lot of random shirts that someone was kind enough to insist I needed for this trip. You're free to take one."
Her summery eyes washed over him and Alistair felt the lump in chest sluggishly thump awake at the attention. His mouth flapped away, needing to provide a distraction. "You know, so you don't have to waltz back to the City Watch decorated with blood. They might get a bit funny about that."
She swallowed hard and bobbed her head listlessly, "It doesn't matter, when I left I...I left everything behind."
"What?" Alistair tried to sit up, the pain in her voice drawing him closer like a moth to a flame. "What do you mean?"
Biting on her lip, she shrugged half a shoulder, "I've missed reporting in by...nearly two weeks now. There's no way they'll take me back."
Andraste, she abandoned that for him? "Reiss," his fingers skirted over hers. She didn't yank her hand back, but let him attempt to comfort her. "I'm pretty sure 'saving the King's lousy hide' is a damn good excuse for missing work. And if not, Karelle could probably swing you an even better posting."
She didn't speak for a few breaths, her eyes staring down at his hand cupping tight to hers. Should he let go? Was it the right thing to do or...? "I suppose that would be good," Reiss' voice washed back and forth like the shore, uncertainty in her every breath.
"Or," Alistair groaned at the mere thought of the monumental work ahead of him, "turns out I'm going to be needing a new Commander of the Guards. Someone I can trust who won't strategically place bodyguards in the palace to stab me in the back, or front. I'd like to avoid anymore stabbings if at all possible. This is about as much fun as having to sit through a ten year old's fife recital."
Reiss snorted at that. Why did she do that? Anyone else, everyone else suffered him. He knew it, grew used to it, didn't mind. Even Lanny had to take her occasional breaks, but Reiss would smile at him when he was tripping down non sequitur lane. She didn't attempt to mash him into place, or sand off the rough edges, just let him be him. Even, Maker help him, prop Alistair up when the world was taking its pound of flesh.
"I'd be honored if you were my Commander of the royal guards."
She pinched her eyes together tight before staring fully at him, "What?"
It'd be hard, to have her close while also beyond reach but Alistair didn't want to lose her. Not again. "I trust you, there are few anymore I can say that of and...I mean, think of the potential. You'd be the first elf ever in charge of a small standing army. At least since Shartan. And some of the Dalish, I suppose."
He didn't expect a yes right away, but Reiss' head drifted down further, her eyes burning a hole into the bedspread. "That doesn't seem wise."
"Why not? You've proven yourself, over and over. Sure, people might be hard to win to your side. Have to be a lot of 'I didn't believe in you until you stood up to the enemy and showed you were capable and now we're best friends' kind of learning experiences but... You can do it."
"That's not it," she lifted her head up and tears bubbled in her eyes. "Whether I'm capable isn't...I can't because I don't want it."
"Maker's hairy ass," Alistair groaned. Yanking his hand away from her he thudded both into the bed and growled, "What do you want?"
Her lips opened, a breath passing through them. The tears were dripping faster now, each drop an ice pick jabbed into his soul. He wanted to help, to try and give her something in this world to make her happy but he had no idea what would do it.
Steadying herself, Reiss whispered to the air, "You."
Alistair pointed at himself, then turned his head to look behind himself. "Me? Since when? You were the one to..."
"I know," she stuttered, her fingers digging into the blanket. "I walked away, I'm the reason you were nearly killed."
"No," he jabbed his hand through the air, "that was all on my turncoat Commander who's going to become very familiar with the dungeons he once ruled over. It had nothing to do with you."
She didn't seem convinced, but that need to blame herself was tabled for later. "For so long, I didn't focus on what I wanted. I couldn't. I had to keep my eyes on what I needed. No one ever cared about what I wanted." Reiss lifted her eyes and stared right into his soul as she spoke, "I didn't care about what I wanted."
He knew that feeling. Ten years old, sentenced to a life Alistair never asked for, certainly never wanted, with no one willing to listen to him he began to lose hope. He'd find little ways to rebel, to remind the Grand Cleric and anyone else that he didn't want to be templar, he didn't want to hunt mages, or give his life to the chantry. But in all that time, shouting at the top of his lungs to make certain he was still alive, hiding moldy potatoes in the Grand Cleric's pillows, rebelling the only way he could, he began to forget what it was he did want. What the very act of wanting was.
"Reiss," Alistair reached out, his fingers curling to her cheek. She didn't shrink away, or turn her head. Those beautiful eyes slipped closed and she pressed into him, her own hand cupping the back.
"I want you," she whispered, "my heart...Maker's breath, my heart's been begging for you for, I think since we met."
Biting his tongue, Alistair braced himself for the but he knew was coming.
"The problem is I can't be with you and also work for you," her eyes opened, fresh tears glistening on the edges. Leaning closer, Alistair dabbed his thumb to the sides, trying to wick them away. He couldn't take her in pain even if she was hurting him in the process.
Reiss blinked madly, trying to fan away the tears while she launched into an explanation, "I keep thinking what if I find myself doing things not because I want to, or because they'd make you happy but because I...I fear reprisal. If you, if there was a chance you'd turn cold and then, and I'd lose... It's not that I think you would, only, from my past when things were... I'm sorry," she faded away, trying to turn from him. Her lips puckered against his hands, but Alistair didn't release her.
"I get it," he said. Reiss' eyes opened wide and she honed in on him. "I didn't think how, thought that you being separate wouldn't interfere. Though then I was putting you under Cade and in retrospect you made the right call running far from that."
"I didn't think he was so calculatingly evil at the time, just an elf-hating jerk," she shrugged.
"Which is still a good enough reason to refuse the job," he chuckled. "Salary's good, benefits are wonderful, but the boss thinks me and my kind should be wiped from the face of thedas. Hard pass."
"You've given me so much," Reiss sighed.
Alistair shook his head, "Only what you've earned."
"Can you really say that if I had not slept with you, you'd still offer me the position of Commander?"
"I..." Yes. Of course. She put all the pieces together, saw what no one else did, jumped straight to the right conclusion, and saved his ass. But.
He couldn't be sure. Not really. Try as hard he could, Alistair couldn't divorce his affection... Maker's sake, call it what it is. His love for Reiss from her accomplishments. And it'd always be there if she served under him, even with her own charges to answer to. For the rest of her life she'd wonder what got her the accolades as would everyone else in the palace.
"Damn," Alistair cursed himself, cursed his foolish heart. How did he not see all those traps littering the path? He thought it'd be easy, just like the ones before but he didn't want what the handful of mages gave him. A few moments throughout the day, and then nights, never connecting just existing in the same room. He wanted so much more but had no idea what to do to get it.
"This job would change things for the better," he admitted, his eyes pinched tight as he couldn't look at her while damning his own heart. "People never thought much of Shiani but she's done good for the alienage. Another elf in such a vaulted position would...it'd..." He turned over to her and tried to shake off the pain building in his eyes. "Knowing what it means, I can't take it from you for my own selfish reasons."
"Ma'arlath," Reiss whispered. Her fingers skirted over his cheeks and he blinked in surprise to find tears sopping into her skin. Alistair wanted to run, to turn all this into punches and kicks and other things that would pop open any stitches and piss off Lanny. Emotions were to be wadded deep down and turned into something useful. But...
Rolling his fingers around Reiss' wrist, he pressed her hand tighter to him and tried to place his lips in her grasp. It wasn't a kiss, because his trembling mouth couldn't pucker. No, instead he breathed wordlessly against her skin every fear in his heart, every loss, every broken hope and eternal despair. He couldn't stop, the tears on a downpour while salt sloshed into his mumbling lips as he begged her to stay. To be with him. To love him. But he couldn't voice it, couldn't tear her away from a future that she not only deserved but could do so much with.
She'd earned her happiness even if it wasn't with him.
"I'm sorry, I seem to be blubbering all over your hand," Alistair shook his head, trying to knock away the last of the depression as if it was ever that easy.
Reiss drew back her hand stained in his tears and then gently wiped it down the front of her shirt, "I can use it to clear away the blood."
That hammy sentiment made him snicker, his eyes entranced at her fingers tugging back and forth against her chest. The one that she used to tug his head to, sometimes before falling asleep. Once so he could listen to her heartbeat because he was being foolish, insisting that hers had to have a symphonic quality. Something about her being so quick on her feet or other nonsense that Reiss kept encouraging.
"I can't stop loving you," Alistair gasped, the dam shattering. "I'm sorry, I wanted to make this easier for...for both of us really, but," he thudded a limp fist against his sternum and groaned, "this thing never listens."
"Don't," Reiss wrapped her fingers around his fist and tugged it away.
"I won't do too much damage to myself. I've faced Lanny's wrath before," he confided.
"No, I mean don't stop..." her eyes darted away. A breath rattled through her nose, crinkling up the broken part which almost brought a smile to Alistair's pale lips. "I didn't come out here because I thought I'd get you back. No, that's not how I should. I mean."
Reiss tipped her head back and glared at the ceiling, "Why is this so hard? Maker's sake, I love you. Okay. I've loved you for...I don't know since I first kissed you, or when you rescued an elven child, or while you were slurping up soup and drizzled a drop to the fly beside you. I don't know when because my brain keeps telling my heart that it's bad, it's dangerous, and I shouldn't, but I can't stop loving you. I wanted so badly to tell you but..."
Her amplified words faded and she whipped her head down. Uncertainty filled those summer eyes and she bit onto her lip. "I guess I just did tell you."
Alistair began to laugh, the absurdity of it all striking him hard on the nose like a naughty dog. She loved him, he loved her. Blighted everyone in his life was pushing him to be with her. But of course it wasn't enough. Things kept interfering, his damn crow
n all but stabbing him in the back.
The idiotic laughter slowed and Alistair stirred a finger through the blanket, "I want it to work, to be with you, even if it's at a distance, or once a month, or I can only see you through a tiny hole in the wall. I don't blighted care, I want you in my life."
"Me too," she smiled.
"Then, what do I have to do, what do you need me to do to make it happen?" He wished he had a piece of parchment near to scrawl it all down. Every step, no matter how outlandish or seemingly impossible he'd do. Cross the invisible bridge, solve the impossible riddle, pluck a flower from the top of the mountain if it meant he could be with her.
Reiss roughed her fingers up and down his unruly stubble -- Cullen was willing to deal with shirts and pants, but he refused to shave him. "Nothing," she whispered before leaning forward. Alistair froze, his body exhausted and his brain lost, while she placed her lips against his. Those beautiful, ornery, quick witted lips that he never thought he'd taste again, pressed and molded against him. The kiss was horribly sloppy, Alistair sliding forward and nearly head butting her with his forehead, but he didn't care. It was the impossible kiss; but would it be the last before the end of everything, or the first in a new potential?
Sliding away, Reiss breathed, "That's the point, you do nothing and I...I live my life outside the palace. As a random citizen who's in love with a man that also happens to be King."
"You think that'll work?" Alistair asked.
Her fingers parted over his forehead before tugging up his oily hair. "Who knows? Who knows what anything will bring. I hope it will."
Even with exhaustion and pain swirling through his body, Alistair reached forward. He locked both hands around Reiss' body, pulling himself into her embrace. She was slower to respond, still trying to get his hair to obey before those thin fingers, broken and callused from her mad dash across Ferelden to save his sorry hide, circled over the weary muscles in his back.
"I love you," tumbled from Alistair's throat as he lost himself in her softening eyes. "Which I should have told you before, and not in the middle of a big fight."
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