Chapter Thirty-Three: Rejection and Acceptance
When I woke, I was in Alistair's tent. For the second time. I mostly could tell it was his tent on account of the fact that he was lying in it, right beside me. There's not a lot of room in a bedroll, really, so I was plastered to his side while he was on his back, arms up and hands behind his head. He jumped like he'd been shot when I opened my eyes, and I sat up and scrambled away from him. My skin felt like it was burning again where it had been in contact with him, and though I knew that was all in my head, it made a lick of heat curl through my insides, made me long for...
inappropriate, Sierra!
I'm sure my face was purple, Alistair's was as well, and I suddenly wondered how long I'd been lying there. Before he could overcome his shock to say anything, I fled, pushing through the tent flaps, stumbling to my feet and hoping to rush out of camp before having to speak to anyone.
Aedan's mouth dropped open when he saw me emerge, and he gave me a sympathetic look and let me run. Leliana happened onto my path just as I was about to escape into the woods, and she grabbed my hand and stopped me.
"I think perhaps the Maker is sending you a message, no? He has placed you in the handsome templar's tent twice, now..."
I got angry. It wasn't her fault, and I knew it wasn't, but I was sick of my emotions being jerked around.
"Your Maker can just keep his opinions on my love life to himself!"
I yanked my hand out of hers and stormed off. Her hurt expression ate at me, and I knew I'd owe her a huge apology later, but I couldn't right then. I needed air, and alone time. And preferably somewhere I could scream until hoarse, far enough away that no one would hear me and question my (very questionable) sanity. I strode off into the woods, finding a small clearing close enough to be safe, but far enough that I could melt down unseen. I threw myself down on the ground, eyes closed, fingers massaging my temples as the tears came.
As I lay there, I heard the sounds of Aedan and then Zevran ease into the clearing, then leave again, giving me my space. The tears finally dried, and I just stared up at the blue sky, feeling wrung out. It had probably been a half hour since I fled from Alistair's tent, and I had no intention of going back to camp anytime soon. As I lay there, I heard steps I knew could belong to only one person, and I shot up to my feet like I'd been launched from a cannon.
No way am I being caught by him lying down!
I turned instead and found a rock to sit on, facing away, waiting for his steps to draw close. When he reached me, he fidgeted for a couple of moments, and I just sat quietly. Finally he sighed and stepped into my line of sight. I kept my gaze on my boots.
"So..."
"I don't want to talk about it, Alistair."
"Too bad. You know what Leliana tells me, all the time? I'm too much of a gentleman. So this time, I'm not being gentlemanly. I insist. We are going to talk about this."
"Alistair, I've told you how I feel. What happened doesn't change that. What more is there to say?"
"Oh, but you haven't, Sierra, not by a long shot. You've told me what you think, in that logical brain of yours, not what you feel. Ignoring, for a moment, the fact that you almost killed yourself trying to keep me alive, let's start with this: you saved Duncan and Cailan for me. Not for Ferelden, not because of the Blight, but for me."
I opened my mouth to object, point out all the other reasons I wanted them to live...but he had me. I'd admitted it, and though I'd never planned for him to hear it, I had no argument that would convince him. I finally nodded.
"Yes." I whispered the admission so quietly that I doubted he could even hear it. The answer, however, was obvious.
"Why?"
"I...Cailan's the King, and we need all the Grey Wardens..."
His hands clamped down on my upper arms and he lifted me off the rock then shook me; gently, considering his strength, but my head still snapped back and forth. "No. Don't tell me why everyone else is glad they're alive. Why did you do it specifically for me?" I saw Aedan approach silently from behind Alistair, a question in his worried eyes, and I knew if he was there, Zev was too, somewhere. I signaled to my brother with my eyes and my fingers to back off. He did, but only to the edge of the clearing. Alistair set me on my feet, but didn't let go of my arms.
"Alistair, I..." I looked into his eyes
deeply
, possibly for the first time, and suddenly felt like I was drowning in them. I bit my lip, tried to look away, and failed. When had those hazel eyes become so piercing, so mesmerizing? I shook my head as my traitorous mouth spilled the truth I wanted - no, needed - to hide.
"I didn't want to see you unhappy." I tried to stop myself, but there was too much pressure behind the words and the rest came rushing out. "I couldn't stand to see that look on your face. I know how much Duncan means to you. And I didn't want you to be forced to become King. I wanted you to be free to choose your fate. Plus this way, maybe...maybe you won't have to die. Not that I want anyone to have to die to kill the Archdemon, but...not you."
His hands gripped my arms tighter, and I stifled a gasp of pain. He didn't know his own strength, but I knew he'd leave bruises, and I didn't care. I wanted it to hurt. His voice was low.
"You gave me all the reasons I should stay away from you, why I shouldn't fall in love. But, Sierra...I don't care about any of that. It was already way too late. Now I need to know.
"Do you love me?"
I stared at him, mind reeling, searching for anything that I could say, anything to make this go away, but his eyes caught me again and I knew I couldn't lie. Not to his face. It would break me.
"Yes." It burned my mouth to say it. "And that's why I can't...we can't..." He shook me again, and my sentence trailed off.
Emotions flickered across his face - fear, longing, anger, amazement. It settled on one that could only be described as 'in love': a goofy smile, eyes too bright, skin practically glowing. I gasped as he pulled me closer, seeing the intent in his eyes, and started mouthing the word 'no'. My mouth was dry, my tongue felt sluggish, and I couldn't get the word out, couldn't even shake my head. Agonisingly slowly, he tilted his head down, and our lips met. They barely brushed once, and then he licked his lips and was back for more. He wasn't demanding or rough, just sweet and soft and perfect, and whatever flimsy wall I had tried to construct over my emotions shattered. I could feel him tremble, and I wondered what his self-control was costing him.
My hands, the only part of my arms that could move, fisted as I struggled against him. I wasn't strong enough to stop him forcibly, but I knew this man. I knew he would stop if he was aware that I wanted him to. He did, pulling back with a shattered breath. The trembling increased.
I swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into my mouth. All I wanted was to throw myself into his arms. I resisted. Mental images of myself, at home, alone, broken, flashed through my mind, followed by memories of me sobbing into my pillow after the first time I accidentally allowed him to sacrifice himself in the game to kill the Archdemon. At last I realised just how truly selfish I was. I wasn't saving him. I was saving myself. I didn't want to have to live with myself if I loved him, for real, and he died, or I disappeared for good. He didn't deserve to be stuck with someone like me. A single tear silently slid down my cheek. With a growl, he let go of my arms, turning to walk away, shoulders hunched like he'd been sucker-punched.