Strings Attached - a There and Back Again side story

Part 19

Nineteen: Nathaniel

Now she'd managed to distract him with imagining their first time – and the second, and the third, preferably all in the same night. They'd both laughed uncomfortably, and then avoided eye contact as they'd extracted themselves from the rather intimate embrace they'd found themselves in.

Getting dressed had been somewhat awkward; there was little room inside the tiny cave, so they nearly couldn't avoid accidentally bumping into each other as they attempted to don their respective armour. Both sets of leathers were still damp, making it rather like they were squirming into clingy second skins rather than armour. Not that he didn't enjoy the view he had of the bard as she attempted to get her armour over her legs without accidentally exposing anything else.

Making the decision to wait, instead of taking her up on her implicit offer was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done. She'd been there, half naked and gorgeous and grinding herself against his lap, and he had been stunned by just how badly he'd wanted to break his celibate streak right then and there. But he wanted so much more than just sex with this woman, and he wouldn't take the chance that she felt pressured – or just unimpressed with his effort. She deserved to be romanced, showered with gifts and read poetry, not tumbled on the ground of some nasty cave. He was going to have to up his game if he ever hoped to deserve her.

But she had nice legs, and the view as she shimmied herself into her armour...yeah, the view was nice.

He blushed when she caught him staring – and then chuffed out a surprised laugh when all she did was wiggle her hips at him, purposefully provocative now, with a wide grin. His own armour grew even more uncomfortable, and he sent a brief prayer of thanks to the Maker that the thick leather would at least disguise that fact.

And then, when he bent over and preceded her out of the little cave, she whistled – a loud, obnoxious, appreciative whistle. He laughed, right out loud, for the first time in...

He didn't want to think about that.

They walked in comfortable silence, back in the direction Leliana indicated. There were obvious marks where she'd dragged him through the underbrush on her improvised sledge, so it was easy to follow them back to the main path where they'd been ambushed. He tried not to stare at her while they walked, but despite his best efforts, she caught him looking several times anyway. Each time she'd giggle, and he'd blush; they'd both look away, but it wasn't long before he'd find himself watching her again.

He helped her over a fallen tree blocking their way – not that she needed it, but it was only polite. Once she'd stepped down, he kept her hand, and his heart beat a little faster when she just curled her fingers around his with a light squeeze.

Finally he could take the silence no more. "Leliana?"

She smiled at him. He swallowed, trailing to a halt, his grip on her hand pulling her to a stop as well.

"Do you wish to let people know about..." He wasn't sure what to call it. Maker, he was making such a fool of himself.

She frowned. "I do not know. What would we even say?" She shot him a look that probably mirrored the puzzlement on his own face. "I do not wish to be a 'dirty secret,' but neither do I want to field questions about us when we're..." He waited to see what she would say, curious how she would classify things. "...just getting started."

He nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. "I don't want you to think I am ashamed of you." He reached up to cup her cheek, and she stepped closer to him until he could wrap his other arm around her waist. "But I don't want you being made a target, either."

Her eyebrows flew up. "Target?"

He sighed. "I...yes. There are multiple threats we are aware of. People who were promised wealth by my father, or people who wish revenge for me foiling his plans, as well as people he's harmed who want vengeance. Fortunately, the Blight – and King Cailan's favour – have delayed them, for now. But I will have to deal with it eventually. I don't wish for you to be caught in the middle."

"Who?" she demanded, apparently incensed. She put her hands on her hips, her expression fierce, and his heart throbbed once in his chest.

He chuckled. "It's nothing I hadn't expected – and nothing I can't handle. My gut tells me Bann Esmerelle is at the heart of most of it; she was my father's closest ally, and his lover, if you believe the gossip." He gave a disgusted grunt. "I'll deal with her as soon as I've settled things at the Vigil. Either way, it's probably a good thing no one has really seen us together, even if I do wish – selfishly – that you'd said something to me sooner."

"Say something? Me? A common messenger, an Orlesian, say something to a Fereldan Arl? What should I have said? 'Would you like to ruin your political reputation, your Lordship?' Or how about 'Care to take a tumble with an underling, Arl Howe?' Or..." She sighed, the reality of the situation hitting her. "Maker, what was I thinking? I seem to have lost track of all of my common sense."

"No, no." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Please. I don't have a reputation to ruin, nor do I care one bit about you being Orlesian. You're not anyway, and there's a lot more to you than just your accent. If anything, my family name should have you running away – to save yourself from my reputation." He grunted. "And my would-be assassins."

She pressed her face against his shoulder, then looked up with a determined expression. "I'm not going anywhere. If nothing else, I shall help you with these threats – regardless of what happens between us."

He groaned, and then tilted her chin up and kissed her thoroughly. When they were both breathless, he broke off the kiss with a sigh. "I..." He almost said the words, but couldn't finish the statement, even though it was clear to him, in that moment – stupidly, illogically, probably regrettably – that he meant them in a way he'd never felt before. "Thank you," he said instead.