When I Look at You (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Disquiet

Alistair woke the next morning with an aching head and only a very vague memory of what had happened last night. He opened his eyes to see Una looking at him anxiously.

"Are you all right? You slept very hard."

"Still pretty groggy," he admitted. He sat up, rubbing his face. "Was I having a nightmare or did I—we—have sex with Morrigan last night?"

"No nightmare. That was real."

"Huh."

"Do you ... want to talk about it?"

He shook his head, climbing out of bed and beginning to clean himself up. "Not really. We should get moving, anyway. The armies need to hurry." Una was already dressed, he noticed."Did you get any sleep?"

"Not much." She tucked a last few things into her pack before cinching it closed. "Morrigan flew to Denerim last night."

"Did she? Good. I'm glad. Hopefully she'll be in time to help the people there."

Una nodded, trying not to think of Fergus and Grenli left there with the horde coming. "Alistair—"

"Don't." Half-dressed, he turned to her, seeing at last the whiteness of her face and the way her eyes seemed unusually large. She was frightened, probably of what he was going to say. He reached out and took her by the shoulders, drawing her close to him. "It's all right, love."

"You say that now, but ... some day ..."

"Why don't we let some day take care of itself? For now, we have a lot ahead of us, and I can't dwell on what we did last night or I'll ... I just can't think about it right now. And—whatever happens, I don't want to spend a single moment with you arguing, when we don't know—" His arms tightened around her. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Una wanted to remind him that Morrigan said neither of them would have to die now, but she understood why he didn't want to think any further about the ritual, and knew that he probably wouldn't entirely believe Morrigan anyway.

"Now, should we get our troops together and move out? I'll feel better when we're on our way to Denerim."

"As will I."

It was a subdued and hurried march; the troops all felt the same need to hurry, the same concern about those left helpless and unprepared in Denerim, the same unhappiness about any wasted moment.

Una's people were quiet, as well, lost in their own thoughts. Only Oghren had asked about Morrigan's sudden disappearance. Una had explained that the witch had flown ahead to warn Denerim, but it was such an uncharacteristic action on Morrigan's part that Una could feel both Leliana and Zevran studying her, the weight of their speculation heavy on her shoulders. But they couldn't tell anyone what had truly occurred; not even their dearest friends. It could endanger Alistair's rule, and Morrigan herself, and thus all of them when they faced the Archdemon.

Alistair wasn't feeling particularly talkative, either, still trying to overcome his lingering distaste and disquiet after the ritual. He didn't blame Una ... exactly ... but she hadn't said no. She had left it up to him, but made it plain what she wanted. Could he have said no, broken her heart, sacrificed himself, left her to rule Ferelden without him? He supposed it was possible, but it would have been the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, harder by far than spending a night with two beautiful women, harder than living the rest of his life knowing he had a child he would never meet.

All of which meant that he ought to own the responsibility for the decision that was made, but it was new to him. He had grown so used to letting Una make the decisions ... He reminded himself that he was the King now. The decisions would be his. Her opinion would be valuable, and always needed and appreciated, but he had to learn to be decisive on his own.

He had merely started with a decision of such great momentousness that he was still reeling from it, he told himself. When they reached Denerim, when they had the Archdemon in front of them to fight, he would feel better.

Una had her own disquiets, pressing in on her from all sides. Fergus and Grenli in Denerim—had Morrigan found them? Had she reached them in time? Had Fergus stubbornly insisted on leading the defense against the darkspawn and gotten himself killed anyway? He was the last of her family, miraculously returned to her long after she had given him up for dead. She couldn't lose him again, not so soon after having gotten him back. And Grenli had been at her side through—all of it. Every step of the way. His unswerving loyalty and unparalleled affection had given her strength at times when she had needed it desperately.

Every time she managed to pull her thoughts away from concerns for their safety, she ran again into the problem of Alistair, and Morrigan, and that ritual.

That Alistair had been a willing participant had been evident ... but not quite as willing as she would have expected, which had been a relief to her. On the other hand, what she had asked him to do, to create a bastard child who would grow up abandoned by his father just the way Alistair himself had been, went against everything he was, everything he had promised himself he would be. And Una knew what she had done—in telling him she would do the ritual and then turning the decision over to him, she had all but guaranteed that he would say yes. Did he know that? Did he feel manipulated, blame her for what had happened?

Then, in the midst of her turmoil, he reached for her, pulling her against him, and the troops went by, some staring, some trying just as openly not to stare, as they clung to one another.

In a rush, Una said, "I'm sorry I made you do that. I couldn't let you die."

"I know. I couldn't leave you, either." Alistair cupped the side of her face.

"So ... we're all right? You're not resenting me for ... what we did?"

"No. But—I'm glad we did it together." His eyes warmed. "And not just because watching you and Morrigan kiss is a memory I'll be holding on to for a long time."

"That's what you're taking away from this?"

"Mayyybe."

"'Ey. Yer Highnesses! Get a tent!" Oghren shouted as he went by them, waving his axe in the air.

Alistair and Una chuckled and clung to one another.

"Now," said Alistair, "let's get to Denerim and kill this Archdemon."