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There’s something about Orlesian springs that makes her lazy.
It’s the warmth, perhaps, or the sun – both are hard to come by in Ferelden.
She’s not used to this languidness, this desire to simply be, not do, but it’s pleasant in its unfamiliarity.
Even so, she remains an early riser. She is determined to take her time, however. No pressure, no rush, only the cool water lapping against her skin and the rays of sunlight streaming in from the window. She wouldn’t mind spending her whole day in the bathtub.
Glistening rivulets run down her back when she finally steps out, and she reaches for her favorite fluffy towel, grateful for the snugness it provides. Strands of white hair are plastered to the sides of her face, but she will not bother with them for now.
The door creaks open and she peeks into the bedroom before quietly slipping inside. Loghain hasn’t moved an inch, still in deep slumber.
A small smile plays on her lips at the sight. Nights are hard, for both of them. Sleep rarely offers any solace. It’s easier when they are together, when they can find comfort in each other’s arms.
The thought casts a shadow on her mood. Again, she wishes they were different people, leading different lives. That they never had to part. That they were normal.
It has crossed Loghain’s mind too. He might have said nothing, but Araleen can tell all the same. His wistful stares are far more eloquent than his words.
Her eyes sweep over his sleeping countenance, gaze as soft as a caress. Black hair falls over his face like a curtain, obscuring the severe lines. His mouth, usually pressed in a thin line, is now relaxed, lending to his peaceful expression.
It is surprisingly gentle, his mouth. His kisses are slow, thorough. Easy to get lost in.
His words are gentle too. Araleen does not like words. Never did. But his are simple, honest. Words she can believe in.
Everyone she once cared about left her. Tamlen was taken from her; her clan, her family, abandoned her to the wolves when she needed them most. Ever since that day, she has refused to let anyone in. Whatever life holds in store for her, she decided she will bear it on her own. She will not go through the pain of losing anyone again.
Loghain is not an exception, because he has always been there. A missing piece that found its way back to her at last.
Bare feet pad silently across the room, sinking into the thick carpet. Her fingertips skim along his hollow cheek before her lips touch his.
A muffled sound escapes him, more appreciative than displeased. Her hand slides from his face to his neck, thumb tracing abstract patterns on his skin.
Only when she pulls away do his eyes flutter open. Araleen is smiling, a look of serene contentment gracing her features. How lucky he is to wake up to this sight.
“Good morning,” he greets her, voice hoarse from sleep.
“Hello.” There’s a playful glint in her blue-green eyes. “I should apologize for waking you.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Should you?”
She nods. “You see, I was very selfish. I wanted to look at you.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I wanted to look at you looking at me.”
An all too familiar warmth floods his chest. His fingers card through her damp locks, the sweet scent of lilies lulling his senses.
Araleen leans to the caress with a hum of delight. She radiates happiness this morning, and it is contagious. It both gladdens and humbles him to know he is the reason for her joy.
He sits up on the bed then and scoots over to make room for her. The towel slides off of her as she snuggles up to him, but they barely notice. It has become a necessity, this quiet intimacy that blossomed between them so quickly yet unhurriedly all at once.
Loghain takes both her hands and brings them to his lips. “I love you.”
Her cheeks flush a faint shade of pink. Their foreheads brush, their breaths already mingling. “As I love you,” she mutters and pulls him in for another kiss.
There’s something about Orlesian springs that makes her hope.