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It was odd, being back in the Deep Roads.
He and Garrett had spent so long working to get there, determined to raise the money for Bartrand’s expedition, to make their fortune in dwarven treasure. From what he had heard, it seemed Garrett had made a relative fortune and Carver was glad his remaining family had somewhere comfortable and safe to live.
Obviously things hadn’t turned out how they planned. Bartrand’s betrayal, fighting their way back to the surface, his own brush with death.
Sometimes Carver wondered what he’d have done if he’d been given the choice. What would he have done if he hadn’t joined the Wardens on the verge of death, the Blight poisoning his body from the inside out? Would he have joined them if the choice had been his own, and not yet another choice circumstances and his older brother had made for him?
It wasn’t something he lingered on often. Life as a Warden was better than no life at all, and dwelling on what-ifs never helped anyone. He was happy as a Warden - he had friends, a chance to make a life for himself. And Alistair was one of the first friends he made independent of his brother, the first friend who wouldn’t always be comparing him in some small way to Garrett.
It was Alistair he found himself with now, trekking through passages as they tried to locate a new darkspawn escape point. A group of hurlocks had made it to the surface without being observed by the Wardens, and the Warden-Commander suspected they may have found a new one.
“You look like you’ve got a whole lot of… thoughts going on in your head,” Alistair called back to him, and Carver jumped, having not even realised he had stopped. With one final glance at the arched doorway that had caught his attention, thrown him right back to that one fateful trip with Garrett and the others, he hurried after his fellow Warden.
“Trying to drown out the darkspawn by overthinking?” Alistair continued as Carver caught up. “Doesn’t work, unfortunately. I’ve tried it.”
The darkspawn noise was another change to the Deep Road experience. With Garrett and the others, they had seemed almost eerily quiet, the only noises the echo of their feet and the occasional shuffling, grumbling noises of the darkspawn. Their voices, when they spoke, had echoed along the long, empty hallways, bouncing off the pillars and the piles of rubble that no longer stood.
The Wardens could sense the darkspawn, though, and the Deep Roads had no shortage of darkspawn. Carver didn’t know if it counted as noise if it was inside your own head but it was incessant.
“Does it ever stop?” he wondered out loud. Alistair shrugged at him, looking back over his shoulder.
“Nope. You get better at tuning it out though. Or… maybe I’m just used to ignoring whatever’s going on in my head. It does tend to be pretty full. Always full of thoughts and… well, now I guess darkspawn too.”
Carver sighed. Alistair smiled at him, a comforting smile that made Carver’s heart skip a beat.
“You should have felt it during the Blight,” Alistair said. “Darkspawn everywhere and the archdemon flying around Maker knows where.” He shuddered, turning back to the path. “I do not miss that. Ostagar wasn’t fun either, whole darkspawn army waiting just around the corner.”
He fell silent at that. Carver didn’t respond either. Ostagar hadn’t been fun for either of them, for a variety of reasons. While it sometimes was nice to talk to Alistair about it, something they had done a few times already, the Deep Roads didn’t feel like the appropriate venue.
He lived in awe that Alistair had actually fought the Blight with the hero of Ferelden himself. Despite having more than enough reason to let it go to his head - son of the former king, potential heir to the throne, saviour of Ferelden - Alistair was one of the most down to earth, honest people he knew, and the Wardens were lucky to have him. Carver felt lucky to have him in his life in any capacity, let alone as a friend.
The Warden-Commander often assigned them to work together. Carver suspected it was because Alistair was one of the most experienced wardens among them, and he the least, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. He liked working with Alistair. He made everything more enjoyable, even the things that weren’t at all pleasurable.
Lost in his own thoughts, he followed his companion through the maze of tunnels, wondering if Alistair would be interested in joining him for another game of cards later on.
Alistair turned back to look at him, his mouth beginning to open as though he wanted to say something as dimly, Carver heard a faint click. Before he had time to process what it could be, to even consider it, something hit him squarely in the chest, the air forced from his lungs as he hit the wall. Alistair’s body followed him, pressing him against the ancient stone as Carver gasped for breath.
“Trap,” Alistair said as the stones crumbled behind them, leaving nothing but an abyss in the path where Carver had been standing.
“Thank you,” Caver wheezed, winded. Alistair wasn’t small, and he’d hit him pretty hard, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.
The weight of him pressed against Carver didn’t make it any easier to catch his breath and his mouth went dry as he realised how close Alistair was, the closest he could remember ever being to him. The closest he could remember being to somebody in a long time, in fact. And the fact that it was Alistair left him even more breathless, an odd fluttering feeling forming in his stomach.
And Alistair was still so close, his chest against Carver’s, one hand on the wall beside Carver’s ear, making no move to step back.
They stood like that for a moment, unmoving, breathless, adrenaline coursing through every inch of Carver’s body. Then something inside him gave way and his face was moving down, lips pressing against Alistair’s. One hand slipped behind Alistair’s head, wanting to pull him closer, as close as he possibly could as he kissed him.
He sensed more than saw Alistair’s arm tense in response and he froze, pulling back, almost hitting his head against the wall behind him as he did.
“I’m sorry,” he said, fear spiking in his belly that one impulse decision, something he didn’t even realise he wanted until it happened, had just ruined whatever friendship he had formed with his fellow warden. But now all he could think was that he had just kissed Alistair. Alistair, son of the former king of Ferelden, hero of the fifth blight, Grey Warden. Alistair , his closest friend in the wardens, the closest friend he could ever remember having.
Alistair, who may never want to talk to him again now.
Alistair, who still hadn’t stepped back, still stood so close that Carver could see the rise and fall of his breath.
And then their lips were together again and Alistair was kissing him , his arms around Alistair’s back. The other man’s armour was cold under his hands, no sun in the underground to warm it, his hair soft under Carver’s fingers. Alistair’s lips moved against his as Carver tried to lose himself in the moment. He had kissed people before, only a handful but enough, but this felt different, like he never wanted it to end. It didn’t matter that they were in the Deep Roads, that every sense was screaming an awareness of darkspawn, that he now had no idea what the future would bring. All that mattered was Alistair and the way he felt under Carver’s hands, under his lips.
Something scuttled to the right, the soft sound of shifting rocks loud in the quiet. They sprung apart, hands jumping to their respective weapons with practised ease, and Carver let out a nervous laugh at the sight of the startled nug disappearing into the tunnels.
Alistair cleared his throat and Carver rubbed his face nervously.
“So,” he said, otherwise lost for words. “Uh… I should probably thank you for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”
“I’m glad it’s appreciated,” Alistair grinned at him. “I thought I’d help you avoid an untimely death and all that. It’d be a terrible waste to let you fall to your doom.” The grin dropped from his face though. “Maker, I think my heart nearly stopped though. Please don’t do that again.”
“I’ll do my best,” Carver muttered, suddenly hyper aware of every single part of his body and completely unsure what to do with it. Why was it so hard to know what to do with your hands? With your feet? “I’m... I don’t know why I kissed you. I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Alistair’s ears turned red. “Well, I can’t say I minded that part. You’re welcome to try that part again. If you wanted to. No pressure of course.”
“I think I’d like that,” Carver admitted, trying to ignore the fluttering continuing to grow in his chest. “We should probably keep looking for darkspawn now though. Finally get out of these damned tunnels.”
Much to Carver’s delight, however, Alistair showed him exactly how much he wouldn’t mind a repeat of that kiss before the pair of them moved on.