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Lyanna Cousland never imagined she’d be the sentimental type.
Ever since she was a child she favoured brawn over practically any other alternative. Words like headstrong, stubborn, and hot-tempered were often thrown around when it came to Lyanna. One could never picture her in midst of a whirlwind romance, the kind you would find in the Orlesian romance novels her mother used to hide from her.
And after everything that had happened - her family murdered, the Blight unleashed, becoming a Grey Warden - she didn’t even entertain the thought anymore.
But when one Grey Warden, one bastard son of a king - with a flushed face and trembling hands - gave her a rose he picked all the way back in Lothering, Lyanna knew she was a goner.
And that scared the shit out of her.
She had taken to avoiding Alistair where she could, but it was becoming harder and harder to make it seem natural. She volunteered a little too eagerly for the first watch at camp, scurrying away before anyone could get a word in otherwise. Lyanna could feel her companions’ eyes on her back as she fled, their hushed whispers of concern (or otherwise, in Morrigan’s case) following her all the while.
So here she sat at the edge of the lake, picking at the grass and sulking, berating herself for being so foolish. They were in the middle of a Blight, for Andraste’s sake! She couldn’t afford to think like that, to feel like that.
But Alistair…
He made her forget about the troubles, the weight on her shoulders, the impending doom of the world. For those fleeting moments when he kissed her, when he held her, Lyanna thought it was worth it. He was the first person to make her laugh after she left Highever, his silly jokes and deadpan sarcasm bringing her back from the brink of losing herself in the grief.
Then, he kissed her.
Then, she fretted.
She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about this going wrong; it was morbid, she knew, but it plagued her dreams more than the darkspawn did. She thought about they everyone she'd ever loved had died, been ripped away from her. If that happened to her again, she wasn't sure she'd be able to move past it again. It made her head spin to think about it too much, but whenever she did, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach and her body began to tremble.
From behind her, she heard the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves rustling. She jumped, startled, her hand flying to her nearby sword. In a flash, she whirled around, still seated on the grass, only to see Alistair stumble back and raise his hands in surrender.
“Woah, hey, it’s only me,” he said, and Lyanna flushed.
“Right. Sorry.” She lowered her sword. “I was lost in my head.”
“Wynne was worried about you,” Alistair said by way of explanation. “She said you didn’t have any supper. So, naturally, she frowned at me until I came to check up on you.”
Lyanna frowned herself. It was hypocritical to think there was something wrong with Alistair, given the way he was acting, but it didn’t stop her.
“So, it looks like you’re fine.” Alistair kicked at the dirt and turned away. “I’ll let her know she can stop worrying. If that is at all possible for her.”
“No, wait.” Lyanna scrambled to her feet and took a few hurried steps towards Alistair before she paused. “You don’t have to go.”
“I wouldn’t want to disturb you,” Alistair said, turning back to face her. His face was blank, so far removed from his normal expressive self. Lyanna felt a twinge of something - guilt? - in the pit of her stomach.
“You’re not disturbing me.”
Alistair shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Lyanna flinched, her face heating up. She knew he was right, and that’s what stung the most. She was being a child; she was avoiding him where she could.
“I deserve that,” she mumbled. This had to end. She couldn’t keep this dance up forever, pretend she wasn’t feeling the things Alistair made her feel. She was a Cousland. She could be brave. But right now, she felt like a child.
Alistair didn’t leave, thank the Maker. He turned to face her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His normally expressive face was totally blank, like he was staring at her with dead eyes. Lyanna couldn’t stop her heart from racing, and she clenched her hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
“I’m just…” she glanced down at her feet, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m scared.”
“What?” Alistair sounded more shocked than offended. “But you never get scared.”
Lyanna snorted indelicately. “Of course I get scared, Alistair.”
“So what does this have to do with me? Do you think you need to put on a brave face in front of me? Are you scared of me?”
“What?” She snapped her head up. “No. I mean-maybe? I don’t know.”
“You’ve faced down ogres and darkspawn and werewolves without even flinching, and you’re scared of little old me?” Alistair tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Lyanna’s heart sank; she really had hurt him, and as much as he attempted to hide it and deflect it with his jokes, she knew.
“I don’t mean - I’m not -” she sighed angrily and rubbed at her temples. “Maker’s blood, I’m not good at this.”
“Look,” Alistair said, “you’ve made your point. I get it. This-” he waved a hand between the two of them, “-was a mistake. You don’t have to spare my feelings and make things up like ‘you’re scared’. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”
“But I am scared.”
He scoffed. “Why?”
“Because I’m falling in love with you and that terrifies me!”
She couldn’t stop the words from flying from her mouth, and when they did, her eyes went wide and she froze. She wanted to clamp her hands over her lips, to will the words back in. Instead, Lyanna closed and opened and closed her mouth again. It was too late to take it all back, too late to pretend it had never happened. She inhaled deeply, and released a huge, shaky breath. Too late to turn back now.
“Y-you-” Alistair was having just as much trouble forming a coherent sentence.
“I’m falling in love with you,” Lyanna repeated, feeling anything but brave. “Maker help me, I think I’m already in love with you.”
With every word, Alistair took a step closer to her, and Lyanna couldn’t move. Her feet were planted to the ground and she stared ahead, watching him move towards her like she was a skittish animal, ready to bolt away at any moment.
“You make me feel like-like I’m flying,” she said, her face heating up with embarrassment. Now she really did sound like a lovesick fool from a tawdry romance. “You make me feel like I’m on top of the world.”
She swallowed, her eyes finally meeting his. “And that’s a very long way to fall. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared about. My whole family-” her voice hitched and she choked down a sob. “If I let myself love you...if something were to happen to you, I couldn’t-I can’t do it again.”
Alistair pulled her to his chest and hugged her tight. As if on instinct, she wrapped her arms around his middle and buried her head in his neck.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled. “For the way I’ve been acting. I don’t really know how to - how to do this sort of thing.”
“To be fair, you did try your usual method of waving your sword at it until it goes away,” he teased. “But that’s not how people are supposed to say that, you know,” Alistair said, not even attempting to hide his grin.
Despite herself, Lyanna felt her lips twitch. “Oh? And just how are they supposed to say it?”
“Maybe a grand gesture,” he postulated. “Rose petals, candlelit bedroom, a locked door…”
“And what about the poor sods who are camping out in the middle of the wilderness?”
Alistair sobered, staring down at her with those golden brown eyes of his. They still sparkled with a glint of playfulness - of course they did - but Alistair was as serious as she’d ever seen him. He brought his hands up to cup her face, and Lyanna felt her heart skip a beat.
“I love you, Lyanna,” he said, softly, firmly, with no trace of hesitation.
Lyanna swore her heart stopped beating entirely.
“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” She meant it to be teasing, but it came out as nothing more than a whisper.
“Never.” Alistair’s thumbs brushed against her cheeks, his brown eyes pouring into her cold grey ones.
Lyanna kissed him once, twice. “I love you.”
He smiled at her, a grin so wide it had to hurt him. Her heart fluttered in her chest and her stomach flipped. They were so completely lost in each other, the Archdemon itself could appear in front of them and they’d pay it no mind.
Alistair chuckled to himself, and Lyanna raised an eyebrow. He kissed the top of her head and said, “I suppose I should say something cheesy and romantic now, shouldn’t I? Like, ‘I’ll always catch you,’ or ‘I’m your family now.’ How’s that?”
Lyanna hid her blushing face in his chest. “Needs work.”
His chest rumbled as he chuckled.
Tilting up to rest her chin on his sternum, she smiled up at him and squeezed. “You are my family now, Alistair.”
“That was cheesy,” Alistair said slyly.
“Then how about this?” she said, and stretched up on her toes to kiss him. “I love you.”
Alistair murmured contentedly against her lips. “Say it again.”
She rolled her eyes, but obeyed nonetheless. “I love you.”
“Once more.”
“I think it might be your turn now, selfish.”
Suddenly, Alistair picked her her up off the ground, twirling her around. Lyanna laughed aloud, her legs spinning wildly as she clung to him. His chest rumbled with his own laughter and, even if it was only for a moment, Lyanna was happy. Happier than she’d been since this whole tragedy began. No - happier than she could ever remember. She squealed with delight as Alistair spun, feeling light and free and happy.
She let herself forget about the dreams, the Blight, everything that was wrong with the world. For now, it was just them, young and in love. She wanted to remember this feeling for the rest of her life.
He slowed down, but kept Lyanna in his arms, her toes scraping the grass below. Pink blossomed on his cheeks, and now, nose to nose, she could just make out the light smattering of freckles that peppered his skin.
“I love you, Lyanna,” he whispered, before claiming her lips for another kiss, his fingers pressing into her waist. Lyanna sighed, and Alistair, emboldened by her response, nipped at her lip. Their embrace deepened, and she clung to him like a lifeline.
They stayed like that for minutes, for hours, Lyanna didn’t really know. All she knew was she never wanted to leave. She could stay by this lake forever, as long as Alistair had his arms around her. Blight be damned, duty can go hang, this is what she wanted.
“To tell you the truth,” Alistair said after a moment of silence, “you scare me, too.”
She tilted her head up to squint at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, pecking her forehead, “I’m new to this whole love thing as well. That, and I’ve seen you in a fight. Quite fearsome when you want to be. I would hate to be on the receiving end of that.” Lyanna pouted and reached down to pinch his backside. Alistair jumped and yelped. “Ow! See what I mean? Fearsome.”
“Oh, yes,” Lyanna said dryly, “fearsome Grey Warden Lyanna Cousland, here to stop the Blight with a pinch to the Archdemon’s bottom.”
“It certainly worked on me.”
“I don’t think there’s anything that doesn’t work on you.”
“Oo,” Alistair winced melodramatically. “That’s hurtful.”
“How will I ever make it up to you?”
His eyebrows rose before he smirked. “I can think of a few things.”
The hands that rested on his back travelled down lower, slowly. “Really? How many of those things involve going back to your tent so I can have my way with you?”
Alistair’s face flushed, and he coughed, suddenly bashful. He shivered when her hands found their mark, and Lyanna grinned wickedly.