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“Do you ever think we should just stop this?”
She said it so softly that he almost didn’t hear her. The words were a lance to the heart as he realized what she’d said, and he sat up, pushing the blankets off himself and turning towards her. There was no amusement in his gaze as he said, “Why?”
They’d only been in Redcliffe Castle for a day, but they were already heading off in the morning. Denerim had been attacked and the Archdemon sighted. They had a long way to go and at the end the Blight would be over. At least, that was their hope.
Her dark eyes watched him in the dark, glinting when they reflected the little light there was. He fancied it was his own brown eyes they saw. Red locks streaking her pillow, she watched him from around a halo of hair. Beautiful, dangerous, and apparently cruel.
“I could die,” she said. “Where would that leave you?”
“Last I checked,” he said. “I was fairly self-reliant. Either way, could you really manage to die when you have such a handsome elf looking after you?”
She smiled, but there was no fire in it. She only looked sad. Normally he would joke, tell her a massage would ease that pain, perhaps recite some terrible poetry. He’d gone to her room earlier, but Morrigan had been there. What was going on?
“I think it would hurt you more than you think,” she said.
“Maybe it would,” he said. “But this can be solved with one thing.”
“Oh?” she said.
“Yes,” he replied. “You not dying.”
He smirked, hoping she would in return. He wanted this tension to go, to leave and for him to be able to lay back down and play with her hair and sleep.
“Thank you,” she said seriously, throwing the blankets off and sitting up. She reached for a kiss and left the room. He watched her leave. Something was different, but he didn’t know what.
She came back in a few hours and he held her. She came back after the battle, too.