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“I swear to the gods, I didn’t tell him to do that,” Orest chuckled, looking over at Morrigan. He stretched his arms up to the star-filled sky, relaxing against the dirt. She’d forbidden him from lying on her wolf pelts, but that hadn’t stopped him from enjoying her presence.
“And why should I believe you, hmm?” She asked, not looking up from her task. She was slowly cleaning the remains of undead blood from her many pieces of intricate jewelry. “A man who cannot cease his flirtations suddenly becoming a lord of repentance as soon as his highly trained hound drops a hare into a lady’s unmentionables?” He snorted out a laugh. “‘Tis a most suspicious thing.”
“Fen’Shem must’ve thought it would make you like him more,” he grinned, looking at her with unashamed affection. “He’s a hunter, same as his dad,” he chuckled as he put a hand to his bare chest. When in camp, he rarely walked around in more than his usual leather skirt. That, at least, caused far less chafing than the top half of the armor.
“Oh, how sweet, you think of the mutt as a child.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I see he has inherited his father’s intelligence.”
Orest laughed and reached over a hand to playfully shove at her thigh. “You’re so mean to me, shem,” he said, smiling. “I think you secretly think I’m smart.”
“And what reason would I have to pretend to think you dumber than you are?” She looked at him, raising a thin, black eyebrow. Her yellow eyes glowed, almost like an elf’s, in the firelight. “There is already one fool man in this rag-tag group of yours, why should I ignore some glimmer of intelligence? What reason would I have?”
“I will not pretend to understand your wily shemlen ways,” he shrugged, chuckling. “After all, your intelligence is far greater than mine.” He paused. “Or… is it?” He raised and lowered his brows a little, making his vallaslin shift on the warm brown skin of his forehead.
“It is.”
Orest just laughed at her soft pout of determination. He was clearly distracting her from her work, but the fact that he hadn’t taken a zap of lightning to the face was proof that she didn’t mind his presence. He watched as a lock of hair, loose from her bun, fell into her face. She scowled and pushed it back behind her rounded human ear. Creators, he thought, she’s so pretty. It frightened him how easily he was falling for her. Part of him was still in denial. Clearly, he just needed somebody to latch onto, something to hold when everything around him seemed to be falling apart more and more by the day. Tamlen hadn’t even been dead a month—and even then, a large part of his brain, of his heart, refused to believe Tamlen was even dead. He wasn’t dead, after all. He tried to ignore the thoughts of what could have happened if the Taint ran through a person’s body unchecked by the Joining.
“It isn’t often that I see you so contemplative,” Morrigan said, her voice a low, curious purr.
He snapped back to the present, blinking away the images of blond hair and pointed ears and Dirthamen vallaslin. “Sorry about that, my shemlen princess,” he said, putting the smile back on his face.
She made an annoyed little noise. “Why did I say anything?” She spoke as if only to herself. “The peace and quiet was a welcome change.”
“You like me being here,” he said, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow. His long black hair pooled on the grass. “Don’t lie.” She didn’t reply, and he kept talking. “You would’ve kicked me out a long time ago if you didn’t.” He sat up and leaned forward on his hands, their faces only a little more than a foot away from each other. “You like it when I talk to you.”
“You… may be better conversation than the others, ‘tis true,” she said, not looking at him. It was hard to read her without the help of any elven ears, but he could tell that she was perhaps a bit flustered by the way she focused so intently on her jewelry. “However, ‘tis not as if you have much competition. I’d rather the man who thinks it amusing to shower me in compliments than the woman who prattles on about the Maker.”
“I’m not doing this as a joke, you know,” he said, his voice low and soft. That got her to glance up at him. “I really do think you’re beautiful.”
“I am not so blind as to be unaware of the fact that I am beautiful.”
“That’s good.” He smiled at her, leaning forward a little more. “Although it does spoil some of my plans…” He pretended to pout.
“What plans, elf?” She asked, looking at him fully.
He sighed, melodramatic, and looked away. “I was going to buy you a mirror, but if you know what you look like already…” He saw, out of the corner of his eye, her eyebrows raise slightly. “Of course,” he continued, “it doesn’t hurt to get some confirmation, does it?” He looked back at her, taking in the slightly… softer look on her face. As if she was genuinely listening, genuinely interested in what he was saying. “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“If you wish to waste your coin on baubles for me, I am not going to deny you,” she said, letting out a small laugh that made his heart flutter. “Even if I think it foolish.”
“You seem to like foolish.”
“I will not deny that it has its… charms,” she purred. Her eyes flickered down to his lips.
“I’m glad you think so.” He leaned in a little closer. He could smell the tang of metal and the Wilds on her—an earthy, animal smell. He inhaled. It reminded him of home.
“Your nose is twitching like that of a rabbit, elf,” she smiled, leaning a bit closer. The space between their faces was quickly shrinking.
“Did you just call me a rabbit, shemlen?” He teased, his grin giving away his lack of offense. “I’m offended. I didn’t take you for a bigot.” His voice was low and, he hoped, seductive.
“With the way you carry on, I feel like the ears are the least of your leporine qualities,” she reached out her hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, making a shiver run up his spine.
He hummed out a low noise. “You know I don’t know what that means, Morrigan.”
“I have much to teach you, then,” she sighed, but the interest in her voice was clear.
“I wouldn’t mind having you as my private tutor,” he said, his voice a low whisper. “Do you… object to that?”
“Not unless you stop,” she said.
He couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and closing the gap between their lips. Her lips were full and soft against his own. The hand that had been behind his ear moved to cup his jaw. He couldn’t pull away. Not that he wanted to. His eyes were closed, and he let his body take control, shoving his brain to the wayside. Thoughts about the last pair of lips he kissed would not be appreciated. Morrigan pressed further against him, the hand on his jaw quickly becoming firm on the back of his neck, twisting in his thick, black hair and pulling his body closer against his. His eyes opened slightly, meeting hers. He felt her smile against his lips as she pulled him further until his bare chest met her scantily-clad one. Bright yellow eyes were lidded slightly, and he could read their intentions easily.
He pulled away, gasping for breath. His face was warm, his lips wet, and his eyes wide. “Sorry that I… stopped,” he said, laughing almost nervously. “I know that was… the one thing you said not to do.”
“I hardly expected you to listen, elf,” she purred, a pale white hand trailing down his muscled bicep. “But I shan’t go further than you wish.” Her hand came to rest on his leather skirt. “Tonight, at least.” She looked at him through her long, black lashes. “You play a dangerous game, elf.”
“At least it looks fun,” he said back, letting out a small chuckle. “Besides,” he smiled, trying to build back the teasing reputation he had established with her, “I don’t want this to end so quickly.” He put a hand on her hip.
“You fear you shan’t last long?” She asked, tsking her tongue and putting on a voice of false pity. “‘Tis a shame. I heard Grey Wardens are renowned for their stamina.”
He laughed. It was genuine. “Not in that way, shem.” He leaned forward and kissed her the lily skin of her neck. “I’d hate to give you what you so clearly want right now when I have a whole Blight to spend.” He nipped at her ear, hoping that it was at least slightly sensitive. She shivered, and he took that as a good sign. The fire was still crackling only a few feet away. “You get that, right?”
“Impress me,” she purred, two cold hands running down his back, “and I shall entertain the thought of a repeat performance.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“If that is all for tonight, then,” she said, pulling back. “I have tasks to return to. I presume you have forgotten that I was in the midst of cleaning my jewelry when you barged into my tent.”
“Maybe a little,” he smiled.
“Goodnight, Grey Warden.”
“Night, Morrigan,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Sleep well.” He stood up. “If it gets too cold out here, you know where to find me.” He winked at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Begone,” she huffed, but she couldn’t hide the way her lips quirked up at the ends.
He grinned and did as she commanded, slinking his way across the camp and back to his own tent. His mabari looked up at him, tilting his head in question. Fen’Shem’s wet nose pressed against his hand, inhaling the scent of a human still lingering. He gave the dog a few idle scratches behind the ear and let out a sigh. He hated how his heart was still racing in his chest, full of new, exciting feelings, while his stomach knotted in on itself, aching and fighting him for kissing someone new while his love for Tamlen was still so deeply seeded in his soul. He laid down, curling on his side. Fen’Shem whined and pressed his massive body against Orest, trying to comfort his elf through some pain he couldn’t identify. He missed Tamlen’s smell, the sound of his laughter, the tumbles in the mud—quick and quiet and all before anyone could catch them. He yanked a thin blanket over himself and shut his eyes, trying to quiet the voices in his head trying to shame him for the things he couldn’t control. He sighed.
First, it was being in love with a man, he thought, groaning. That was unacceptable. His hand kept idly petting Fen’Shem’s short, rough fur. And now I’m falling for a shem. Creators have mercy…
He squeezed his eyes shut and thought about more pleasant things. As he drifted off to sleep, he hoped he’d have another vision of the Archdemon. To take his mind off things.