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peopleofthedas2010-11-04 07:02 pm
Oneshot: Minstrels Lie
Title: Minstrels Lie
Rating: T
Characters: Alistair, f!Mahariel (Tesni)
Summary: When you're wooing someone, make sure the two of you read the same books growing up.
Notes: Written for my game!Alistair and game!Tesni, because I've had him sneak-kiss her six different times now, and the results are worse each time. (Refer to screenshot.)
Alistair paced back and forth on the edge of camp, watching Tesni butcher the doe she'd felled for dinner. He wanted to brush that little piece of hair dangling by her cheek behind one of her cute little ears, or run his fingers through the hair spilling red and loose down her back. He could rub her shoulders, or her back, or--
--have a bath. Yes. Bath. He spun for the pond they'd camped near, then remembered that Leliana and Wynne had gone down already.
Hygeine was overrated, anyhow. Wynne complained, and he washed behind his ears, and in five minutes smelled like the inside of a hurlock, anyway.
“Hey, you look... alert.”
Alistair looked down and realized he was standing beside Tesni. “Oh, uh. Just—walking. You know, that thing I can never get enough of.”
“Sit down,” she sighed, and he obeyed.
But he'd forgotten about that strange Dalish insistence that being near someone was being companionable. Tesni went back to gutting dinner and made no effort to talk. So now he was sitting even closer to her, where he could think about tracing the tattoo that split her lower lip and chin. Her skin looked really soft.
“You're staring,” she observed, and he hung his head.
“S-sorry. I just was thinking.”
“So spit it out.” She flicked her knife, sending a spray of blood into the fire, before continuing quartering the doe.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
Tesni looked up from the doe and rested her wrists on her knees. “Do you think this is the time to ask it?”
There was a fleck of blood on her cheek. He wanted to wipe it away. “If I waited for a good time, we'd never talk.”
“Hmph,” she replied, which meant she was agreeing with him.
Alistair ran his hands through his hair. “I was wondering if you... liked me. Had feelings for me,” he amended when he saw her eyebrow raise.
She set her knives down and inspected her bloody hands. “You tell me.”
Oh, Maker. He hadn't thought far enough ahead to prepare himself for actually admitting it. What came out of his mouth sounded like a slow stream of stammers to him, but it seemed to make sense to her, because she was grinning.
“But I was wondering... if you thought you might ever feel the same way?”
Tesni gave him a long look, studying his eyes and hair, before rising to tend the fire. “It's too soon to say,” she muttered at last, and focused her attention on banking the flames.
She hadn't said no. Alistair hadn't thought about what he'd do if she didn't say no. And that smile, and the way she'd looked at him.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Is it too soon for this?”
And then his lips were against hers, and he did slide his fingers into her hair. His eyes closed and he waited for that feeling that would consume him, and sweep him off her feet, and make her swoon, or... or whatever it normally did.
It would have been easier to find said feeling had Tesni actually responded to his kiss. As soon as he pulled away nervously, she frowned at him. “What do you think you're doing?”
“Isn't this the part where the gallant prince convinces his beloved that she's mad for him and they abandon all reason for the sake of their relationship? That's what is says in the stories, anyway.”
Tesni shook her head. “Not in any of the stories I grew up hearing.”
“So how do I do it, then?”
She chewed on her lip. “You'd... bring me a boar, or a buck, or.... Can we forget about this? You're not Dalish, so it doesn't count, anyway.”
“I baked you a stew last week!”
She snorted. “Don't remind me.”
“Look, Tesni. All jokes aside. I like you. That way.”
Her blue eyes met his. “You really want an answer right this moment, don't you.”
“Y-yes.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Fine. Then no, I don't. Now go wash up for dinner.”
That's how Alistair learned that it was possible for venison to taste bitter.
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*giggles hysterically*
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Well, I for one no that nothing gets me to confess my undying love and affection like a dead mage.
One of the worst places he's given it to one of my characters was right in front of the saggy gross Broodmother... so this giant bloated pink used-to-be-woman makes you think of me... thanks, boo.
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