Archive of Our Own ^beta

     Salem is hurt.  No!  Run, Leliana.  Run and get to her.  Merde, this is a lot of blood.  But the last hurlock is dead.  I sliced its throat open myself.  I am here, Salem.  Keep your eyes open, my darling.  We need to keep you awake.  Don’t try to speak.  Just… look at me.  Yes.  Like that.  Let me see those gorgeous, cherished blue eyes.  I am here, my darling Lady Cousland.  Yes, that’s right, smiling is good.  That is our joke, me calling you a lady like a member of the Orlesian court.  You are so unladylike, wielding your sword and your practical braid.  Your scars.  Do you know how beautiful you are, Salem?

     Yes, even with the blood.  It seems you are highlighted always by blood.

     Here is Wynne, and - what?!  What’s happening?  Why are you screaming?  What is wrong?!  The magic… Wynne, stop!  Stop!  It’s hurting her!

     Salem, no, it’s hurting you!  What… what do you mean, you knew it would?  What?  Healing magic hurts you?  How?  Fine, all right, but only just enough so we know you’re safe.  Can you do that, Wynne?  Yes, all right.  

     All right.

     You are too heavy for me.  Alistair will take you to your tent.  There, now you are settled.  Rest now.  Yes, I know he’s in love with you, too.  We can address that another time.  Here, drink this potion.  It will help with the pain, and help you sleep.  Sleep, my dear Salem.  Embrace the meaning of your name and find some peace for a little while.

     Salem.  Salem, wake up.  

     Leliana?  Oh, Maker, I hurt.  What happened?  Oh, right, that hurlock snuck up on me.  I required healing.  I am sorry, dear heart.  I have kept that from you.  Healing magic… it has always been absolute agony.  I cannot tell you why, my darling.  Why can’t I tell you?  Because I do not know.  I have no answer to give.

     I am doing all right now.  Yes, it hurts, but no more than the thorough thrashings I sometimes take while sparring – I do not feel like death.  How is everyone else?  I saw Alistair take a shield to his face.  And Wynne?  She did not exhaust herself?  Good, good.  Dare I ask about Morrigan?

     Now.  How are you doing?  You are physically fine?  Good.  I know I frightened you.  It was not my intention.  I will try harder in the future.  No, I will try harder.  I know you think I merely take hits for everyone else without any thought for myself.  I am aware of the pain.  I am aware that it damages me.  But… I can’t be anything but who I am.  I am a Cousland, and this is how we are.  I would not ask any of you to take a blow that I would be unwilling to take.  I know you don’t understand, dear heart.  I am sorry.

     I am sorry I am always hurting you.

     Yes, okay.  I will stop apologizing.  Yes I can kiss you, my face is not what was hurt.  Yes kiss me again.  Please don’t stop kissing me.  You taste like raspberries and cream in the spring.  There is ever a pleasant, fresh scent about you.  You are like standing in the fields in the spring, a fresh breeze blowing my hair away from my face.  Why do you hold my arms down?  I want to hold you, I don’t care if it hurts and makes me wince.  What… what are you doing?  Your clothes… Maker, you’re beautiful.

     Keep still, Salem.  That’s it.  I want to do this with you.  Right now.  I almost lost you today, and I regretted that I had not done or said all the things in my mind.  I love you, and I would make love to you before anything else happens.  This can just be… ours.  Here, in this moment.

     I see your eyes on me.  Breathe.  It is all right.  Yes, that’s it.  Keep breathing.  You have seen this before.  And you refused, but I understand why now.  I thought you didn’t want me.  I thought myself repulsive.  But what you were refusing was the manner in which it was offered.  Now I see… I see the desire in your eyes.  This is not me offering my body to you, love.  This is me hoping to make you feel very good.

     I was so frightened of your refusal at first.  The scarring is… a horrid sight to see.  And when you refused me, it confirmed all my fears.  But then you held me all night… I felt so loved, so cherished.  Let me make you feel that way, as well?

     Did I ever tell you that your kisses taste how you smell?  Salt and sweat, steel and wool and leather.  You smell like a warrior, and it is ever so wonderful to be surrounded by this taste and scent that is you.  Kissing you is kissing the archetypal warrior of the stories I know so well, and it is lovely, and it is safe, and I can hardly get enough of it.  Always you are full of restraint, cutting off our kisses before they become too heated.  Lose control for me, Salem.  I long to see you and hold you like that.

     No, put your arms down.  This is about you.  And you are hurt.  I must be careful.  I cannot spread out on top of you, as much as I’d like to feel your naked skin on mine.  I can kiss you, however.  I can put my hands on you; ghost my fingertips over your breasts.  Maker, your throat tastes of sweat and steel and I love it.  I could stay here forever.

     Your breasts are like the most delicate of Orlesian pastries: pale and perky, finished on top with the most delectable of fruits.  They beg me to suckle them, to taste and lave and nibble, and who am I to say no?  Your gasps are so sweet when I do.  You are always so warm, and nothing about that changes when I taste your skin.  Your lips are the most gorgeous color of red in this low light, did you know that?  The sweet whimpers that fall from them… Maker, but it has been a long time since I have wanted to make love to someone.

     I honestly don’t think I ever have made love to someone.  I have writhed and moaned and whimpered alongside others – more than I care to admit – all as part of the Game.  I have allowed myself to be possessed, or to take possession of another.  I have participated with multiple people, and I have seduced many, only to withhold at the last moment, simply to drive them mad with desire.

     Marjolaine was the first person I ever bedded.  She held me down and had her way with me.  It was exhilarating, but I did not know any better.  One’s first time… it should not be like that.  I want to try to undo that now.  I want to give.  I want to please you. 

     Because I love you.

     You love me?  I love you, too, Leliana.  So much. 

     Your hands are like fire on my skin – they scorch with the most beautiful of flames.  Your mouth is hot and wet.  I have never… never quite felt this way.  I know you have been with many other people.  I have not been with as many as you, but there were a number of women in Highever I chose to spend my time with.  All of them were lovely, and giving, but… never did I have their affection like I have yours.  This touch, the care you give, the focus in your eyes and mouth… never has it felt quite like this, dear heart.

     I can feel something building inside of me.  I am trying to be good, to keep my hands to myself, but I so long to reach out and touch you, pull you on top of me, hold you in my arms.  But you are right.  That would be agony at this moment.  So I will be good, and keep my arms down, and try not to move.  You want to give me pleasure, and not your body for my use.  This is something I can accept.  As long as, once I am healed, I can return the favor.

     Many times over.

     Oh Maker above!  You hands venture lower, and I can barely keep myself still.  You keep reminding me to breathe with that smirk on your face, that glint in your crystalline eyes.  They are like the Amaranthine Ocean on the clearest of days.  They swallow me up and cradle me to shore.  I could get lost in those eyes.  But you won’t let me.  You keep reminding me I have a body, and somehow, even through the hurt, you pleasure it so.

     Your mouth follows your hands, and then your face disappears between my legs and all I can see are silky strands of red getting tangled with my own wiry hair in the low light.  But I don’t need to see, because I feel so much!  Your tongue, your lips, your hands… I close my eyes and tilt my head back and remind myself to breathe.

     Your tongue performs a dance, savoring every fold, eager to taste as much of me as it can reach.  Your hands travel back up, and you take my hands in yours, our fingers interlocking.  It is the most I am allowed, for to move my body too much is painful.  It is difficult not to, however.  I wish to match your rhythm with my hips.  All I can do is squeeze your hands and reaffirm over and over that we are connected and all, in this moment, is so right.

     A hot coil of pleasure is gathering deep in my belly.  It longs to release, but I won’t let it.  Just a little bit longer, please, dear Maker.  This… this is heaven, this beautiful anticipation.  I want to stay on this razor’s edge just for a few more moments, to be here with my love on the edge of this cliff.  The wind is wild and threatens to pull us over, but Leliana, my dear, dear heart, you know what I want and you pull back, leaving me there on the cliff with you and not pushing me over just yet.

     But soon it is too much and I willingly dive off that cliff, and you and your tongue help me fly to the ground.

    Yes, yes, that’s right.  Look at those red lips whimpering and calling my name.  Maker, to hear that… to see you lose control… Your taste is divine, and I wish I could stay here for hours just watching and feeling you feel such pleasure.  But you have fallen off the cliff of your climax, so I will enjoy guiding you to the ground.

     Your strong hands use mine as your anchor.  I know it causes you pain, but you can no longer keep your hips still, and they move against me.  Is it strange that it feels like its own kind of caress?  Like you are embracing me.  Your legs are strong around my face, and I cannot hear anything and I can barely take in sips of air, but I don’t care, I would not trade this spot, with this view, for anything anyone could offer me.  This moment… is perfect.

     You are coming down now.  You body twitches, your legs relax, and I can breathe and hear once more.  My beautiful warden, you are amazing.  Your skin is salted with sweat.  Your breath comes fast, your breasts rising and falling, the skin flushed a deep red.  I kiss you, cradle your cheek, kiss your damp brow.  You whimper at your taste on my lips.  You kiss me again and again.  Somehow your mouth tastes even better now, with the soft malleability of post-coital bliss.  Your mouth got dry while you panted and called out to the heavens.  I wet it for you now, feeling how cool the air has made your tongue and your lips.  Your face is flushed so beautifully.

     You are just so beautiful.

    You are so dear to me.

     I place your hands at your side, draw the blanket of the bedroll back over you, joining you and your insistence.  I cannot even begin to describe the soaring feeling inside of me.  My inside pulses with such desire, but I am also… sated.  You have let me give this to you, make you feel so very good, and now, as you catch your breath, I am content.  I am content for the first time in a very long time.

     With you, Salem.

     My Salem.

     My peace.

     I love you so much.