So there’s approximately a 0% chance that I will ever finish or publish this fic because I definitely do not have the time/patience/ability to be a writer, but I’ve been feeling super nostalgic for it the last few nights. Here’s a first-draft snippet of the mess that is my Cousland/Alistair/Duncan found family scribblings. (Please be gentle, I’ve never actually posted any of my writing!)
The tent is almost stiflingly warm.
Her eyelids droop, lulled by the singing and the heat and the exhaustion of two week’s march. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes for only a moment. She alternates between brief seconds of resting her eyes and opening them fuzzily, determined to stay awake, but the men around the campfire are becoming increasingly blurred and shapeless.
She should find her way back to the tent, she thinks.
She doesn’t remember falling asleep.
When she starts awake, she realizes she’s slumped onto Alistair’s shoulder. There’s a wet patch on his jacket from where she’s been drooling open-mouthed. With as much discretion as she can muster, she licks the corner of her mouth clean and slowly picks her head back up.
Alistair, to his credit and to her shame, continues watching the festivities as though he had not noticed her weight on him or her sudden snort of consciousness. Her cheeks burn.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, casting a sideways glance at him. Alistair looks completely unperturbed.
“Long day?” He asks, playful amusement tinging the words, and she’s grateful he doesn’t draw attention to the wet spot on his shoulder or tease her for falling asleep on him.
“I - yes. I’m sorry, Alistair.”
He casts a sidelong glance at her, grinning. “I didn’t sleep right for a week after my Joining. Nearly fell asleep on patrol, nodded off right on top of my horse.” He stretches his legs out, flexing his toes straight, and scratches at his chin. “Would you like to go to bed early? I can escort you back to the tent.”
She stands, catching herself on the table’s edge when she sways unsteadily from the sudden rush of blood to her head. “No, no, I can manage just fine. Enjoy the festivities.” She smiles again in farewell and slips out of the mess, stuffing her hands into her armpits to keep the frigid chill off.
