Work Text:
"Hahren na melana sahlin
emma ir abelas
souver'inan isala hamin
vhenan him dor'felas
in uthenera na revas
vir sulahn'nehn
vir dirthera
vir samahl la numin
vir lath sa'vunin"
She recites the words twice a day, turning poem into prayer, beside the altar she's made of his bed. She paints the honey over his lips every morning and nightfall, marvels at the blessing that it is to touch him again.
All day she sits by his side, still, silent. She sustains herself with the same honey and feasts on the sight of him.
There is grey in his long hair and more wrinkles on his forehead. He is thin, emaciated even, skin gone grey in patches and stretched tight over bone like cheese cloth. The spirit that had held his body (one of Fortitude because of course it was) had not twisted or misshappen it too much. What had been wrong she's made right- magic she never had until two months ago flows as easily as a breath now with the Veil torn down. She wills it into him as she sits vigil, waiting for him to wake. She has waited ten years and can wait ten more.
Time passes. She does not know if it has been weeks or years. Presumably the world still turns outside, but she cares not for it. Destroyed it, depending on who you ask, to have what she does now in this little cabin.
She trims his hair and beard, keeps him clean and warm. Lays beside him every night and holds his hand every day. More honey, more magic, more prayer.
Then he wakes.
His eyes open and her heart soars at the sight. She falls from the chair to her knees, kissing his hand, feels his thumb twitch against her cheek and it's so good after such stillness.
"Fi....?" His voice is uncertain and cracking from disuse but its him, her Alistair, still sounding so sweet and it's what finally does her in. She sobs, tears flowing like her magic down her face, and she presses more kisses from his palm to elbow.
"Fi?" He's moving and its probably too soon for that. Before she can protest hes already sitting up and wrapping his arms around her, running his fingers through her hair and she wants to melt into the bed and never leave his arms.
Finally she calms and they stay there, locked in an embrace, breathing together, his heartbeat under her ear.
"Fi?" Alistair asks and she looks up at him, ready for anything he might want. He looks confused but he smiles when he sees her, "What's happened."
Fiora frames his face with her hands, holding him in return.
"I saved you."
When she kisses him it tastes like honey.