So, TFH is on indefinite hiatus (I put an explanation in my profile if you follow that story and are curious) and this is my next little project until I iron out the details of a post-game fic. Camilia Tabris is my rather idealistic, naive, awkward city elf, all red hair and freckles. This is a prompt fic for her relationship with Alistair. Expect a lot of fluff, some eventual angst(and when I say angst, I mean ANGST), and a smattering of smut.

Oh, Maker, Camilia thought to herself, sweat cooling on her pale skin as she caught her breath, how am I going to look him in the eye after that? How could she have one of those dreams about Alistair? He was her only friend left, the only other Grey Warden... with the cutest dimples and eyes like honey and muscles-- NO. Stop. BAD, Cami. BAD. The elf let out a shuddering breath, wiping the perspiration from her brow, desperately trying to collect her thoughts. There was no way she was going back to sleep. Not after the images of... no, sleep was definitely not going to happen. Sighing, she sat up, pawing around her tent until she found an old shirt to towel off her body.

Deciding her time would be better spent fletching or reading or anything but stewing in those dirty thoughts, she tied her flame-orange hair back into a poor excuse for a ponytail, and scrambled out of her tent.

"You didn't have another nightmare, did you?" Oh, darn it.

Camilia's emerald eyes rose to see the main attraction of her subconscious staring back at her, brows knit together in worry. Despite the uncomfortable situation (unbeknownst to Alistair) her mind couldn't help but point out how utterly adorable that little forehead wrinkle was. He had already finished his watch, just as she had, and was obviously recently roused from sleep, evidenced in his half-lidded eyes and tousled hair, along with his rumpled clothing. It wasn't too unlike the images she had just moments before, and Camilia found her throat very dry all the sudden.

Still, she manged to speak. "Hello, Alistair." Smooth, Cami. Her inner self had been taking sarcasm lessons from Morrigan lately, it seemed.

Alistair's face seemed to relax somewhat, even though she avoided his question. "Hello, Camilia. Lovely night, isn't it?" he said, eyes casting upward, followed by an overly dramatic, wistful sigh. "Gazing at the stars is so much better than sleep."

She sucked on her pink lower lip before answering. "I-it is rather n-nice tonight. I d-don't really mind m-missing some sleep."

He laughed. "You wouldn't. I swear you haven't a bad word for anything." Alistair's words were teasing, but his voice was soft. Almost like when he talked about his time with the Wardens, but lighter. Before she could mull on this, he continued. "Come on, at least grace me with your company for awhile," he said, patting the ground next to him. "You can tell me all about the darkspawn being 'misunderstood' and how they just need hugs to stop their wanton destruction of Ferelden."

Camilia felt herself "hmph" at his words, managing a suitably disdainful glare that only lasted a half second at most when she saw his cheeks dimple; the glare melted into a bashful smile. She half-ran over to his side, plopping down on her rear gracelessly, the inertia nearly sending her careening onto her side in the process. Luckily, her quick reflexes saved her from being completely humiliated, though his giggling as she righted herself served to color her cheeks, regardless.

They were close enough that their knees were touching; she wasn't sure if she should pull away, or that would make him think she didn't want him touching her. Not that she wanted him to touch her... not that she didn't want him to touch her... Camilia rolled her eyes, frustrated with her own mind.

She narrowed her eyes at her fellow Warden. "I do not think the darkspawn n-need hugs," she declared, fully aware how petulant she was being. "but we don't know m-much about them otherwise... it is possible th-that we don't... understand them l-like we should."

Surprisingly, he nodded, stretching one of his long legs out before him. "You're probably right, come to think of it. Whatever their reasons – if they do have any – they still need to be stopped." Camilia returned his nod and he smiled. "I really wasn't looking to wax philosophical, though; did you have another nightmare, or are you going to avoid the question again?

"I... um. N-no. It wasn't a nightmare," she replied, avoiding his gaze and praying to the Maker her cheeks weren't as flushed as they felt.

"Oh? Thought I heard you thrashing about in your tent," Alistair commented; she could hear his brow furrowing. "I just had a normal weird dream. Something about cheese and flying dogs. Not scary, but I'm afraid to let my subconscious back in control just yet. That what happened to you?"

For some Maker forsaken reason, she lifted her eyes to meet that warm, honey gaze of his. "S-sort of," was her meek response.

Alistair seemed perplexed, but only for a moment. His eyes widened and he let out a bark of laughter. "Unbelievable. You had a naughty dream, didn't you?" Camilia's face felt like it was on fire and she heard the templar laugh again. "Hah! You so did, you little minx." Oh, Maker; she was going to die, she just knew it.

Camilia wanted to say something; defend her honor, or tell him off for intruding on her own very personal thoughts, or even just running off as to not have to listen to his smug chortles. However, her body seemed more intent on rolling in on itself: she drew her knees up to her chest, and hid her face, hands cradling the back of her head in a vain hope that the position would somehow make her disappear. Of course, it did no such thing, and Alistair was not about to let this go.

"About who, I wonder?" he teased, nudging her shoulder. "Hmm. Sten? That seems like it'd hurt; you aren't into that sort of thing, are you?"

Her eyes widened, snapping her head up at his words, a mouse-like squeak of terror leaving her lips. She shook her head vigorously; Alistair just grinned. Camilia didn't often get urges to hit someone, but she was so close to hitting him.

"Alright, alright!" His hands went up in surrender, dropping to his thighs soon after. "Well, you have too much class and common sense to be with Morrigan..."

"Alistair. Stop. I didn't--" Camilia began, only to be cut off.

"Was it Leliana?" he asked, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "If so, can I have details? Please?"

"No."

"'No', you didn't have a dream about Leliana? Or 'no' I can't have details? If it's the latter, you are a cruel, cruel woman."

Camilia rolled her eyes, scrubbing her hands over her face. "No I did not have a dream about Leliana." The words were rushed and muffled by her hand, but she managed to get them out.

"Oh-ho!" Alistair grinned triumphantly; why he was so victorious she had-- "So you did have a saucy dream."

She felt herself blink a few times, jaw hanging open. "I... but you... I didn't..."

Her fellow Warden continued as if she hadn't said a thing. "And since you denied everyone else... you had a dream about me?" he asked, incredulous.

Camilia bit her lip, averting her gaze. Oh, Maker; she was sure her cheeks were redder than her hair. What was she supposed to say? She didn't want to lie to him; he had to already know, anyway. She denied everyone else, and her deafening silence was answer enough. Daring to look in his eyes, she found him surprisingly serious, a slight pinkness tinging his cheeks. Emboldened by his own shyness, she decided to speak.

"I...hadasexdreamaboutyou; I'msorry," she rushed out, clenching her eyes shut to avoid seeing his revulsion.

Alistair was quiet for a long moment, only the crackle of the fire and their breathing breaking through the silence. The elf squirmed in her seat, gnawing her lower lip raw, until finally daring to open her eyes. He was still staring at her, though this time there was a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips; the slight slant made something in her stomach twist, and her extremities tingle.

"Well, in that case: I'm quite flattered, my lady." He inclined his head, seemingly serious. "I do hope I treated you well." Those amber eyes glittered with mirth and... something else. Something that made her heart speed up.

Before she could bite her tongue, she found herself replying, "Oh... yo-you did. V-very well." The moment the words were out of her mouth, her eyes doubled in size, as did Alistair's.

Clasping both hands over her mouth, she scampered back to her tent without a second look, vaguely aware of a string of chuckles permeating from the campfire. Camilia plopped on her bedroll face first, the cool pillow doing nothing for the molten lava that had to be covering her cheeks. Blindly, she groped for her blanket, pulling it over her body and covering her head, praying to the Maker this was just a dream.