A/N: I am a sucker for homecoming stories. Have another one. This one features Eleanor, who is my Cousland and Alistair's daughter born before Ellie Cousland goes on her quest. Bearded Alistair is from concept art, but this was inspired by forsakenvow's artwork ( image/118637475107) and picchar's dialogue wheel ( post/118807100131/thinkdragonage-picchar-what-if-alistair-lets).

"We're going to arrive in Denerim right in the middle of dinner," Oghren grumbled as they walked. "I know you're a super human, Couscous and you can sustain yourself on the blood of your enemies and the smell of mabari, but some of us need beer!"

"You planned it this way on purpose, didn't you?" Nathaniel accused. "You're going to burst into the palace hall while everyone is there."

Ellie hid a grin. "I don't know what you're talking about Nate. Things just worked out. And of course I'm going straight home."

To tell the truth she was proud of herself for her timing. She had slipped out in the middle of the night, like a thief, telling no one but Alistair and Eleanor she was going. She wasn't sure if she had been more afraid people like Arl Eamon would try to stop her or be glad to see her go.

But now, over a year later she was home, the palace loomed ahead of her and she walked with a spring in her step. The entrance she was about to make was just a bonus to the fact that in minutes she would see Alistair and their daughter.

She really did love big entrances though. She and Alistair were larger than life heroes, she felt like she ought to play the part.

The guards squawked in surprise as she swept up the steps and into the great hall, she shot them a knowing smile, and then gestured for them to throw open the doors. They did with a bang and she strode into the hall.

She had planned for a hush, in which she would smirk and walk up to her place, cool and collected until she reached Alistair. Everyone would be too busy staring to notice the impropriety when she swept him off his feet. Not that Ferelden's royal couple was known for good behavior, but still, even after over ten years some of the nobles still frowned on the disgrace that their king and queen were actually in love.

She had not planned on standing there gawking at Alistair like a starstruck girl, mouth open.

Maker's breath, his hair was long, brushing his collar and he had grown out a beard, a proper beard not just the stubble she was used to. He looked older, tired, with more lines on his face, but he had been listening seriously with an ever so slight smile to Eleanor who was telling him something with an intense look on her face. Ellie resisted the impulse to fan herself. He looked different. He looked good.

She was forcibly reminded of the first time they had met.

"Go find Alistair," she had muttered to herself. "Probably another cantankerous old man." And then she had stepped into the ruins and seen him, not at all an old man, even if as she would tell him years later he had an old man's name. Instead someone young. Handsome. She had stared at him open mouthed that time for a moment too, only there hadn't been any witnesses and he hadn't caught her.

He had really done it this time.

"Ellie!"

He sped to her, crushing her to him in a tight hug, burying his face in her hair.

"You're back. Maker's breath you're finally back." He pulled his head up to look down at her, adoration written all over his face. She was suddenly tongue tied, torn between the deliriously happiness that she was back and sudden, unbidden uncertainty, he hadn't been happy she was leaving, it had been so long, he looked so different-until he smirked. "Dear, your mouth is still open."

She shut it with a snap, cheeks red, but a grin spreading from ear to ear. That was more like the Alistair she knew. "This is new," she said brushing his cheek and then the curls of hair touching his shoulders.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Make me look kingly and noble and-"

She took advantage of his open mouth and monologue to kiss him. He tightened his hold on her and kissed her back, gently at first, than far more passionately than he had any right to in public. She giggled as his beard scratched her face. It was new, different, but there was no denying the familiarity of his hands on her, his mouth on hers, the utter safety and security being in his arms brought.

Behind them someone wolf whistled, probably Oghren, but the guards and a few of the nobles, the young ones, the ones who had come up during the Blight and remembered the stories, were cheering.

Ellie broke away, face flushed, looking up at him. "You were saying?"

"Eleanor doesn't approve either," he said mournfully. Their six year old was standing behind him now, looking up at her slightly suspiciously. "Isn't that right pup?"

"I didn't say I didn't approve," she murmured.

"It's scratchy," Eleanor said with a pouty face. "But I can braid it." She pulled a fistful of ribbons from somewhere. "See Mama?"

Ellie held out her free hand to Eleanor, scooping her into the embrace. "You make Papa look beautiful, I'm sure."

"I do."

"She's a terror, I wonder where she got that from?" Without giving her time to respond, Alistair wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned back to the hall. "And now I'm sure you will all be so kind as to excuse myself and your queen and princess for the rest of the day. Possibly longer." There was scattered laughter. Ellie elbowed him gently. "Eamon," Alistair glanced over at the Arl who had come to stand nearby. "No one bothers us, unless the palace is burning down. Not even for another breach. Not even if there's an archdemon howling outside our windows. Andraste be my witness I don't care if the Maker himself shows up."

Together they turned to leave the hall, Eleanor clinging to her hand and Alistair's arm tight around her waist.

He put his lips to her ear. "So, my dear, are you going to hold me down and hack off my golden locks? Because I remember that time you gave me a haircut on the way to the Landsmeet and nearly hacked off my ear, so you'll forgive me if I doubt your qualifications."

She reached up to fluff the front of his hair up and forward into some semblance of the upsweep she had always called his ducktail. "Oh I don't know love. I could get used to it I suppose." She grinned up at him and put her head against his shoulder. "It may take time."

They reached their rooms and Eleanor ran off in search of a brush, shouting at them to wait for her and for him to sit down.

"However will I help you become accustomed?" he asked a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pulled her down to sit with him on the couch, her legs draped over his lap, before nuzzling his face against hers.

She sighed heavily. "Only time, and kisses, will be able to do that I suspect."

"It will be hard, but for you I'm sure I can manage," he teased, kissing her again. She twined her hands in his hair, humming her approval into his kiss.

The return of Eleanor, and her incredibly dramatic retching noises made them break apart, Ellie with a rueful grin. "Papa stop. Kissing is gross."

Alistair made a face and tucked Ellie under his arm, then presented his head to Eleanor. "Do your worst Princess."

Eleanor clambered onto the couch and with a look of fierce concentration began combing his hair. "You can go next Mama."

"Should I be worried?"

"Well she does take after you," Alistair drawled. "So watch your ears." Ellie laughed and he pulled her closer to whisper in her ear, beard tickling her face. "Welcome home, love."