I was working on the chaptered fic when this popped into my mind and I just couldn't continue until it was down and out. It took a brief moment to write so forgive the possible mistakes, although I did have it proofread. Slightly angsty, post Blight fic. Alistair and a dwarf, though, not anything like my last one. What do you guys think?

LCailan

ETERNALLY

oooooooooooooooo

They had slain the archdemon together. That, in and of itself, bonded two people for life. But for them, it had been more than that, after all. Friends first, then fumbling awkwardly toward something more, something sweeter. Something that shouldn't have been during the Blight.

They saw each other still. She was a paragon now, so she mingled with those of highest power in all the land. He, the King of Ferelden, the bastard king, as he liked to think of himself. Two people thrust into greatness that neither had ever sought out. Perhaps it was the reason why they had found such common ground. No. Not the only reason. But the only reason that they allowed themselves to think of now, for any other reason brought back too much pain. Too much bitterness over what could have been, over what had been, and only whispers of things that almost were.

There were social functions to which he came, Anora on his arm, but his mind on another, his eyes seeking her, his soul yearning for her, for what had been and was no more. There were funerals for those slain, who had given their life to end the Blight. She would be present always on the arm of her husband, but seeking him, seeking another moment that was theirs, and theirs alone. For those moments had been few then, and even fewer now. They would speak, they would smile. They would exchange the usual pleasantries. She would charm everyone around them with the laugh that he remembered still. He would make those with them laugh, reciting those jokes that she had loved so much at one time. Their eyes would meet, flashes of feelings from another time, moments like snapshots in an album of memories. Snapshots of rain drenched landscapes, of burning fires, of the endless road ahead of them, which in the end, had not been so endless after all. Memories of whispered words and gifts given. Laughter wrought and smiles given. Touches, vows and promises.

Promises to love eternally.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Their children new each other, she was after all the most powerful dwarf in Orzammar. He was the Bastard King. Funny that. His father had sired a son he did not want, and he sired children out of obligation. Were they wanted any more than he had been? That, he did not know, but he liked to think on the irony. Their children, both female, bonded over their parents being Grey Wardens. Once upon a time, they would say, laughing and talking, and begging their parents to share stories of that time. Neither she nor he wanted to relive those memories, put away on the shelves of their minds, never to be retrieved again. And yet, at the same time a yearning existed in each of them. Maybe one story. One adventure. One tale of love. Maybe.

And so through those stories he was there with her as she told them, and she would see in her mind's eye his smile once again, and hear his laughter, feel his arms around her. She remembered the way he had gazed at her when she had rescued his mother's amulet for him. And the sweet, fumbling way he had with her the first night they had spent together.

He knew he would not see her for days at time, but whilst telling his own child of his time as a Grey Warden, he would not forget to speak of a long ago love, and he would once again gaze upon her loveliness, remember what it was like to hold her when she was afraid to sleep, how he had felt when first confessing his love for her. There would be recollections of heated skin, closeness only possible between two hearts which the Maker had created to find complete union only one with the other. There would be words remembered as they had whispered them in the middle of long nights spend together. There would be the feel of kisses once more, the skip of the heartbeat, the feeling that this…this would be worth it when all the bad was over. Those memories so long ago put away would never be forgotten. It was maddening. It was sweet.

For only in memories did they belong only to each other eternally.

The taint took him first. Years later, she would recall the day the news arrived. It angered her, for she had hoped in some way that he would let her know when his time had come. She too knew that her time was nigh - her nightmares were more and more frequent, more intense, more frightening. There had been a time, much too short in the span of life, where he had held her, soothed her, calmed her fears. That time was gone. He was gone. Had he ever been hers?

Already he was so far away. His touch not as poignant, her heart not as broken. Time did not heal, but it did soothe, dull the forever ache inside of her. Time could ease the burn within her but it would never erase him from a heart that had been his from the beginning. The funeral was splendid, travelers coming from all over Thedas. She traveled with half of Orzammar, a rare event for most dwarves, and when she arrived, she saw his daughter take the throne. Time had given her experience and maturity and Ferelden would be led well. She stood by her own daughter, on the arm of a husband who comforted her when the tears came.

He lay in repose, and she thought for a moment he was asleep. She remembered watching him sleep all those years ago, and as she stood next to her family the urge to touch him one last time, to brush his hair away from that angelic face was almost too much. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. After all the years, everything they had been through it seemed one chaste kiss would never express what he had meant to her, how she had only lived for the short time he had been hers. But in the end one kiss was the only thing she could offer, and so she did. One last kiss, one last breath of him before they took him away, heralding him properly for no one had been as brave and strong. She watched them take him away and tears finally came.

Tears that she had shed the first and last time the night they had said goodbye.

And now this.

Her husband put an arm around her and she allowed it, allowed him to believe what it was he wanted. He was a good man - he didn't deserve to live in the same misery that had been her life. He led her away, and she lowered her head, her mind with someone else. She was still alive, although her heart had stopped beating along with his. Her time was coming and she welcomed the thought. One day soon, she would join him. Then there, wherever that was, she would finally be with him again.

And this time, eternally.