FYI this Hawke wanted to die. He was a mage that romanced Anders and killed him and sided with the Templars, and all of his family is dead, and he did all the other bad things as well. Except giving Fenris back to the slavers. That shouldn't even be an option tbh. Oh and he looks indescribably scary.
Alistair shyly held out the rose he'd picked her before leaving Skyhold.
And she smacked him.
His head flew to the right, cheek smarting. Several of the dried petals drifted to the ground.
"How could you be so careless?" she screamed, her small fists shaking with anger. "How could you be such a selfless, idiot!?"
He turned back to her. Maker she was beautiful. Though they had matured since the time of the First Blight—her several times more than him—the hot-tempered spunk she'd nurtured from growing up in the alienage would often reemerge, rearing its head with all the fiery rage that got her into the Wardens in the first place. She was selfish, took what she wanted, made her choices on a whim, and didn't care what anyone else thought. And her loved her for it.
His whole life he'd let others make the decisions for him. Then he met her. She taught him to do what he wanted. So he rejected the throne, a title he never asked for, and embraced who he was. He was Alistair Theirin, the bastard prince, Grey Warden, a hero of the Blight, and husband of Sarah Tabris.
He drank the image of her in. Her small, round face with pointy chin and ears, ears she always complained were a too big, even for an elf, that he loved to kiss while lying in bed. Her careless, messy ponytail that she donned everyday besides their private wedding all those years ago. And her eyes, her dark brown eyes that could appear warmer than melted chocolate if her mood was right, but could freeze over faster than the rivers of Du Lion.
To think he had been a breath away from never seeing her again.
"Alistair?" She said suddenly, anger dissipating and soft alarm rising in her voice. "Alistair honey, I didn't hit you that hard?" She reached up nervously to the red mark spreading on his face, fingers gently touching the fresh welt.
"Oh, no…" he said, realizing he had tears in his eyes. "I'm just so happy to see you, to be with you. This time for good."
Her lips quivered and pulled into a speechless smile. She grabbed him tightly, standing on her toes and wrapping her arms up to his shoulders. He didn't have the heart to tell her she was hurting his bruised ribs. He hugged her back, large arms easily swallowing up her small frame and let her sob hysterically into his unarmored chest. He inclined his head, burying it into her hair and breathed her in.
She pulled back and reached her lips up to his, their first deep kiss in what felt like years. Breaking apart, she brushed her pointy nose against his and whispered, "I heard what happened with the other Wardens before I got your letter. I thought you were dead. None of the others knew where you were, and some believed the rumors that you were a traitor. I couldn't handle it…after all we'd been through, everything we did for them! To think they turned on you so easily, that they followed that mad, elven witch!"
"Shhh…" he consoled her squeezing her tighter and ignoring the pain it caused. "I'm alright. I'm here now." He pushed her back a foot, hands finding their way and to and grasping her small shoulders, and looked firmly into her eyes. "And I am sorry. I'm sorry I left without realizing how bad the situation would be, I'm sorry I didn't write more letters, and I'm sorry I tried to sacrifice myself in the fade."
"You did what?"
"Okay, okay," he begged frantically, trying to pull her back as she recoiled from him. "I may have neglected to mention that part in my letter. But hey, the Inquisitor and I saved the Grey Wardens. And we're all are helping the Inquisition now! Grey Wardens back in the Maker's good books! Please don't hit me again."
"You offered to die in the fade?!" She was incredulous, pulling away frantically and whirling as if to smack him again. Her brown eyes were on fire. "In the fade, Alistair!? Not only would I never see you again, but who knows what would've happened to your soul! Maker, you are such an idiot!"
"Sarah, I love you." He said grabbing her and forcing her to face him again. The tears were running down her face again and she shook with anger. "But I have a duty as a Warden. We have duties as Wardens. Someone needed to stay behind so the others could escape. The Wardens caused all this, so it was only right that I was the one to fix it."
"How could you?" She cried, growing weak in his arms. "You're all that I have in this world. All that I care about. I became a Warden by conscription, but I chose to stay for you. I love you! You're all that matters to me!"
He sighed and looked down. He'd said it before: she was selfish. But he knew it wasn't true. She saw the Blight through to the end, risked her life numerous times to help others, won Ferelden over at the Landsmeet. But through it all he'd been her anchor. She'd told him that the last night they shared before the final battle with the Archdemon.
He was her reason she chose to fight.
And without him she didn't want to go on living.
That's why she encouraged him to stay a Warden, that's why she begged him to do the ritual with Morrigan—he still shuddered at that memory—that's why she insisted to find a cure for the calling. And that's why she couldn't fathom that he felt obligated to die for a bunch of strangers.
He loved her deeply, but doing what was right had to come first. Otherwise he didn't want to go on living.
"The Wardens caused this, Sarah." He said quietly, dropping his gaze. "But the Wardens can fix it. That's why the Inquisitor and Hawke insisted I survive. We need to rebuild the Wardens. We need to right our brethren's wrongs and help stop Corypheus once and for all."
"We need to rebuild." She sighed, shedding her anger like a snakeskin. "We need to get the hell out of Orlais, Alistair…"
"Leliana wants you to help." He said, reaching out and squeezing her small hand. "She said she tried finding you before, originally wanted you to be the Inquisition's leader, but someone must have intercepted the letters."
"Just like Leliana…" she growled playfully, looking away. "Thinks I'm always the answer, a god-send from the Maker himself. You know I wouldn't have accepted her request, right?"
"Of course, sweetheart." Alistair said affectionately, squeezing her small hands that somehow found their way into his. "But then I would have appealed to your greater sense of good and we'd be the ones roosting in Skyhold now. And besides, Morrigan's signed on. A little too willingly if you ask me."
"Morrigan? Really?" She challenged, ears twitching. "This Inquisitor, this whole Inquisition, it's good, isn't it?" She said looking away for a moment, in thought. "Your word is the one I trust above all others, and what you've told me about her is good. The Inquisition…I thought at first was a mistake. Well, maybe not a mistake, but a futile move that was bound for disaster. But she's done well, and she's fair. And she spared the Wardens."
"Enticed the scary witch to join." He added smugly, nuzzling her hair. "Brought me back to you."
"And she's and elf." She cocked her eyebrow playfully. "That's always a plus."
"Dalish elf, sweetheart. You know, the 'superior elves' we're all so fond of."
"Oh, well then we're all doomed." She bit curtly.
"What?!"
She laughed impishly, pulling one hand from his and leading him back to her tent. "I'm kidding, Alistair." He quivered at the sound of his name on her lips. "Remember I sometimes do that when I'm not yelling and slicing Darkspawn in half?"
"So will you come help the Inquisition? Will you rebuild the Wardens with me?"
"Of course I'll rebuild the Wardens!" She exasperated, almost sounding offended. "But joining the Inquisition, well, that might take some convincing. Besides, we have some catching up to do." She smiled and opened her tent's flap suggestively.
"Catching up?" He asked with a laugh. "Wouldn't you prefer to talk out here? It gets so stuffy in—ooooh."
"Tent, Alistair. Now."
"Yes, love." A stupid, irrepressible grin spread across his face. But he didn't care. After all, she'd always found his awkwardness endearing.
No matter what he saw or heard in the Fade this time, it was moments like these that reassured him the Maker was real.