Originally written for Alistair Telephone Game on tumblr initiated by Cullenstairshenanigans, but I ended up writing something else for it. So this gets to be posted now.
Disclaimer: I heavily relied on a headcanon thought up by grey-headcanons on tumblr for this piece.
Alistair sat by the campfire, staring into the wavering lights of dancing flames. The firewood creaked and cracked, occasional pops accompanying the bursts of fiery coal scattering out as the wood groaned under the heat.
It was the one thing that remained unchanged throughout their long travel, the campfire. The spicy scent of smoke wafted about, stinging his eyes and covering him with black soot, but Alistair didn't mind. Staring into the hypnotic flames, he could pretend that all was well.
He could pretend as if he hadn't painted the walls of his childhood home with buckets of rotting blood. As if the demented corpses hadn't crawled all over the peaceful village of Redcliffe. As if young Connor hadn't been possessed by a demon. As if.
Chilly wind howled through the camp ominously, its eerie screech making the campfire dance and shimmer wildly. He threw in a couple more logs into the golden flames, his mouth tightly drawn.
As if they hadn't failed to save the villagers of Honnleath. As if he hadn't just failed to save his friend Cullen's parents. As if his companions didn't know that he was a blighted Prince. As if.
The soft pad of her footsteps had everyone's head turning as Solona stepped out of her tent and walked over to join them all by the fire. Quiet smiles, content smiles found their way to everyone's lips at the sight of her – yes, even to Sten and Morrigan's lips. Maybe Shale too.
"Is dinner almost ready?" Her musical voice lilted, and Alistair turned his gaze to the pot boiling over the campfire – the rabbit soup he had completely forgotten about.
"Ah, probably?" He forced a grin onto his face, gesturing at the pot with a light voice.
"Leliana, did you let Alistair watch over dinner again?" Solona groaned as she sat down next to him, a playful wink letting him know she's simply teasing.
"He's the closest to the fire!" Leliana protested with a giggle, strumming the lute Zevran 'obtained' for her somewhere along the road.
"It's not that bad." Alistair complained, cocking his head at the soup. He really wasn't that bad – everyone would eat it regardless of the grumbling teases.
Silence fell over the small clearing once more – though perhaps it was a little bit more comfortable than moments before. Leliana strummed a quiet Orlesian ballad, her silky voice floating over their camp as each companions gathered closer together around the fire.
It wasn't long before Zevran joined in on Leliana's singing, his velvety voice winding around her silken voice. They laughed and sang, an unlikely harmony melding beautifully that brought smiles to the listening companions around the fire. The song grew more complex as each companion added their own sound to it.
Solona closed her eyes and swayed slightly with the thrumming rhythm, her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs. She loved to listen to their companions' sounds, he knew. She hummed quietly, basking in the mundane noise singing softly in the quiet, gentle night.
The oil and cloth made shhk noises as Zevran cleaned and sharpened his daggers, the gleaming edges of the wicked blades catching the firelight. The elf had his head cocked, a tender smile playing by his lips as he sang along with the bard's light melody.
Plink plink plink went Sten's blade as he tested it. The giant man sat with a permanent frown etched on to his face. But despite the frown everyone knew Sten also enjoyed this quiet time of the night when everybody sat huddled by the fire and kept each other company.
Morrigan's heavy tomes rustled with psssh psssh noises as the witch flipped the dusty pages. She sat a little far from the camp, but the distance she put between them was slowly shortening over time. Alistair knew the witch was listening to the song as well, her yellow eyes softening for few tender seconds whenever her gaze swept over Solona.
There was the tkk tkk tkk of Wynne knitting across the fire, her head tilted to the side and smiling whenever the bard and the elf reached the chorus.
The thmp thmp thmp of Shale's movements was the newest addition - their new companion still unused to the party's nightly habits. The golem watched them all with curious eyes, but never disturbed this strange song that floated around them all.
The comforting campfire crackled, the dried firewood going pop pop right beside the snort of her Barkspawn snoring and dreaming by her feet.
Alistair wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled, bringing her warm body closer. She sighed contentedly, her head readily falling to the crook of his neck. Sitting by the fire surrounded by his companions that he entrusted his life to gladly, Alistair supposed things could have been worse. The gentle song caressed his tired and grieving soul.
It was so peaceful like this, so perfect with her leaning onto him. Alistair wished that moments like these could stretch on forever, despite the Blight raging on all around them.
"Alistair?" She mumbled, her eyes still closed.
"Yes?" He kissed her hair, his eyes falling closed as well. Her citric scent mingled with the spicy smoke, a heady brew welcome and inviting, warm.
"I got something for you. A surprise, I suppose."
"Oh? Is it another statuette? Or maybe a cheese-wheel?" Alistair chuckled, nuzzling and peppering light kisses onto her lustrous ebony hair. He enjoyed the sweet fragrance that lingered over his lips, her unique scent simply intoxicating. "I could get used to this, you know."
"Mmh, I'll keep my eyes out for them." She smiled, her musical voice a song in and of itself. "Give me your hand?"
He showed his left hand to her, palm up and gave her a light squeeze on her shoulder with his right hand.
"All right, hit me with it – I'm ready." Alistair declared, drawing a quiet giggle from her.
But she fell silent quickly, her arm sneaking into her chest pocket to pull out something small. She fumbled for a moment before dropping something hard onto his outstretched hand. He peered at it curiously.
It took him a moment to realize what he was staring at, and a moment longer for his wheeling brain to actually convince him that he was indeed not dreaming.
"This… this is my mother's amulet! It has to be! But why isn't it broken?" The words tumbled out of his mouth, a little too loud in their quiet little clearing. Others threw curious glances towards them, but a small wave from Solona and they returned to whatever they were doing before.
Alistair didn't notice – he was too busy staring at the small amulet held in his palm. It was old, and not so expensive or important looking as those beautiful amulets worn by noble women, but it was a precious token for him. It was his mother's amulet – the one he's regretted for so long for throwing it against the wall. The one he'd fervently wished for all those lonely nights at the monastery, when his bunkmate Cullen comforted his muffled cries. It was the amulet he's pictured for years – every nick, every scratch etched deeply into his memory. It was his mother's amulet.
"Where did you find it?" He demanded, his tone perhaps a tad too sharp.
"I found it in the Redcliffe castle, in the study." Solona tilted her head back, planting a tender kiss on his cheek. Her head rested comfortably over his shoulder, her eyes settling on the amulet as well.
"The amulet was in pieces inside the arl's desk drawer. I took the liberty to mend it with magic since the arl had collected all the broken parts. I hope you don't mind, Alistair."
Alistair still couldn't believe it. His mother's shattered amulet. Whole. Unbroken. Exactly as he remembered it.
"The arl's study?" He echoed, staring at it in wonder. "Then… then he must have… found the amulet after I threw it at the wall, and kept it. I don't understand, why would he do that?"
Solona reached out, wrapping her tiny hand around his. Her warmth radiated into his skin, basking him with her gentle attention.
He turned his head towards her, his eyes meeting her dark ones. There were flames dancing within her eyes, making them shimmer in the dim light, deep and sparkling.
"Perhaps, you mean more to him than you think." She whispered, her rosy lips fluttering with each word.
He felt pulled into her gaze, seeing nothing but her sincerity, comforting and caring for him.
He loved this woman; more than anything in this world, even more so than cheese. A genuine smile found its way to his lips at that thought.
He looked down at his hand once more, the amulet sitting there as if it had been there this entire time. As if it's been in his hand for the past years he had fought against the bitter anger. Whole, unbroken. Mended by her magic.
"I… guess you could be right. We never really talked much, and then the way I left…" He breathed, closing his hand into a fist, clutching the amulet a little closer to his heart.
His mother's amulet, returned to him after all these years. He still couldn't believe she found it for him.
"You'll have a chance to talk to him again." She insisted, giving him an affectionate squeeze over the hand holding the amulet. Her eyes glimmered, flickering with flames.
"Thank you, Sol. I mean it." He breathed, burying his face into her thick curls and breathing in her fruity scent. He nuzzled, trying to hide the tears that were beginning to pool at the corner of his eyes.
"I… I thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity. Thanks, Sol. For fixing this, and finding it, and… everything. Really." Embarrassingly, he couldn't stop the way his voice cracked, his throat thick with his unshed tears.
"Don't mention it." She allowed her hand to drop away, her quiet voice a whisper.
They stayed silent for a few moments longer while Alistair tried to get his wild emotions under control enough to talk once more. He cleared his throat before starting again. "Did you remember me mentioning it?"
She nodded, her eyes sliding closed once more. "Yes, of course I did."
"Wow." He tried to grin, kissing her hair. "I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things."
Solona stayed silent, and Alistair pulled her a little closer to him. It was almost surreal, how the small token she gave him warmed his heart, how it melted him from within and washed away all the fears and grief, the rage and despair he'd felt since this whole thing started.
"You're special to me."
Solona's sudden words jerked him, turning his head towards her. In the golden camp light basking them both, Alistair wondered if that was a hint of red on her cheeks.
Maker, he was the luckiest man in the world.
A grin found its way to his lips once more, bright and happy.
"Awwww, you're special to me, too." He drawled, letting a little bit of light teasing tone to enter his voice once more.
Solona smacked his arm, huffing and turning her head away from him. He laughed, before drawing her into his tight embrace and kissing her lips. Her soft lips, her rosy lips that parted for him with a huff, and he knew her cheeks were flushed from the warmth he felt.
"Thank you again." He smiled against her lips, his breath tickling her lightly. He then kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. "I love you."
"You fools! You're burning our dinner!" Morrigan's annoyed voice cut sharply in between them, making them spring apart hastily.
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry." Alistair blushed, rushing over to the pot to stir the soup and wondering if it'd still be salvageable.
"Oh Morrigan, don't worry. It couldn't taste that much worse." He could hear Solona giggling, drawing a low private chuckle out of him. With his free hand, he kissed her gift and pocketed it, right over his heart.