She never thought she'd see him again. Not after all that had happened. Not here. Not like this. She could never face him.

As drunk as he was, would he even recognize her? The way he slurred as he spoke, ordering another mug of ale told her just how drunk he was. Yet they had spent so much time together. Months on the road with few others than themselves to fill the cold, lonely hours of the night with each other had ingrained his face, his voice, his touch into her mind. Had it done the same to him? Or had he forgotten?

She cursed herself for thinking such things. Of course he had forgotten. That was why he had come here, was it not? To forget.

It couldn't happen like this. She lurked in the corner of the Hanged Man, watching him drink and talk to another patron. The memories were too much. His smiles, his kisses. It took much of her strength not to sink to her already wobbling knees. It all came flooding back. She regretted everything and nothing.

Standing there, knees shaking, staring at the drunk who seemed only a husk of the man she once loved, and she knew what to do.

Her feet moved on her own, legs shaking. Before she knew it, she was sitting at his table, coal hair swept over her face to conceal her glistening green eyes.

Alistair hadn't been expecting anyone to join him. He was quite used to being ignored most of the time. He tended to stay in the back of the tavern, listening to other patrons. He especially liked the dwarf who would tell the crazy stories – what was his name? Varen? Vanik? Whatever.

He took another long gulp from his pint, waving it at the newcomer. "'ey," he burped, slamming the mug down on the wood, "S'not often someone decides to join me." His eyes narrowed at the woman. She was a woman, right? She looked so familiar, in her fancy armor and such. People like her always wanted something.

"You want s-something." He slurred. "Gonna' talk to me about the wardens and their stupid club, are you? Or did that bitch send you?"

The woman shifted in her seat. "No one sent me. You looked like you could use some company, that's all." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Alistair realized that he must have been acting rude. "S-sorry. That's awfully kind of you. Knew someone like you once. Kind of." He scowled. "The bitch…" he trailed of, taking another gulp.

"How does someone like you end up somewhere like here?" She asked softly.

"Someone like me? What am I like?"

"You used to be a Grey Warden, didn't you?"

"I'm also the prince of F-Fer-Ferelden, you know."

A chuckle. She sounded sad. And familiar. "Even more the reason why it may seem odd for someone like you to end up here."

Alistair pushed his mug towards his company, which she gladly took a drink from. "Oh, it's a long story." He paused, losing his train of thought. "I knew this dwarf once. Always drunk. I never got to be drunk." He frowned.

"Well you are now."

He snorted. "Yeah. But not drunk enough. I'm never drunk enough."

"It looks more to me like you're too drunk."

"You sound like Morrigan." He grunted, squinting at her. "You know… you look kind of familiar."

"You never did answer my question." She looked away, hiding behind a curtain of hair.

"Yes, I did. I said it was a long story."

She sighed. "All right."

"Why?" He squinted at her suspiciously.

She turned to him again and smiled. "It's just sad to see you waste your life away here, that's all."

"Why do you sodding care?"

He felt her hand rest on top of his gently. "I just… do. Let's just leave it at that."

"You're sweet. I knew someone like that, once."

She smiled. "So you mentioned. Tell me about her."

"Well, if it wasn't for her, I'd be dead. Think I'd rather prefer that, actually." He laughed. "I thought she was so wonderful. She was compassionate. She helped everyone, helped me. I was stupid to think so, but I thought she was perfect. Proved me wrong, she did."

"Did you… love her?" She breathed.

Alistair raised an eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. "I don't see why you're so…"

"Just tell me. Please."

"More than anything."

"But she hurt you."

"Aye. That's why I'm here." He waved his arm around, gesturing to the pub. "The world's knocked me down and I haven't gotten back up. I never trusted anyone like I did her."

She clicked her tongue. "Maybe she still loves you."

"I don't care." He spat. "I can't forgive her. She can rot for all I sodding care." His voice cracked, and he looked away, taking another swig of his drink. He slammed the now empty pint back down and stood.

"Look, woman, I appreciate the company, but I'd rather be alone. I'll just be going."

He started to walk to the door, but she grabbed his hand. "You can't." She pushed him against the nearest wall, pressing her lips to his. She spoke coarsely in between kisses. "You can't give up. Don't let go." Her body is pressed against his and her arms wrap themselves around his neck. "You have so much to live for. You deserve so much better."

Alistair feels tears welling in his eyes, though he doesn't know why. Her words sting and her kisses burn like fire. He grabs her shoulder roughly in one hand and pulls her waist to him with the other, holding on to her as if for dear life.

And he remembered. All that he had. All that he could have been. He felt more sober than he had in months. He remembers her touch.

"Do you still love me?" She breathes.

"Always."

This is my first Dragon Age fanfic, though the second one I've posted. It didn't turn out half as well as I would have liked and I'm horrible at writing drunk characters.

Constructive criticism would be very welcome. c:

Inspired by the song Wonderful Life by Hurts