Author's note. finally finished. Thank you for reading, everyone. Have a ton of fluff and feels.

xxxXXXxxx

Arl Teagan Guerrin was dignified enough to not run. It probably came from his upbringing – just prior to the rebellion, of course; the Maker knew he had learned to run very fast, very uninterruptedly when those days came. Still, those days were far away from him, in a past he could barely remember. All he knew since were Eamon's words, Eamon's teachings, Eamon's rules. Never mind the fact he hadn't seen his wife for months or that he had thought her lost a couple of times.

So, he walked – decisively, correctly, bluntly – in the direction of the newcomer. Properly.

Teagan found her exactly where he thought she would be. The waterfall had not changed much over the years – he had not exactly allowed anyone to meddle with it – and the tree which had marked their place still remained. At its feet, laid his Lady. A long braid curled over her shoulders, leaning towards her arm, glossy and dark, so dark he could barely see the white which had already begun to make an appearance. Her armor had already been discarded, replaced by a dark red dress which she knew him to favor and a carelessness he was sure the Commander did not display. Back straight, head resting against the tree behind her, hands splayed on the grass beneath her. He could see no weapons nearby, even though he was sure her every instinct screamed against the fact.

His breath halted for a moment, his heart seemed to quieten. There had been many times in which he had imagined this very same scene. Wondered. Would it happen? Where was she? Was she alive?

"I can hear you." Her voice was the same as he remembered too, down to the hint of amusement in between longing. Her lovely head tilted to the side in search for him, longer hair, darker skin, lines of exhaustion and bruises drawn in between and just as beautiful as when he first loved her. "Why are you waiting?"

Because he was a fool, that was why.

Before his mind could adjust to his body, Teagan had crossed the rest of the path to her, kneeling before the wearied woman. A moment, that was all it took to have her in his arms, finally drawn to his body where she belonged.

He breathed her in, tasted her lips, again and again and again, pushed her against the floor, melted against her body until he was sure he couldn't breathe if it didn't come from her in some fashion. His fingers tightened through her hair, pulling it out of her braid to swim around him. Maker. The gloves, why hadn't he taken them out, why couldn't he feel her skin, her bones, layers upon layers and there were too many between them. Teagan knew it was foolish. He knew she was there and safe and this possessiveness should not exist after so long in their marriage and still, he could not stop himself.

If she felt anything like Teagan, she'd want to hold on and never let go. It was so close.

That thought almost made him laugh against her lips. Everything in this life of theirs was so close, too close, neverendingly close. He was supposed to be safe, his children safe and sound, protected by tall walls and an army without end. Everything in this life of theirs was supposed to and yet, the Maker saw it fit to turn it upside down whenever He wished it.

The man pulled back enough to lay his head against her breast, carefully listening for the soft footfall hidden within. That was when he finally breathed, breathed deeply, head against her chest, tightened by strong arms, drowning against her smell.

"I'm home," she whispered over the sound of the waterfall, cheek against his hair and fingers gently combing through his tresses. Teagan felt her hesitate when she didn't find his braid. Of course she wouldn't. She hadn't been there to twist it between her fingers every morning.

"I didn't notice. Welcome back," he murmured back, digging his fingers against her flesh, strongly, stronger, until she couldn't move without resonating through his body. It wasn't enough. It'd take hours until he would feel strong enough to allow his sight to drift from her. "The kitchen's roof isn't leaking anymore."

"Full of good news, aren't you?"

"The roof came down for a while. We just put it up again."

"When I told you to fix it, I didn't mean burn it down and rebuild, Teagan." He felt her tugging gently on his hair. "It's a waste of perfectly acceptable resources."

"Being a warden is basically your excuse to being a magpie without no one calling it on it. And I dislike doing everything midway."

The jokes were fluent and simple, like they took place every day; comfortable like an old blanket which endured through the years. But Teagan was tired. Tired of being strong, tired of missing, of looking, of grasping hands and weapons and hoping beyond hope that her time wouldn't come tomorrow or two days from then or the day after, not before she came back home where he could hold her.

Again, his arms tightened. Again, she didn't complain.

"Stop, my love." Fingers through hair. Once. Twice. Again and again. Teagan had seen her doing this very same motion to his children more than once and it never failed to make them smile. He just sighed against her body, forcing himself to relax. "I leave you alone for a few months and you start thinking bad things. Do I need to take you with me next so you'll stop being the pessimistic one in this marriage?"

That sounded like a lovely idea. He could deal with the Deep Roads as long as she was breathing by his side.

Instead of saying so, because he was a nobleman and had more responsibilities and restraint than that, he pushed his fingers through her hair, tugging her down where he can kiss her once more.

"Mother! Father!"

The possibility of a trip seemed even more interesting as the screams of his children echoed through the air. Even her Wardens knew better than to interrupt their Commander. The twins? Not so much.

"I don't care what you say, Teagan," his wife said clearly, wide blue eyes on an expression which was just on the side of dry. "We are getting them bells. Boys, go bother Zevran!"

"Uncle says we can learn much more here! What does that even mean? You're just sitting."

"No, they're doing grown-up stuff. Look at father."

Apparently, they didn't think laying with his wife was innocent anymore. He was going to kill the damned elf.

"I am going to kill him."

He truly was.

Her chest moved quickly against his ear, rumbling with laughter. "You've said those words more than a couple hundred times with nothing to show. Perhaps you could go all the way and save us from this mess?"

Later, he thought as the children threw themselves near, forming a neat pile of bodies. Much much later. Right then and there, he had all he needed.