I close my eyes, thinking that there is nothing like an
embrace after an absence, nothing like fitting my face
into the curve of his shoulder and filling my lungs with
the scent of him. ~ Picoult

.

The demon was laughing, in that horrible, creepy way that demons liked to do - Morrigan sometimes made the same sound when amused at his expense. Growling, he kicked at the thing, surprised and gratified when he heard something snap! in response. Another figure, smaller and topped with flaring black hair, slammed her shield against the creature's side with a respectable amount of force, knocking it sideways and into the rain of fire flaring from a nearby mage's staff. And then, warm green light enveloped his body, healing and soothing what ailed him. Aches and bruises faded, his ribs felt a lot less likely to snap, and, though his arm was certainly still broken, it didn't hurt quite so badly.

"I've got it," Ashe yelled, eyes flashing as she braced against a hail of magical green fire. "Go ... find your wife!"

So he did. The demon protested and spat spells to sap their will, but they were proof against its cunning and brought it to its knees. Alistair heard it fall, but did not bother to look – he had something far better in his sights.

Ysri was tottering to her feet, blood running from her pale hair down the side of her forehead toward her ear. She seemed dizzy yet, eyes blinking as she tried to focus on the approaching figure. Pale hair dangled wetly in her pale face, dark circles ringing bright eyes from lack of sleep and strain. There was a wealth of pain in the lines he could see, in the way she bent with that quick, measured way she had to lift her staff from where it had fallen. All that pain and energy spent for him – how did she still look so beautiful? It was difficult to breathe.

"Ysri?"

Her entire body turned toward him at the sound of his voice, the much-abused staff falling again to the ground as she stepped toward him on wobbly knees. Alistair's sword hit the ground and his good arm came up to wrap around her, pulling her as tight to his chest as he could. He felt face against his neck, tears warm against his skin. It didn't matter that it hurt to hold her or that he had only one arm to do it. His fingers stroked through soft, white hair and he heard her whispering his name.

"Emma lath. Alistair. Creator's help me - I thought I'd lost you."

"Never," he whispered, voice cracking a little. "I knew you would find me. I'm your Prince in the tower, remember?"

"Don't joke," Ysri scolded, though she was laughing through her tears. "You were dead! Everyone knew it."

"Everyone but you, you mean," Alistair smiled, laying kisses along her brow and wherever he could reach. "I've missed you."

"You're hurt." she said, but he held her tight when she tried to move away, and she looked up at him with a lifted brow.

"It's just a scratch," he proclaimed. But Ysri had always known better than to listen to him in such matters, and her hands ran across his body to find any injuries he might be hiding. He stood there happily, rather enjoying the attention until she found the broken arm, face going a little gray around the edges and a curse escaping him.

"Maker's breath … perhaps not so small a thing, after all," he admitted.

"Shall I take a look?" Hawke asked and the two realized they were surrounded. The others were smiling through the muck and grime, leaning on weapons and looking rather satisfied with themselves. Alistair met Hawke's eyes and she shook her head, exasperation lurking behind her grin.

"I'm glad you're not dead." Her tone was dry, her hands

"So am I," He laughed until she took hold of his arm. "Andraste's … knickers …!"

"Alistair!" Leliana exclaimed, laughing. It was just the distraction he needed as the Champion of Kirkwall gave his arm a quick yank and he yelped, swaying on his feet and his eyes bulging until his wife's magic pulsed across his skin and cooled the pain. He wouldn't be using that arm to hold his shield for a while, he thought – not that it mattered. For the moment, he couldn't be happier.

It was a dirty, disheveled group who left the eluvian to file into the half-empty storage room. The door was open at the other end of the room, and they could see people moving in the courtyard outside. Ashe wasted no time, her boots clicking determinedly as she walked across the empty room. She paused at the doorway and then made an incoherent, mouse-like sound as a tall figure bearing a furry ruff around its shoulders descended on her and dragged the Inquisitor into the light.

"Thank the Maker you're all right," Cullen said, arms still wrapped protectively around the Inquisitor. As the others filed out of the room, his eyes widened at the sight of Alistair and his face paled a little. "I never thought I'd see you alive."

"Meet the right woman and you never have to worry about old Death," Alistair laughed, his eyes meeting Ysri's. Color climbed up his cheeks and he cleared his throat. "I knew she'd find me. Always does."

There came a flash of light and the faint hum of the eluvian ceased, Morrigan's voice behind them laced with mockery, "You always did rely on Ysri to save your hide."

"It's a fine hide," his wife said, dimpling as she turned her head to look back at the apostate with an affectionate smile. "Admit it, Morrigan. You would have been sad to see him lost forever."

"If it gives you gladness, I am happy to have made the effort," the witch sniffed. "Though you all smell of the Fade now."

"It is rather pung-" Leliana began, only to be interrupted as a small, ginger haired figure dashed into the midst of the group.

"Wait. Wait! I need your clothes. All of them. And anything that has ... goop on it. The more goop the better. And ... and skin scrapings! Maybe if we cut all you hair, too ... no offense, Messere Solas."

"None taken, Dagna," the apostate replied, amused. "Though I do not think the garden is the best place for us to disrobe."

"I doubt anyone would mind the view should I choose to indulge," Dorian quipped, tugging his moustache with a devilish glint in his eye.

"Oh, Ancestors no! The baths will do just fine," Dagna answered, giggling nervously. "Just ... don't not do it. I learned so much from the last samples and there will be so many more this time!"

"Dagna?" Ysri and Alistair said at the same time, their eyes a little wide as they stared at her.

"Warden?" the dwarf rocked back on her heels, nearly bouncing in place. "Warden! You ... it's her!" She told Ashe, grabbing the Inquisitor's sleeve and pointing. "That's her! She's the reason I'm ... I'm me!"

"I'd heard you'd done well in your studies, Dagna," Ysri said slowly, a smile tugging at her lips. "But I had no idea you'd be here."

"Dagna is the Inquisition Arcanist," The Inquisitor explained, shaking her head. "I admit, I have trouble keeping up with her."

"Hah hah! Well, I have trouble keeping up with me," the dwarf in question replied.

"I think I need to get Alistair somewhere quiet," Ysri said, feeling her husband sway a little on his feet. "The baths would be excellent about now."

"I ... don't suppose there is any food?" He asked hopefully as the group made their way through the garden. "Something with cheese?"

A little while later, sitting together in a bath with hot water to their chins, the wardens rested. There were candles around the room, flickering and shuddering in the steamy air, and a fireplace nearby, crackling and snapping warmly. Empty plates of fruit and cheese were stacked on the stone lip of the tub itself, next to a pile of soft towels and a small basket of soaps and oils. Ysri was keeping the water hot with her magic, allowing them to soak away the aches in the herb scented waters.

He'd not stopped touching her since they'd crossed into Skyhold and, now, his hands stroked over damp skin, lips pressed to her neck, her shoulders ... anywhere he could reach, really. He realized, as she turned in the water, in his arms, and he tasted salt on her lips, that she was crying, hot tears pouring from her eyes as though her heart would break.

"You were dead," she wept, shoulders shaking as he held her close, his eyes closing tight. "Everyone knew it. I was almost to Weisshaupt to tell you that I'd found it at long last ... and there were letters waiting for me at one of the way stations. You were dead. Leliana said so. I ... Alistair .."

"Shhh," He whispered. "I'm not. I promise I'm not. How could I leave you like this?"

"What if I hadn't found you? What if the demon had killed you?" She shook her head, shaking in the warm water. "Are you all right? Really all right?"

He smiled, fingers trailing through her hair, his lips catching hers as he pulled her closer, drinking her in as though he would never get enough. When they came up for air, foreheads pressed together, he smiled. "Never better."

.

.

NOTES:

** Okay, you guys have NO IDEA how hard it was NOT to turn this into a time travel fic. Except I'm not confident I could explain the paradoxes and it would BUG me. But I told Everhard about it and she said "Oh I am torn between eri no! and eri -yes-" and then we talked and I thought ... I can't account for all that. My brain is not that big! If they change anything, then maybe Ysri DOESN'T find the warden cure and doesn't come back and then this plot didn't happen ... and ... and ... *brain explodes*

So that's why this isn't a time travel fic. .

BUT IT ALMOST WAS. So if you would want a time travel fic and won't complain about paradox or make me EXPLAIN IT (i won't!), then you can vote in comments or send me a PM. But I might not anyway ... b/c my head hurts now.

*** So, I get to the very end. And my brain is like ... "Oooh, make it all a dream. Have Ysri wake up and discover she fell asleep over Leliana's letter while crying and he's still gone." WHAT THE EVERLOVING HELL? Why? My brain is a bad place. Seriously. I'm so sorry. I apologize for it's terrible behavior. I decided to give you floof instead. So. There you go.