minific prompts for anyone: U. Coming home
Thank you for the ask! I’m sorry that this took me forever to answer…and that is Baraneth and Alistair when Bara dearest returns from finding the Cure.
(Frankly idek if this is coherent its written on like 3 hours of sleep but shhh go with it)
Alistair’s foot bounced up and down, more uncontrollably shaking from the knee down in a nervous twitch as he stood on the steps of the royal palace in Denerim.
If he stared any harder at the wrought iron gates his eyes might just burn out of their sockets; or maybe he’d go blind from overexertion–was that something that could happen? Would the mages be able to fix it?
It didn’t matter; there was a nervous hush all around the courtyard that felt like a noose strangling around his throat anyway, every adviser and castle staff member waiting with baited breath for the tell tale clip of horseshoes on cobblestone.
He just wanted to see her again, Maker’s breath he just wanted to see her and hold her in his arms. Make sure she was alright, that his nightmares claiming she was torn from him entirely were false.
It had been years. Two long years without Baraneth by his side.
At his hip Ailwife’s old and grey muzzle lifted, his failing ears perking up. Within seconds the creaky old mabari was lurching to his feet, body set a-wiggle by someone or something his human compatriots couldn’t hear.
As the dog bounded to the gates, dancing back and forth and the holder of his excitement came into view and Alistair felt like doing a little jig right alongside the mabari. Perhaps a little hop, skip, and a heel click for good measure.
Looking worn out, golden dappled coat darkened with sweat and dirtied with dust, the familiar Ferelden destrier plodded towards the gates. Baraneth was astride, safe and well and Alistair strode towards the gates as soon as they began to open.
The next few beats were a blur–a hand on the Destrier’s reigns, a hand on her hip to steady her as she slid from the horse’s back, a stable hand grabbing the exhausted horse. Alistair wrapping his exhausted wife in his arms as she sagged against him.
The world came back to him but it was all Baraneth, the brilliant blue of her eyes, softened by residues of illness and dulled with exhaustion but bright with relief and affection. The familiar curves of her cheeks–sharpened and hollowed by travel–as he stepped back and drew his hands up her neck to cup her cheeks. Maker’s breath the smile she gave him seconds before he leaned forward to kiss her.
Everything was right, everything was at peace in the way her arms wrapped around his neck, the way her lips fit against his and the way his name fell from them in a soft breath.
He broke their kiss first, resting their foreheads together, hand curling in her hair to cup her head, afraid that if he broke contact for a moment then she was going to disappear in the next breath.
“Welcome home.” he whispered, voice thick and eyes burning.
Baraneth made a muffled sound, squeezing her eyes closed against the tears that spilled down her cheeks. So he pulled her close again, and relished in the way they were like two halves of a whole.