Hello! I wrote this a looooooong time ago. It's short, but re-reading it today, it made me happy. So I thought I'd post it to see if it made you guys happy too. As always, thank you for reading my tiny stories. I love you. *hugs*

Alistair sat in camp looking into the fire before him. His vision blurred as he gazed on at the flickering flames. The bustling of soldiers around him and the crackling of the fire faded from his ears as he thought of Emma; his wife.

He missed her terribly.

It had been a year that they'd traveled side by side combating the Blight. Together every day and almost every night. And after the Blight, Emma stayed in court with him, helped him begin to earn the trust and respect of his people as their new king. Not long after did he finally marry her. A smile formed on his lips at the memory of her at his side, flushed cheeks and dazzling beauty. The dress made for her was marvelous, white silks and lace. She'd worn daises in her hair, a flower she favored for it's simple beauty. He recalled their first night together as man and wife, king and queen...

He ached for her to be with him then. He looked about, the noise of camp and the sight of men drinking and arguing over games of cards reminding him of his duties. And of hers.

She had told him this is how it would be. They would always be off, she, Commander of the Grey and he the King of Ferelden. He regretted appointing her the task more than he'd regretted anything at that moment.

The cold night air sent a shiver up his back despite the giant blaze before him. He knew if she were there, her touch would make him forget the cold, along with the trouble in the bannorn. Noble bickering was his current task. But they were his people and it was his duty to rule justly and firmly to assure a united nation.
Emma was so much better at this type of thing, he thought to himself. She always had an answer, logical and always empathetic to the topic and persons involved. She'd taught him so much. And not just in how to rule.

Without her he would never have found the confidence he now had in himself. She gave him the courage to stand up for what he believed and what he wanted in life. He would have never had the courage to give her that rose; to find out she was the one person he wanted to spend his life with. To caress and hold on a cold night like this one.

He thought of children. It was a happy and sad thought. To know they would never be able to have them together, the taint in their blood deeming it impossible. But thinking of her as a mother... it made him chuckle. As stern and hard as she could be at times, he knew a child would be the chink in her emotional armor. He imagined her chasing after a hypothetical son, teaching him to use a sword and how to ride a horse. He laughed to himself as he imagined her doing the same with a daughter. She'd look just like Emma, with long red hair and sparkling amber eyes. It filled him with melancholy to know it would never be.

But he had her. And he wanted no one else to spend his remaining years with. Perhaps, if fate would have it, they would go to the Deep Roads together. The thought made their tragic fate seem less so, knowing neither would be alone. With that thought, he realized if her time came before his he wouldn't let her go alone. There was no way. He smiled again, thinking of being together with Emma till the end.

He looked up and sighed as he picked up a twig and began burning it in the flames of the fire. He and his troupe of men had 5 days march left to Highever, to meet with Emma's brother Fergus, the Teryn of Highever, to discuss matters of his farm-holdings. It was a long time coming, the completion of repairs to Cousland Castle. Perhaps Emma would be able to return home to it finished. Alistair's heart skipped at how happy it would make her to see her home restored.

"I love you Emma," he said quietly to himself as he looked up to the stars. He wondered if she was looking up, too, wherever she was at that moment. He said a quick prayer to the Maker that she was safe.

A short time of sitting in silence passed before a man neared the Ferelden king.

"Your Majesty?" a young man in leathers and riding gear approached, falling to a knee and bowing his head. "I've come from Amaranthine with a message from the Commander of the Grey Wardens."

Alistair dropped the twig and turned to face the man. "From Emma? What is the message?"

"She's written, your Majesty," he kept his head bowed down as he extended his arm to the king, letter in hand. Alistair took it and recognized the seal of the Grey Wardens on the envelope.

"Thank you," he dismissed the messenger and pried open the letter. As if his thoughts had brought him word of her, he thought to himself. He recognized her hand-writing and welled with comfort at the sight of it. He began to read.

My dearest Alistair,

I have word regarding the situation here in Amaranthine and at Vigil's Keep. I spoke to you of the darkspawn and their plans briefly when you welcomed me here... I miss you so much Alistair. I hope my letter finds you well. I apologize it doesn't bare fantastic news. But I am safe, and always thinking of you.

I've met a darkspawn who calls himself The Architect. He desires a peace between humankind and the darkspawn. His pleas are, as odd as it sounds, empathetic. I feel his want to free his brethren from their incessant need to search out the Old God's genuine. He strives for peace for his people as you and I do for ours.

There was another leader of the darkspawn, the Mother, as she was called. She was a broodmother. The Architect had tried his ritual, similar to that the Grey Wardens partake in, to free her mind of the taint. She did not respond to it very well. She was a creature of... I have no words. Her armies almost tore Amaranthine and Vigil's Keep to shambles. But they stand still, thank the Maker.

What I'm trying to say is that, I feel this Architect is an ally I have come to trust. To trust the spawn, I know it sounds insane... but you know me. I need you're support as well as your trust when I say I think we can possibly end the Blights if cooperation is indeed granted with this, man, I should say.

These past four months have been a living hell. I have come across so much knowledge, mostly unwillingly. And all the history here... Nathaniel Howe was here when I arrived, in the dungeons. He's joined us, as a Warden, and has been a good friend. To think, he too, was betrayed by the same man as I; his father. To think he can look me in the eye, even with a smile, knowing I am the one who killed him. Vengeance seems to have brought me nothing but regret. Rendon Howe betrayed my family, but... he betrayed his as well. Who was I to make judgement upon him? I digress.

How I dream of seeing your face, of feeling you hold me in your arms. I know our roles in the ruling of these lands, but I am a woman, and a wife. I long to be sheltered from all of this in your warm embrace. I miss your laughter, and your stupid jokes.

I am returning home. Teagan has informed me you are still out in the bannorn. If you are not at the palace when I return, I will await you there eagerly, my love.

I pray Andraste guides you and keeps you safe, dear husband.

Forever yours,

Emma

Alistair re-read the letter several times. Emma was always the rock, comforting him and guiding him. But she sounded distraught, tired in her words to him. And this Architect... she trusted him? A darkspawn? The idea of ending all Blights added to the intensity of her letter and his capability to take it all in. Could that really happen? Could the Blights be stopped completely?

He felt the urge to gather his men and return to Denerim immediately. But he knew he couldn't do that. He had his task, and he couldn't set it aside as if it wasn't important.

His heart swelled with joy to think, to know he would return home and she would be there. He'd not known when she would be back. To think she could be halfway there now excited him to no end.

Emma stood looking up at the dimming sky as she wondered about her husband and where he was at that moment. She wondered if he'd received her letter. He'd be worrying, no doubt. She smiled at the heart that beat beneath his chest for her.

"Commander," Anders' voice came from somewhere behind her, "we need to get going."

She looked over her shoulder at the mage and nodded. "Right. Did you get to say goodbye to Sir Pounce-a-lot?"

He shook his head. "I don't know where the beast got off too," he huffed. "Well. He'll be safe here, at least."

"Perhaps."

Anders could see the worry in her eyes as she stopped at his side at the gates of Vigil's Keep. She'd mentioned writing to Alistair of the Architect and it's 'plans'. "You alright Emma?"

"I miss him so," she blurted without thinking. Taking in the smile Anders gave, her flushed her cheeks. "Forgive me," she chuckled, "I just... it's been so long. We were wed and then I was off, here to command the Grey Wardens. And finding out all of this... I just long to see his face."

"Soon. Heh, it's funny to see this side of you. Normally, you'd just be slicing a hurlock in half or something."

Emma laughed. "Funny, to think killing darkspawn comes up more than seeing my husband." Her smile lowered. "I pray to the Maker I will see him at least one last time."

Anders scoffed with an amused chuckle. "She takes down the Archdemon yet frets over one emissary? Come now, Hero of Ferelden," he nudged her with an elbow before walking on. "Your legend won't end here. I am sure of it."

"I am glad one of us is, at least," she sighed and followed him.

He frowned at the sad nature of her words. Her stride lead her a few steps ahead of him and he watched the armored plate at her hips sway from side to side. She looked worn to the bone on the outside, but the fire in her eyes never wavered.