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Alistair was beginning to think he had a type. He hadn’t cried this hard since Elissa died, saving the world. He cried for Ariella out of relief, he cried because they could freely be together now. She had sent him several letters, and as soon as Alistair had heard word she was on her way he spent as much time on the battlements in anticipation as he could to await her arrival.
There was no heraldry. There were no wagons, no Inquisition colors. There was just her and her horse, and the saddlebags slung haphazardly on the horse. He didn’t quite believe it was her at first sight, but as the horse drew near, and the blonde hair billowed in the wind, he knew. Ari came to Denerim, bruised, battered, broken. The palace servants would talk for years about how they had never seen the King run so fast. He vaulted over low parapets, took two stairs at a time, they way he had in his youth.
By the time Alistair had made it to her, Ari had already dismounted her horse, and pulled her cloak tightly around her. The moment her eyes met his, she began to cry, large wet tears trailed clean paths down her travel worn cheeks. She choked out a mangled version of his name, and ran full speed at him. He followed in suit, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes and she raced toward her. Their bodies collided in the way only two lovers could, and he held her snugly to his chest as he pressed kisses into her hair as she sobbed in his arms. He shushed her quietly, gently rocking her where they stood.
“Everything is okay. You are here. You are safe. I swear to the Maker I will never let anything bad happen to you again.” Alistair caught her chin with his hand, tipping her head up to meet her eyes. “Maker you are beautiful, even when you’re crying.” He pressed a kiss to Ari’s mouth, in full view of the court. He didn’t care.
When the two finally pulled their heads away from each other, Ariella whispered. “Alistair, I have something to show you.” She glanced toward the ground, ashamed. She had not come to terms with the loss of her arm yet, and she felt he needed to know, so if he was repulsed, she could climb back on her horse and just keep going. She pulled her cloak away, and presented what was left of her arm. She looked away from him, afraid of his reaction.
Alistair stammered, but read her body. “I- ah, that is... “ He leaned down to examine it closer, and placed a gentle kiss on the flesh that was unbandaged. “I-”
“The Anchor is gone.” she chanced a glance at him, and a wave of relief washed over his face as her heard her words.
“Now all we need to do is find a cure for the Blight, love. We will never be apart again.” Bringing both hands up to cup her face, he kissed deeply.