"You're just lucky that the archdemon couldn't speak, we might have struck a deal, and then Ferelden would be a speck of dust in the wind." She waved her hand vaguely around, a grin on her face. Maybe if the archdemon agreed to leave the elves alone. And let her keep Alistair. Nobody would've been surprised. Mutter about how elves couldn't do anything right, probably. While darkspawn chewed on them.

When he apologizes, she shakes her head, her grip on him tightening. And she stares at him intently, a smile on her face, but with wear and tear of her own, a sadness of things that she'd have to bare for the rest of her life.

"No. Don't be. I'm just glad that you came back. Not--" Her voice threatened to break, but Tabris was never one to allow herself to show weakness. She'd given herself a week of grieving, and she wouldn't allow herself to cry after that. Not in public, at least. "--Not everyone did."