Author's note: Duncan is another of those characters that are not seen often in writing, aside from his tragic fall at Ostagar. I wanted to show his viewpoint on the betrayal in his final moments, and see what his last thoughts were of. He was an important, though minor, character, even though he died early in the game. Hopefully, I did the Warden justice. This will be a one-shot, unless people really like it. If you do want more, the next chapter will be from Alistair's viewpoint, and then Reyn's. Again, if you would like a three-part continuation, just say so and I will do it. Thank you all, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins whatsoever, or the incredible characters. If I did, Duncan would not have died, or if he had, you would have been able to give him a proper burial like Cailan in the Return to Ostagar DLC. Which is a brilliant DLC by the way; very sad.
Betrayal of the highest order; that is what this battle has boiled down to. As soon as my weary eyes looked up and saw the Tower of Ishal, beacon lighting up the night as if the Maker himself were guiding it, I knew. Alistair and Reyn had done their task, and done it well. The reinforcements should have been alerted, pouring down the hill and joining their brethren in beating back the Darkspawn menace. The added manpower may not have been enough to turn the tides, but then again it could have greatly helped, and let more men escape with their lives. But, that was not to be. As soon as Loghain shirked his duty, his responsibility, he damned us all.
We would not make it out of this alive. I was confident that there would be a survivor or two, but for most, this battlefield would be our grave. These brave Fereldens would not get a grave, or a pyre, or even a send-off at sea. No, they would get to just lie here on the field, rotting away with all the others. That, or get dragged away by the foul creatures that were slowly overwhelming us. Loghain…why would you do this? Why would you abandon the very people you swear to protect? All we just merely sacrifices, for your version of a greater good? I am unsure. I know the man was not fond of Cailan, like he was with Maric. Loghain had been friends with the late Theirin, and had searched for him endlessly when the late King had disappeared at sea. Cailan had never measured up in his eyes, and he had made it his mission to try and undermine the young kin's decisions.
Cailan was not a bad man, but he was not a fit king. He was too young, and his dreams of the Wardens blinded him to reality. He lived in a dream world, a fantasy. The young man wanted his name spoke of in tales, recalling how he rode with the Grey Wardens and vanquished the Blight, as a select few kings had done before him. Cailan wanted to be as famous as his father; wanted to make Maric proud. But, his notions may have doomed us all.
I swing my sword, the blade slicing through the charging Darkspawn. My shield has been lost, torn from my hand earlier by a Hurlock Alpha. My shield was of no conceivable use now, but neither was the Alpha to his army. The Hurlock's lifeless corpse was added to the growing sea of dead that blanketed the once serene place of Ostagar. More enemies were upon me. I dispatched one with a well-placed slash, but I had to duck the axe swing of the other. I lashed out, cutting a swath in the blackened arm. The Hurlock howled in pain and anger, again swinging out at me. I dodged, but apparently was not swift enough. The axe glanced me, leaving a gash in my abdomen. I ignored the pain and the blood oozing down my stomach, choosing instead to contend with the would-be murderer. The thing moved towards me again predictably, and this time I was ready. I caught the blade against my own, pulling my dagger free from its sheath and impaling the creature with it. The sharp steel cut easily through the lack-luster armor, ending another beast's life. But, there was just too many.
Darkspawn ran everywhere, engaging my fellow comrades. Some were killed, Ferelden standing tall, but it was only for a moment. Another took the dead's place, and the cycle kept continuing until the original man was dead. There was no winning, no victory for us here. This would be our last stand; my last stand. For I knew in my bones that I would not make it out alive. Nor would I even try. If the soldiers fell, it was only fitting that the leaders did as well. But, I had to get King Cailan out of there. He was the most important soul here, Maker forgive me, and he was the one that must escape. I looked around wildly, eyes taking in the utter carnage playing out before my eyes. I finally caught a glimpse of the king. Cailan was fighting valiantly, swinging Maric's blade and roaring at the Darkspawn. He was holding his own well, and I made as if to go to him. I had not taken a step when a Genlock came out at me; I was forced to dispatch it quickly. When I turned back around, it was to a sight of utter horror; one I had wanted desperately to avoid. Cailan was in the grasp of an Ogre. His father's sword had been lost to the ground, and he was helpless. I could do nothing as I saw the giant roar in Cailan's face, before crushing him. My eyes locked on the massive fist, clutching the limp and bloodied form in its hands. The Ogre carelessly tossed away the king, uncaring and most likely unaware that it had just single-handedly killed the leader of Ferelden. As I watched the body sail through the air and crash against the ground like a puppet, a rage overcame me.
I grasped my dagger and sword, charging at the Ogre that killed Ferelden's future. I leapt at it, stabbing my blades deep into the muscled body. I climbed up the body using my steel, plunging them both deep into the body. The Ogre plunged to the ground, aftershocks rolling through the dead carcass. I stood over the Ogre, staring at my sword and dagger sticking out of it like a macabre piece of art. I wiped blood, both my own and that of the Ogre's, off of my face. Weakly, I walked over to Cailan's body. I stared down at it, looking at the face of the man I was sworn to protect. A sense of failure washed over me. Forgive me… I clutched my side, the gash having ripped open further due to my tussle with the giant Darkspawn. I could feel the blooding running out the cut, my ruined armor stained with the very essence I had given for my country.
I looked upwards, again looking at the beacon. What was once supposed to save us became the signal of our loss. I thought of Alistair, the Grey Warden I had promised long ago to protect and watch over. I hoped Fiona would be proud with what I had done with the boy. In many ways, he was the son I never had. Fiona herself had never known of my love for her. It would be the secret I took to my grave. There were times when I believed him to be my son, rather than Maric's. I wish I could have told him the truth of his parentage, of his mother. That boy was more like Maric than Cailan, and I knew in my soul that if he survived, he would one day make one of the greatest kings Ferelden has ever known.
Reyn Cousland…the young girl I had saved from an early death at the hands of one of her father's friends. I saw so much of Bryce and Eleanor in her; they would have been proud to see how she took to the Wardens. Despite her grief and pain, she walks tall and with head held high. Like Alistair, I feel that young Cousland will hold a huge part in stopping the archdemon and saving Ferelden. I am glad she survived, and I just hope she is okay and makes it through unscathed. Maybe one day when she too has joined me in death, she will be known as a hero.
The Battle is coming to an end; it has been little more than a glorified massacre. Fires are burning all around me, lighting up the night sky along with the light from the tower. The men closest to me are all slain, falling to the ground with finality, just like Loghain's promises. I hope he gets justice; these brave men deserve to be avenged for their deaths. Maybe Reyn and Alistair will be able to avenge mine…
I sink slowly to my knees, my vision trying to wane. Too much blood…lost. Both my own, and Ferelden. The Darkspawn all turn to me, having killed everyone in my vicinity…or worse. In what feels like slow motion, I watch as an Alpha runs at me, wielding a massive axe. It is fitting that I die not only from the wounds caused by an axe to the stomach, but to the one that sings of my death; the harbinger. I stare hard at the creature, staring death in the face like my duty demands. My time as a Warden was up; my Calling was soon to be upon me if I had lived. Though I wish I had joined my brothers and sisters at Orzammar, I am glad I fell with those of my country. I will die knowing I did what I could, and hopefully taught my pupils enough so that they may carry on my legacy and that of the Grey Wardens, fulfilling their destiny.
As the axe descended upon me, my thoughts were turned to the one love of my life, lost to me long ago to my friend and my inability to pursue a romance. It was for the best, and I had lived with the knowledge for years, but Fiona was where my mind turned to last. The blade whistled through the air; blackness. Fiona…I love you. I will join you soon.
In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death…sacrifice.