A/N: This is set in the same slightly AU as "Warden's First", with Leliana not being Sister Nightingale, and instead becoming a Grey Warden to share her fate with her lover, Mahariel. This is the story of their final quest, set nearly thirty years after the Blight.

Thank you TSLi for inspiring and beta reading this piece, you rock!


As always, his breathing began to sound pained.

He started groaning; a deep, horrible noise, like the creaking of ancient timber.

His muscles tensed, and sweat broke out across his brow.

Leliana drew a sponge from the bucket of cool water beside the bed and dabbed him down. The nightmares were getting worse.

He would stay like this for nearly an hour, before waking with a scream that tore into her heart. It had been so for a month now, and Leliana had woken early every night, so she could comfort him in his torment.

She gazed down on her love's features. No longer the fresh faced, smooth skinned elf she had met nearly thirty years ago, his features were now pitted and scarred, the features of a lifelong warrior. His Vallaslin, one of the few reminders of his heritage, were nearly invisible, faded by time and buried by the physical reminders of battle. His skin was like the toughest leather, with a hideous scar drawing from his right temple to the left corner of his lip, removing a sizeable piece of nose in its path. An ogre's horn, that should have impaled his skull, or had him bleed to death, or done any manner of injury more serious than it actually did. She gently drew her finger across it, remembering her fear when he received the injury, how she had held his face together, fingers slipping through his blood, while the healer cast spells to reknit the flesh. She knew the touch would not wake him. Nothing could wake him when the nightmares took.

She was no longer the head turning beauty she used to be, either. Her once legendarily luxurious red hair did not hold the lustre it once did, and a horrific burn across one side of her skull had rendered the skin unable to grow hair. She kept the other side shaved short, the remaining strip across the top of her head tied back into a simple, vicious looking tail, and she wore a patch over her right eye after a stray arrow had torn the sight from it twelve years ago. She knew her features were still striking, but also that she now inspired fear, and awe rather than lust. She, of course, knew how to use it to her advantage. Her Bardic upbringing had never left her, and her primary role in the Wardens was as their ambassador to the humans, elves and dwarves.

She pushed the rough covers from her trembling lover's body, looking down across his ruined flesh, remembering how he received each of the scars across his skin. A shriek's bite across his shoulder, which had shattered the bone like glass, and still gave him trouble in the winter, despite the best efforts of the healers. A dark patch of skin across his flank, looking almost rotten, the visual reminder of an emissary's horrific curse that could never be properly healed. Near uncountable scratches, slashes, scars and burns, his body now resembling the one she had once hesitated to show him in the light, all those years ago; her torn carcass left behind by the Orlesian torturers.

For thirty years they had been at each others' sides, fighting the darkspawn, rebuilding the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, supporting each other through countless trials.

Her love had attracted a lot of criticism, for his actions during the Blight and beyond. He ignored them, as a Grey Warden should. Leliana and the other Wardens knew always did what he had to. The Blight was stopped, and "should have" was the luxury of politicians living in a time of peace. He kept the order neutral as civil wars, invasions and worse ravaged the country; instead remaining vigilant, ever growing, from their base at Soldier's Peak. The Grey Wardens fought the darkspawn, not the wars of politics.

But their time was growing short. The Grey Wardens were not immune to the Taint, it just took longer to affect them. Most, if they survived that long, succombed within thirty years.

They had talked about what would happen when this time came, but they had always known that their stories would end together.

For she too was Tainted. Five years after the Blight, she had persuaded him to put her through the Joining. He had not wanted to risk her life. She had refused to let him suffer his fate alone.

He did as she asked, eventually. He always did.

Finally, Theron opened his eyes, gasping for air.

'Shh, Theron, I am here, love' The years had removed the sweetness from her voice, but she had never truly shaken her delicate Orlesian accent.

After he caught his breath, he took her hand, and caught her eye.

It had been such a long time since she had seen him cry, hardened by decades of war, and hardship, and loss, that she did not immediately recognise the glistening sheen across his beautiful green eyes, which swam with the pale blue of the Wardens.

'It's time, Leliana.'

She felt sorrow rise up her throat, choking her.

She nodded, unable to speak.

It's time...


The ceremony was thankfully short. Theron gathered his nearly three hundred Grey Wardens into the courtyard of the keep, and announced that he had been Called. He handed the title of Warden Commander to Natia, who previously called herself a pickpocket in Orzammar, now a proud Grey Warden.

None of them questioned, none of them asked of Leliana's fate. They all knew her devotion to their leader.

Leliana was surprised, however, when Natia stepped forward, uncharacteristically nervous.

'Sir, ma'am, all of us here know just how much you've done for us, and the order. Most of us was nothin' but crooks when you met us, but for whatever reason, you saw somethin' in us an' gave us a chance to make the Grey Wardens somethin' to be proud of.

'Pardon me for sayin' so, but we've noticed you ain't looked too good recently, and thought this was comin'. So we brought a few of yer friends out of retirement to get you some goin' away presents.'

Theron rolled his eyes; Natia, despite Leliana's best efforts, was still as diplomatic as a boot to the face, but Leliana could see he was secretly touched underneath the gesture. As was she; the Grey Wardens were never strong on sentimentality.

Natia waved in the direction of the smithy.

Leliana could hear voices.

'Herren, it's cold, I want to go back indoors.'

'Not now Wade, we promised we'd present the gift personally!'

The familiar faces appeared at the door. Wade looked as he ever did, still bald, still boasting his drooping moustache, but his skin was now wrinkled, his posture bent, and he was holding onto his friend's arm for support.

'Oh, very well, the Warden did always appreciate good armour, and this is, without a doubt, my finest work!'

'That's Warden Commander, Wade. And it had better be your final work as well, I don't know what you were thinking going back into that forge.' Herren said, with a long suffering sigh.

'Yes, yes, I know. You two!' He gestured towards the two nearest Wardens. 'Go inside and fetch it. Do you expect a master to carry his own work?'

Herren gave them a sympathetic smile as they, rather bemusedly, entered the building and brought out two armour stands, both covered in white sheets.

'Hurry now! Show it to them!' Wade's impatient voice snapped through the air.

The Wardens pulled off the sheets.

Leliana's breath caught in her throat.

They were beautiful.

The pieces looked like the ancient, ornamental armour the Grey Wardens wore on tapestries across Thedas; tough, dragonskin base and glittering silverite plating, all stained in the blue and white of the Grey Wardens, with their heraldry adorning every surface. Capes of soft leather fluttered in the wind, enough to look impressive but not impede movement or risk tripping them.

Theron's gear was more heavily plated than her own; it was like it had been designed for the man. It would allow swift movement, to suit his aggressive, fluid fighting style, while protecting him from any blow aimed at him. The plates were heavy across the chest and shoulders, with lighter, glittering metal adorning the arms, including beautifully crafted scale joints at the elbows.

Her own was lighter: the chest plate was clearly less thick, moulded to her curves as if she had been there during the crafting. One shoulder was heavily armoured, the silverite plates spreading down the arm, flaring out at the wrist as a small bracer. It was perfect for her; allowing her to defend herself as she rained arrows upon her foes, without sacrificing any necessary movement.

Natia spoke again. 'We.. ah... know you usually like something a little more practical, but we know you're gonna give the darkspawn hell, and we want 'em to be so scared of the Wardens they don't wanna come back up!'

'They are beautiful...' Theron whispered, running his hand across the pair of back-to-back griffins hammered into the breastplate of his armour.

He turned to Natia, to the rest of the assembled Wardens.

'In war!' His voice rang clear across the courtyard.

'Victory!' The response was near deafening.

'In peace!'

'Vigilance!'

He turned to Leliana, deep eyes full of emotion. She called the final promise with him.

'In death!'

'Sacrifice!'

Theron strode up half a dozen steps of the keep before turning back to the assembled Wardens.

'It has been an honour, Wardens. Do me proud.'

Leliana could not help but smile. The gruff warriors in front of them had been uncharacteristically sentimental with the gift, and would no doubt appreciate the bluntness of their Commander's farewell.

She was not disappointed when the courtyard erupted with shouts and cheers.


The mountains were absolutely beautiful as autumn began to turn into winter, with the snow beginning to creep down from the peaks. The air was crisp and clean, and the quiet path they were following stretched as far as she could see in the direction of Orzammar. But, they were not alone. Leliana spotted a hysterical woman running towards them, waving her arms.

She placed her hand on her weapon, cautious, and could see Theron do the same, but it was clear that the woman herself was no threat. She was in threadbare clothes, and completely unarmed.

'Oh, please, you must help! I don't know who else to turn to!'

Leliana could not believe her ears. She looked behind, at the miles and miles of deserted pathways. Ahead, the trail stretched as far as she could see, without another soul.

It seemed Theron was having a similar reaction.

He looked to Leliana, and gave a roguish grin that would have done him proud thirty years ago.

'Just like old times, Leliana! How long has it been since we've stopped to help a random stranger, out in the middle of nowhere, who has a problem only we can solve?'

She cast her mind back. Incidents like this had been almost startlingly frequent as they travelled across Thedas during the Blight.

'I don't know... Maker, it has been decades!'

'You up for it? Who knows what we might find!'

She felt herself getting excited. The thrill of the chase, of a new story, had never truly left her.

'Yes!' She looked to the woman, who was nervously wringing her hands. 'We will help you.'

Her face instantly lit up with relief.

'Oh, thank the Maker! Quick, you need to follow me!'

They jogged up the path after her, stopping at a seemingly inconspicuous location.

'There!' she wailed, pointing at a nearby tree.

They eyed the tree suspiciously. It was approximately twenty feet tall, with branches starting around half way up its trunk. There was nothing wrong with it, and it was not large enough for any creature to hide behind. Theron slowly approached it, and Leliana asked the woman: 'Pardon, but what is it you need our help with?'

'In the branches, you need to hurry!'

Looking up, Leliana saw it. Wide, intelligent eyes glared back at her. Sharp teeth glistened in the sun, and it let out a disturbing hissing sound.

'Is that... a cat?' She could not keep the incredulity from her voice.

'Yes, please, you must rescue Mister Fluffles!'

Theron spoke up: 'You sidetracked a pair of heavily armed people, quite obviously Grey Wardens,' he gestured to the elaborate garb they were both wearing, 'to get your cat down from a tree?'

'There's nobody else here who can help!'

'There's nobody else here at all! Why are you even out here, with your cat?!'

'Please, I just want him back!'

Theron looked ready to argue the point further, but eventually slumped his shoulders in defeat, before gesturing Leliana over. Creating a step with his hands, he easily lifted her up to the animal, who eyed her suspiciously as she removed him from his perch.

She handed the creature back to his owner, who cooed with happiness before setting off down the path they way they had come, clutching the fluffy fiend in her arms.

Leliana and Theron watched her walk away for quite some time.

Decades as Commander of the Grey had, by necessity, instilled a cold, hard decisiveness within Theron. His men could look to him in any situation, and he would have an answer.

Leliana looked to him. The man had faced down horrors most of the world could never imagine, but should anybody but her have seen the look on his face, his reputation would be in tatters. His mouth was hanging slightly open, and his eyes were still wide with bafflement.

'I...' his normally commanding voice was weak. 'I think... we should just move on...'

Later that night, they lay beneath the fur of a bear Leliana had killed and Theron prepared, fondly recalling his days as a hunter. They had set camp by a river, and were enjoying the serenity of being out on the road, alone. As they gazed up at the stars, Leliana could not help but to tease her Dalish lover. 'Theron?'

'Hmm?' His chest vibrated with the noise, and Leliana drew in closer. He began to play with what remained of her hair, a sensation she still loved.

'I have just thought of something.'

'This better not be about that cursed cat.' he grumbled.

She ploughed on anyway. 'That woman might well be the last person ever to ask us to help them. How does it feel to know that your final quest as a hero, was to rescue a cat stuck up a tree?'

'...'

'...'

'If you tell anybody, I'll tell the world about that time I got that honey and-'

'You wouldn't dare!' she squeaked in outrage, flushing at the memory.

'I trust you agree to the terms of our arrangement?'

She gave him a hard jab in the ribs, before kissing him. 'You're no fun, you know that?'

He smiled into her lips, before pushing her back gently 'I'm plenty fun. Besides, I only did it so I could impress my beautiful companion.' He ran his hand from her hair, down her bare back and lower.

Leliana gave a melodramatic sigh. Theron was absolutely insatiable.

She rolled over, onto him.

Luckily, so was she.


Orzammar. The great dwarven city, once the last bastion of their people in Thedas, now the budding hub of hope and activity, as the dwarves struck out again and again with their armies of golems and previously casteless soldiers, reclaiming the Deep Roads and lost thaigs under the controversial rule of the now aged King Bhelen Aeducan. She and Theron had returned to the city half a dozen times since the Blight, usually as a convenient portal to the Deep Roads.

As they passed through the great entrance hall, the enormous carvings of dwarven ancestors gazing down upon them, Leliana became aware that the room was unusually quiet. The sounds of the city; the merchants, the blacksmiths, the criers, usually rang out through the entrance hall and beyond, down the mountainside, but this time it was silent. She felt a tension rise, and rested a hand over the hilt of one of the daggers at her side.

The giant doors to Orzammar proper opened before them, two dwarves pulling each aside.

Leliana's breath caught in her throat. Dwarves bowing their heads, with hands upon their chests, filled the area in front of them, leaving just a single path to the bridge leading to the Proving Grounds. The normally bustling city was deathly quiet, and Leliana could hear the molten lava that both lit and heated much of the city, bubble with eternal anger.

At the near end of the bridge stood the aged King Bhelen, who called out:

'Atrast vala, Wardens. Be welcomed and honoured amongst us as your Calling draws you.'

Sensing the ritual nature of the announcement, Leliana held her head high as she slowly traversed the path. She did not look to Theron, but could sense him doing the same.

They reached King Bhelen and offered a bow in dwarven style, hand clenched over the chest with a ducked head. He returned the gesture. The dwarf answered the unasked question.

'Things have been changing in Orzammar, Wardens. Some traditions are outdated and damaging; there has not been a dwarven child branded castless for nearly ten years, and our newly bolstered armies are winning battles many thought impossible. But other traditions, long forgotten, are worth keeping. The Wardens are respected amongst us, and we will be sure to see your final journey is given the farewell you deserve.'

'We are honoured, your majesty.' Theron's powerful voice carried out to the assembled dwarves, and she could hear the undercurrent of emotion running through the words.

'We have prepared a room for you in the palace, and a banquet which will begin in five hours.' He raised his voice so all of the assembled dwarves could hear. 'This day is one dedicated to those surfacers who know and live our eternal struggle. There will be Provings held all day, and the merchants are free to set up stalls in the diamond quarter. Ancestors be with you!'

The dwarven crowd gave a short cheer, before dispersing, ready to prepare for the nearest thing dwarves had to a holiday.

Bhelen looked up at the humans.

'You know your way to the palace. You are free to do as you wish with the time until the banquet; I will be watching the provings.'

The King gave a final bow which they returned, before turning from them and crossing the bridge.

Theron turned to her and gave a small smile. 'I never figured Bhelen as one for ceremony.'

She flashed him a grin in return. 'The man is shrewd. A display like this will only help his progressive image, bolstering his popularity both amongst the people here and on the surface.'

Theron rolled his eyes. 'Remind me never to get into politics. Still, the gesture is nice.' He leaned in closer and slipped an arm around her waist. 'I seem to remember Orzammar has mastered the technology of enormous, hot baths. Shall we go and inspect our quarters?'

'Very well. But I would like to see the markets one last time-'

The gravity of what she just said hit her like a charging ogre. They had both been honest and open to each other about their impending fates, but they also did not dwell on it. Their journey here had been full of unmentioned "one last times", and tomorrow they would set off into the Deep Roads to the fate the Maker decreed for them.

Leliana felt that she had lived a full life: she had known joy, laughter and love, she had caused evil, tried to repent, and fought its manifestation tirelessly. And these were her final days. She wondered what she had missed, what she could still do before the end.

'...Leliana?' Theron turned her gently to face him. She pulled him into a tight embrace.

'I wish to see the sun again, my love. I did not even think about-'

'Hey, hey, there's still time before the sun sets.' His voice was gentle, reassuring. 'We can watch it together before the banquet. I bet it will be beautiful, across the mountains.'

She smiled to him, eyes swimming, feeling like a stupid girl rather than a battle hardened Grey Warden. 'I would like that. We should bathe first though, if we are to enjoy a romantic sunset I would rather you did not smell of two weeks on the road.'

'I love you too, Leliana.'


Up in the mountains, the sun looked absolutely enormous. The giant orange orb floated lazily down, just beginning to touch the tips of the Frostback Mountains, casting dazzling lights across the snow coated peaks. The glare hurt Leliana's eyes, but she did not look away. This would be the last time she ever saw the sun set, and wanted to take in every second.

'Are you scared, Theron?'

He was silent for some time. Leliana knew he was taking stock of his life, and the results would not all be pleasant. He had done some terrible things, during the Blight and beyond. But she believed the Maker would have mercy on him. His actions were harsh, nearly indefensible at times, but he made the difficult choices so nobody else would have to. Whatever criticism he may attract, could be rebuffed with the knowledge that he had kept Ferelden safe from the darkspawn for decades, and that he never, ever took pleasure in his actions. She had lost track of the number of times she had held him during the night, as he relived the horrors he had committed, trembling and crying out.

As the sun dropped further behind the mountains, she took his hand into hers. They were standing just outside of the great gates of Orzammar, the sun setting directly ahead of them.

'A little. But, it feels right as well. The nightmares haven't been as bad, as though the darkspawn know I'm coming for them.'

They stayed silent a few more minutes, before he spoke up again, his voice scared, ashamed.

'I'm glad you're with me, Leliana.'

She looped her arm into his, and rested her head on his shoulder, watching the fires of the sun dance across the snow.

'I will be with you to the end, Theron.'

And I will guide you to the Maker's side, or fall with you into hell as is His judgement.