One-Shot. I played through the City Elf Origin, romanced Alistair, and then had it all go to hell. A far cry from the supposed happy ending. And by the Maker, no, I don't own.
Kallian stared over the parapet. The enormous festering corpse of the Archdemon lay behind her. The Ritual had been a complete waste of time.
She was still alive.
She sighed, looking at the city below her. Her first home.
It was dead.
A vision of hell, the sky stained with the darkspawn taint. Fires raging unchecked, and everywhere the screams of dying men, elves and dwarves. With the death of the dragon, the darkspawn were in full retreat. Too late, the damage was done. She doubted whether this city would ever stand again.
She looked back, at the Shem who had destroyed her. After the blast he had picked himself up, grinning like an idiot. They had won!
Won what? She thought. She had won nothing, just continued to loose. She cast her thoughts back, to when the trouble had first begun. When they had gone to visit his sister . . .
-oOo-
They stood outside the shack. He was smiling nervously. This was awkward for her, too. But she loved him, and would walk to Tevinter with a 'for-sale' sign around her neck if she had to. There was nothing she would not do for him.
She rapped her knuckles against the door, seeing as he probably wouldn't. A voice from inside called out to wait.
Poor Alistair was sweating now. He still had that idiot grin on his face. She didn't think it had changed since the day she met him.
The door was pushed open. A woman stood in their way, barring access. Behind her, Kallian could hear children playing in a back-room.
While Alistair made a fool of himself introducing them, the woman only scowled. She refused to welcome Alistair into her home. Kallian could understand that. In the alienage, family came first. Always. This woman was protecting her kids. Nothing more. They handed over a bag of sovereigns as a gesture of good faith, and had the door slam in their faces.
Charming.
Outside, Alistair turned to her, stricken. She supposed it hadn't turned out all sunshine and fairytales. So much like his brother. Life never was, she told him. Look after yourself.
She would regret those words forever.
-oOo-
They were in Arl Eamon's estate, in Denerim. The Landsmeet had been a success. Loghain, the traitor to Ferelden, the bastard who had sold her friends, including Valendrian and Soris's wife, was dead. Alistair had proved himself in front of the Landsmeet. Anora was in Fort Drakon. All was well.
Last week, after killing Howe, they had rescued the queen, only to be stopped by Loghain's faithful dog, Cauthrien. Kallian had not wanted to try that monster sword of hers, so she had tackled the mages supporting the bitch. Sten had fought her, instead. Asala triumphed over the Summer Sword, and they had made good their escape, leaving the sycophant in a pool of her own blood.
The queen had wanted her help in re-securing her throne. Kallian had gladly accepted. In bed that night, while Alistair held her, she proudly told him he wouldn't have to worry anymore. She still vividly remembered the feel of his body, stiffening. His claim that after mulling the idea around, being king was something he wanted. She inwardly kicked herself, and promised him to sort it in the morning.
It hadn't seemed right, deceiving the woman. She had let Anora know she would be forced to withdraw her support. As if it mattered. Warden or no, she was still an elf. To think the Landsmeet would listen to her. It was a joke.
Anora had looked disappointed, of course, but she had not expected the betrayal. She had almost cost them their victory that day.
It didn't matter. They had won the vote; Alistair had executed Loghain after single combat. Things were starting to look up. Finally, they were looking up.
She had been sitting with the rest of her friends, drinking a toast to victory. The Maker alone knew what Oghren had given them. She already felt tipsy.
Alistair strode through the door, concern etched on his features. He wouldn't drink, and she had known, felt, that something was wrong. She put down the glass and followed him to their chambers.
He dumped her. It was her fault really. She had known what Shems were like her entire life, lying, cheating, anything, just to get into a pretty girl's skirt. How could she have been so blind? But he had seemed so . . . perfect. Always there to comfort her with a smile, a hug, a kiss.
A rose.
-oOo-
She looked at the crumpled petals, starting to blacken with age and rot. She let it slip from her numb fingers, falling over the edge, to the streets far below her. She looked back. He was making his way to her now, with that easy grin. Her grin.
She wished to the Maker she had failed her Joining, had surrendered to the guards, given herself to that bastard, Vaughn. Anything to have never loved him, to have never known him. Too late. Too late for fantasies. Too late for love.
-oOo-
It hadn't ended there. The trip to Redcliffe had been a long one, and she had denied the solace and company of her friends. Days of walking ahead, and lonely nights in her tent, built for two. She had found herself rubbing the ground where he should have laid.
Riordan had told them the cost of victory. Morrigan had offered a counter proposal.
After all he had done, mending her heart before shattering it completely, she still loved him. So, she did the hardest thing possible, and forced him to lay with another woman. He had not seen the hurt in her eyes. Simply accepted. He was so used to following her orders.
They had taken her room. Whether a conscious move to add insult to injury, or a blind mistake. She didn't care any more. Just sat quietly, on the roof, with the moon and stars her only company, the crash of waves far below and her sobs the only noise to be heard.
-oOo-
And it had worked. As the last tremors had abated, the rancid corpse of the Archdemon cooling at her feet, she found herself still alive.
She wanted to scream in frustration.
A cold clarity had overtaken her, a final look at her first home. Her second had been with him. Now, she had none.
The rose tumbled out of sight, lost to the swirling melee far below.
He was behind her.
'You did it!' he yelled, happily. 'You stopped the Blight!'
She turned to smile at him. 'We did. Once. Now, just you' she paused, taking one last, long look at his face. 'Weisshaupt will need a body.'
He saw what would happen. His gut seized up, and he reached out in vain, fingers grasping at empty air.
'I love you' she whispered, falling backwards, tumbling into oblivion.