A Hero's End

Foreword

Hello to you, reader. Before we begin, a little background. I'm a 22 year old guy who has been reading and writing his entire life. I've read tons of fanfiction, and reviewed some really good ones. But I've never really found the time or the inclination to actually sit down and create something of my own. Part of the reason was my insistence to actually finish something before putting it up for publication, instead of doing it chapter by chapter. That way I could make sure my story was perfect (by my standards) before letting it out into the world.

I've been a huge fan of Bioware ever since Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, and bought pretty much every game they've made. I greatly admire their writing and their ability to create wonderful, relatable characters that you really cared about. I've tried for so long to write something that would do their characters justice. And now I hope I have.

It took me a few months to write this thing, mostly during the dead of the night while waiting for the World Cup matches to come on. I'm influenced by all sorts of sources, and I like to sneak the occasional reference in here and there. So if you're a fan of a Song of Ice and Fire or DC Comics or Farscape or Firefly or The Sandman, well you'll get a little something out of reading this.

Once again, thank you for clicking on this link and reading the words I have written. Writing is truly the best thing in the world, because you have created a world that is yours alone. It is the most rewarding and enriching experience I know. If you are kind enough to leave reviews, then I am most grateful. I shall respond to every single review I get. In fact, just drop me a message anytime. I'd like to get in touch with other Dragon Age fans who are just about as passionate as this universe as I am.

A last word, go read Sisimka's stories if you want more Aedan and Leliana romance done right. Sisimka's a really good writer, and inspired me to do better.

Well, that's about it. Welcome back to Ferelden. We've missed you.

- Finn Solomon

It has been twenty five years since Aedan Cousland and his band of heroes have saved Ferelden and all Thedas from the dangers of the Blight. Peace reigns in the country ruled by King Alistair and Queen Anora, soldiers have traded in their swords for ploughs and there is friendship between men and dwarves and elves and mages.

After travelling the world with his wife and soulmate Leliana of Orlais, Aedan has renounced his position as Warden Commander and returned to Highever to rule as Teyrn after the death of his brother Fergus. Aedan and Leliana have three children, and are content to leave their colourful past behind in favour of raising their family. He has all he ever wanted, and is content.

But old wounds and past decisions never lie easy, and Aedan has recently heard the Call that all Wardens hear at the end of their lives. He has to pay the final price of a decision that was made in Ostagar all those years ago, and leave his family forever.

Chapter One - The Beginning of the End

Dragon Age 9:55

25th year of the reign of Alistair the Warden King

Castle Cousland, Highever

Ever had one of those days where everything seemed to be perfect?

For Aedan Cousland, those days came more frequently in recent years. He was no stranger to pain and horror, despair and strife however. He'd seen his mother and father, little nephew and gentle sister-in-law brutally murdered when he was barely more than a man, so cocksure and full of himself. He'd been so certain in the strength of his arm, comfortable behind the walls of the castle he called home and secure in the protection that his lord father offered.

Far too late he learned the lesson that all Ferelden nobles must master if they are ever to survive the game of thrones. Power is at once more addictive than any drug and available in finite supply. True friends were rarer than a mountain of gold, as Teyrn Bryce Cousland was to discover. Behind his easy smile and ingratiating manner, an insatiable thirst lay buried in the heart of Arl Rendon Howe. Dreams of power was what moved him to cut down one of his oldest friends as though he was little more than an animal awaiting slaughter.

Bryce had lost the game that day. But in doing so, he at least ensured that his sons would never make the same mistake.

Aedan pondered briefly upon the nature of the power he held. If the commonfolk suspected a fraction of the cares and worries that vexed his every waking moment, they would be less hasty to wish for high birth. A farmer might worry about having to feed his family, Aedan worried for every farmer's family within his lands. A soldier might grumble about pulling double nightguard duty, but it was Aedan's responsibility to ensure that the roads were patrolled and the villages safeguarded. The village chief might have to deal with a stream of requests and complaints on a daily basis, but that was nothing to balancing the demands, threats and requests of well over fifty Banns and Arls who had pledged their service to Highever. Although it felt more like Aedan had pledged himself to them, always putting out another fire or settling another petty dispute.

Nevertheless, despite all the troubles that plagued his everyday life, there were certain compensations. His wonderful wife and children. The satisfaction of dispensing justice and earning the respect of his people. Restoring his family's ancestral home to its former glory. And from a glance at the pre-dawn sky, it was going to be undeniably as perfect a day as one could hope for.

Aedan loved waking up just before the dawn, well before most of his household's occupants would rise. There was a real bite to the wind in the colder months, one that every farmhand cursed but was welcomed by him. He loved the way it had of invigorating his muscles, and thoroughly woke the body and mind up after hours of restless slumber.

He still had the dreams, all Grey Wardens would have them for the rest of their lives. Relentless, shadowy images of a leathery wing or bloodstained jaw ripping at him, never letting up. If the mages at the Circle Tower were right and the Fade was where people went when they dreamed, he travelled to a particularly nightmarish area of the Fade every night. Truth be told, he had begun to prefer waking up early ever since the day of his Joining Ritual. It meant less time spent in the company of monsters.

It also meant more time spent in the company of the people that he loved. Beside him his wife still lay sleeping, curled up beneath the covers so that only a mass of gorgeous red hair could be seen. Her soft snores punctuated the still air of their bedchamber. Aedan leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She stirred a little, but did not wake. He got out of bed carefully, making sure not to disturb her rest. His wife got cranky if she had to wake up earlier than she needed to.

Aedan walked through the corridors of his castle, repaired and restored to its former glory after the treacherous attack by Rendon Howe. The man had done his best to break House Cousland and scour its name from the history books, yet today the laurel wreath flag flew proudly over the battlements just as it had for decades past.

The flagstones were freezing beneath his bare feet, yet it felt good. Solid. Aedan had spared no expense in rebuilding Castle Cousland, a lesson that was learned the hard way from the defense of Vigil's Keep. He had sent to Orzammar for the best stonecrafters the dwarves had to offer, importing materials from Orlais and Antiva. The result was a fortification the dwarves swore would stand for a thousand years and more. Aedan believed them.

"Good morning, your grace," greeted a young chambermaid cheerily, her arms laden with clothes. The castle help had become accustomed to seeing the Teyrn walk the passageways at all hours of the morning. It had taken them longer to drop their deferential manner. Servants were ingrained with the habit of being seen and never heard, not even allowed to say a word besides ones of greeting in the presence of a noble. Aedan disliked the idea and tried his best to get to know the men and women in his employ. As his father had once remarked, a master who knows your name and your family history is a master less likely to be hated and betrayed.

"Good morning...Maggie?"

"Martha, your grace. Martha Oakland. But 'tis no trouble."

Aedan smiled ruefully. Of course, he had a lot of servants to get to know. But he made the effort, and that made all the difference. Visitors often remarked how cheerful the staff at Castle Cousland seemed to be. There wasn't the air of sullen insolence you got at one of the lesser households with lords and ladies who were less than enlightened with regards to the treatment of their servants.

Of course, with the king and queen's recent decrees the commonfolk were granted much more protection than they had in the old days, but you always heard a rumour of a young lordling raping his maids, or an Arlessa putting a cook to death because the food was substandard. Rumours, of course. But such rumours never came from Castle Cousland.

Aedan decided to make a quick detour to the castle's kitchen to grab a bite to eat. He liked old Hax the cook, a stoic, dependable fellow who could create gastronomic masterpieces from simple bread and meat and spices. If the man had one fault, he gave far too many treats and snacks to Baskerville, the Mabari War Hound that had been with Aedan ever since he was a puppy. With all the years and many, many sides of beef later Baskerville had grown so fat he was hardly capable of waddling up to a genlock, much less kill it.

Even at this early hour the kitchen was a frantic hotbed of activity. Undercooks rushed about, yelling orders and thrusting large pots of ingredients into the arms of apprentices, who were chopping, stirring, shredding and boiling countless dishes. Off-duty guards mingled with the cooks, sneaking a snack or flirting with the maids who flitted in and out like a flock of birds. And right in the centre of it all, in the eye of the hurricane stood Hax in his tunic and apron, nodding serenely at the other men, occasionally tasting a sauce and whispering instructions into the ears of his well-drilled team. Absolutely no one noticed Aedan moving silently through the crowd until he could lay a hand on Hax's shoulder.

"Your grace. Good morning to you."

"And you, Hax. Could I get something to eat? Something light will do just fine."

"At once, your grace."

Hax mumbled a command and almost instantly a dish of bread, cheese, cold beef and olives was produced and handed to Aedan.

"Thanks Hax," said Aedan. The Teyrn proceeded to eat standing up, watching the hive of activity buzz around him. Occasionally an apprentice would bump into him, turn around as if to make some complaint, and realise just who was it he had ran into. Aedan didn't mind. He wanted to talk to Hax.

"How's everything? Did you stuff Baskerville again? I swear, that mutt is so fat he doesn't even bother to chase cats anymore. I couldn't find him when I woke up this morning."

"No, your grace. Preparations for the feast are going smoothly."

"Did my son's entourage throw all your plans into chaos?"

"No, your grace. My staff can deal with any number of mages and Circle Tower emissaries suddenly dropping in at our front gate and demanding dinner. Your other children, however were in earlier. They too wanted a snack. I gave them one and sent them packing."

"Ryn and Dare were up before I was? The world must be ending. Did a Blight strike again and no one thought to inform me?"

Hax chuckled. "They did ask if I had seen you. I assume they wish to speak to you."

Aedan finished the last of his food and set the plate on a table. "Well you know where I like to be at this time of the morning. Please ensure that preparations for the welcoming feast go as planned. See you later, Hax."

"Teyrn Cousland," said the old cook, inclining his head.

Aedan left the kitchen and climbed up the battlements to the top of the tallest watchtower, which men had dubbed 'Griffon's Peak.' He returned the salute of the guard on duty and began his morning ritual.

Every day before dawn, Aedan liked to get in a strenuous workout at Griffon's Peak. He exercised, practiced his swordplay and acrobatics in the biting cold wind and was rewarded with a breathtaking view of the sun rising over his lands and castle. Up here he could make as much mess and noise as he pleased without disturbing anybody (except for the guards on duty, but they had learned to take it in their stride).

Aedan removed his rough sleeping shift, standing only in his wool leggings. Cords of thick muscle stood out on his arms and legs, chest and shoulders. An observer would have noted the mass of scars adorning his body, each one a memento of a different battle. A puckered cut from a darkspawn blade. A partially-healed furrow from a glancing arrow shot. Patches of skin marked with burns from drake and dragonfire. With streaks of grey creeping into his black hair and a frequent look of weariness in his grey eyes, the Lord of Highever looked every one of his fifty odd years. Yet he moved with the speed and skill of a man half his age.

Aedan cut the air with a sword, relishing the sound it made as it slashed around in a complicated arc. There was a time when he could not hear it over the guttural roars of his enemies and the cries and shouts of his comrades. Over time he had grown to appreciate the simple art of swordplay. It was a dance, a deadly dance in which form and skill often went out the window. Aedan could recall many times when his cuts were less than impressive, his attacks as desperate as an amateur handed a blade for the first time.

With peace and long years he had refined and almost perfected his skill with a sword, whether it was a legendary weapon of an ancient warrior-king inscribed with mighty runes crackling with primal magic, or a simple steel blade fresh from the forge. He used a shield as well, favoring it over another blade or using a heavy, two-handed weapon. Shields had saved his life countless times, and on the battlefield he turned into a force of nature, an avatar of destruction and death against which no darkspawn could stand and live.

Chattering voices and hurrying footsteps shook him out of his thoughts. Someone was coming up the stairs to the watchtower. A pair of youngsters, by the sound of it.

"I told you, we should check the Griffon's Peak again. Father should have woken up by now." A young woman's voice, clear and strong. It was not sweet or melodious, and it would never be, but it carried an inherent air of authority and nobility.

"We checked everywhere else in the castle already. Maybe he's still sleeping." The voice of a younger man this time, a man barely past the threshold of youth. It was cheerful and merry, its owner fond of jests and song.

"Father never sleeps past dawn, I heard a guard say so."

"You don't suppose he's talking to Rolann, do you? It's been a while since he last came and they might be catching up."

"I doubt that, Rolann rarely wakes up this early. I reckon he's still in bed."

"Well if he is here then you'll give me your best bow, the one made of dragonbone."

"I'm not agreeing to any such -"

The door opened and the lord of Highever came face to face with his two younger children and heirs.

"Father!" said Aeryn, surprised. She was the older of the two, a young woman of about eighteen winters. She was almost as tall as Aedan, with long red hair and delicate features that earned many admiring glances from young noblemen. While every bit as beautiful as her famed mother, Aeryn much preferred wielding a longsword or galloping full-tilt on an armored charger clad in heavy plate and brandishing a lance to sitting quietly in a corner and sewing.

Her favourite tale was of Aveline the First, female chevalier of Orlesian legend and Aedan secretly thought it was only a matter of time before his daughter became the new standard bearer for women warriors throughout Ferelden. Already she could best several knights of Aedan's personal guard in everyday sparring and was well known in the tournament and jousting scene. Off the battlefield Aeryn was something of an introvert and kept mostly to herself. Her best friends were Aedan's knights, much to her mother's despair, and they had adopted her as their unofficial leader. Aeryn was just as skilled as directing men in battle as she was in taking part in one.

"Hi dad!" said Darien excitedly. "Aeryn, you owe me a dragonbone longbow." Darien was the youngest child, a boy of sixteen, shorter than his siblings but broad in the chest and shoulders. He had red hair like his sister, though of a lighter shade, but had also inherited his mother's gift of archery. Never seen without a bow and a quiver of arrows, Darien had an unerring knack of placing an arrow exactly where he wanted it to go.

On hunting trips it was Darien who inevitably brought back the most game, and he had won so many archery tournaments under no less than four different names people no longer wanted to compete against him. In temperament he was the opposite of his cool and collected older sister, always ready to start a fight or take action. He made friends just as easily as he made enemies though, and could sing a song and compose a tune as easily as his sister could swing a sword or ride a horse.

"Aeryn, Darien. Were you looking for me?" asked Aedan, sheathing his sword and wiping the sweat from his brow. Despite the chill he had worked up quite a bit of it and his body steamed in the cool morning air. He sat down on a bench and took a swig of water from a stone bottle, motioning for his children to join him.

"Yes father. We wanted to...you know. Talk. About what's going to happen," said Aeryn, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. If he had to pick one thing about his daughter that he loved the most, it would be her courage. Aeryn had a steady well of courage that never ran dry. When she made a mistake or did something wrong, Aeryn would always admit it to her father's face, something Aedan found difficult to do when he was at that age himself.

"Dear heart, there's plenty of time to talk. I'm not going away just yet. But I assure you, I will answer any questions you might have before I leave. For now, I just want to enjoy my morning workout."

"I understand, father," said Aeryn.

"And you Dare?"

"I just went along to make sure that Ryn stayed out of trouble," said Darien flippantly, shrugging the quiver off his back and setting his bow on the ground in order to sit more comfortably.

"Funny, since you're the one that always starts it," muttered Aeryn.

"Ah sis, you wouldn't be anywhere without me and you know it," said Darien, grinning at his older sister.

"Darien," said Aedan gently. "I know when you have something on your mind."

"Well...yeah," admitted Darien, looking away. Aedan laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, we'll all have time to talk later. As a family. This I promise. But for now...would both of you care to put an old man through his paces?"

Darien glanced at Aeryn, a wry smile on his face. Aeryn took a moment to think before nodding.

"Go easy on me now," said Aedan, picking up a blunted practice sword.

"Sis if you fall for that I'm not responsible for the bruises you're gonna get," remarked Darien, picking up a quarterstaff and positioning himself in an opening stance.

"Oh don't worry about me little brother," replied Aeryn, brandishing a modified warhammer, hollowed out in the centre so as to be safe for practice.

Aedan faced his two children, one on either side. Then he attacked.

The guard appreciated the display of skill the old man was putting on show. Darting from one kid to another, targeting their unguarded limbs, their centre of mass, their necks, but always stopping his blows inches before they actually connected, something which some masters could not accomplish. If this was a real fight his children would have been killed many times over, but they went at it gleefully, laughing and shouting, trying to land even a single hit on their father.

Darien flailed his staff and Aeryn swung her hammer about, but Aedan was always a step or half-step ahead of them. Eventually he began to tire, and Darien tripped him up with a lucky sweep of the legs, followed by Aeryn knocking the sword out of his hands. Flat on his back, chest heaving, Aedan called for surrender.

"I see the weaponmaster has been training you well."

"You're still our best teacher dad," said Darien, helping Aedan to his feet.

"It shows. You might even surpass me eventually," said Aedan, taking another gulp of water.

"Hard to imagine anyone being a better warrior than you, father. Even the Qunari I spoke to were in awe of your skill. Well, as much in awe as a Qunari could show," said Aeryn, dusting herself off.

"Oh I don't know. You are my children, after all. Everything in time," said Aedan. A faint glow on the horizon caught his attention.

"Look kids. Look at that. Isn't it beautiful?"

The green fields, hills, woods and rivers that encompassed Highever's farmland were gradually lit up by the rising sun. Aedan stood with an arm around the shoulder of each of his children, admiring the view.

"What a sight, eh? After all this time it still takes my breath away."

"I recall you saying the same thing about me once, my lord."

Aedan turned around, smiling widely. Only one woman in the world had that sweet gentle voice that could soothe even a raging bereskarn and make the master composers in Orlais beg and weep to hear just another note.

Leliana of Orlais stood behind the three of them, wearing a robe of deep blue wool. Her red hair tumbled loose about her shoulders, tossed about a little by the wind. Her face was a little more lined, her figure a little well rounded from the first time he had met her in Lothering, but she was still his Leliana, his bard and bride. The woman who kept her faith when everyone else was losing theirs and in doing so, enabling him to believe in himself and fulfill his destiny as the man who saved all of Ferelden.

"Aeryn, Darien. Please go and make yourselves presentable. The guests will soon be arriving for the welcoming feast for Rolann and his men, and I don't want you looking like a couple of peasant children after a day in the fields."

"Yes mother," chorused the children, and disappeared down the tower steps. Aedan wrapped his arms around his wife and laid his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of her hair. He caressed her neck, marvelling at the feel of her skin under his calloused hands, making her tremble just a little.

Leliana embraced him back just as passionately, pressing herself against his chest and hugging him tightly. Even after all these years, her body was still as firm as when she was a maid, making his heart beat a little faster. Aedan released his grip and bent down for a kiss, which Leliana obligingly gave. Aedan loved the feel and taste of his lips on hers. They'd spent entire nights doing nothing but kissing, until their lips were sore and they had to stop.

"My lady."

"I woke up and you were gone."

"You know I don't sleep much."

"I don't like it."

"After all this time?"

"Every single time."

The sun had almost completely risen over the horizon. Aedan could see men and women working in the fields and walking Highever's streets, going about their daily business.

"I love you, you know. So much," said Aedan quietly, twining his fingers with hers.

"I love you too. Do you remember what we said to each other at the gates of Denerim, before we fought the archdemon?"

Dragon Age 9:30

Denerim

Aedan looked upon the army he'd gathered, the men and dwarves, elves and mages who'd answered the call to defend the land and its people. They stood before the walls of Ferelden's capital, broken and torn by the machinations of the enemy. Smoke rose from the ruined city, clouding the air and turning the sky a dull grey. Denerim was teeming with genlocks, hurlocks and ogres of every stripe and colour. It was the biggest horde in recorded history, having indulged in bloodlust and slaughter far beyond the inclinations of the most depraved human. And yet the army did not care. All eyes were on Aedan, the man they trusted to lead them not only into battle, but to victory.

"Today, no matter who you are, you fight alongside a Ferelden. Man or dwarf or elf, you chose to follow my command and save this land. I swear to you that my order and my king will never forget the service you will perform today. Whoever falls in battle falls as an honoured saviour of Ferelden. Whoever survives will build a new life as a subject of Ferelden, one in which your voices are heard and your sacrifices are not forgotten. We fight not for this city, this heap of rock. We fight for ourselves, for the chance to live without darkspawn threatening our families. Every 'spawn you slay brings us that bit closer to the Ferelden which you have been waiting for all your lives. So this I say! Go forth and leave none alive to breathe the clean air of our land! Let's kick some arse!"

The roar of approval that followed was deafening.

Aedan shook hands with a host of officers, received their good wishes and gave some of his own. Then he felt a hand close around his and pull him away into an empty tent.

Despite the heavy plate armour he wore, despite the noise and the bustle of the army camp around them, Aedan held the woman he loved close and found a perfect moment amidst the chaos. She was clad in drakeskin battledress, had a huge recurved Orlesian bow slung over her shoulder, and Aedan could not recall ever having seen something as remotely beautiful and dangerous in his entire life.

"Leli love."

"Aedan, there's something I need to tell you. Before we do this together."

"Yes?"

"Aedan, I'm in love with you heart and soul. I want to be by your side and help you shoulder whatever burdens you may have for the rest of your life. You've done for me than anyone else has ever done before. You are my dearest friend and my love, you lit my path through darkness and I will stand with you to whatever end. This day we will forge a legend of our own that will be remembered and sung throughout the ages."

"Leliana, I couldn't have made it this far without you. There were so many times when I wanted to give up, so many battles where I thought I wouldn't survive. But every time I saw you fighting, I found the strength to push on. For you. And I don't really know if there is a Maker, not after all I've been through...but if he does, I am forever in his debt for bringing us together. I love you."

Shift

Aedan recalled what she said as though it was yesterday.

"Yes, I do."

"And do you know what's changed since then?"

"No."

"Nothing at all."

They watched the sun rise together, side by side.

"Leliana, I need to tell the children. I need to tell them the whole truth. It's something that I must do."

Leliana looked away. "I suppose you must. Although unearthing long-buried secrets that in my view are best left forgotten will not be easy for either of us."

"They are my children and yours. They deserve the truth. How they choose to handle it will determine the course of their futures."

Aedan drew his wife close to him and enjoyed this small bit of peace and calm before the coming storm.