It's amazing how your whole perspective changes when you're staring death straight in the eyes. Not that Alexa hadn't been doing just that for months on end, since the day her Mabari hound had woken her up out of a deep sleep. Since the day Arl Howe destroyed her family and her home in the name of righteous vengeance. Even now, knowing that her hands had been the ones to slit his traitorous throat, his name made her lips curl into a sneer. She had been living moment to moment while battling for her life and the lives of those who had sworn to fight with and for her. And now this was it, her last stand between all that was good and evil. It would all end with her and her life. It was not the life that pretty little Alexa Cousland had always pictured for herself, not with her pale, porcelain skin and long, brilliant red hair. She was tall for a female, but most men still stood half a head above her. Learning to wield a sword at a young age, she'd stayed slim with lean, corded muscles that burned now with exertion.
No, this was not the life she was bred for. But it was the life she was born for.
Memories swirled around her mind as she stared up at the archdemon. Memories of blood and death, of her blade slicing through Howe's throat with sickening ease. Memories of Morrigan coming to her, offering to sleep with Alistair to save her life then stalking off in anger, abandoning her to the fate the witch had claimed to want to keep her from when Alexa had told her no, she couldn't do it. She couldn't sacrifice the happiness of the man she loved by forcing him to be with a woman he couldn't stand.
Of course there was regret. As he steeled himself beside her, shield battered and covered in gore, the Warden found herself wanting to do nothing but hide in Alistair's arms and close her eyes, wishing desperately it would all go away. She had done that when she was a child with a nightmare, crawling into her father's lap and hiding from the demons that had plagued her mind. But she couldn't do that anymore. She wasn't a little girl anymore and he was dead and she felt so tired and alone with the burden of the world on her shoulders.
Her earlier conversation with Riordan reverberated through her mind. She was going to die. And even if she didn't, she only had another thirty years – give or take – left. She would never have children, a fact that had shaken her to her very core. It didn't matter that it was improbable, not impossible; her mind conveniently forgot that piece of information as she cursed her barren womb. The Couslands were the oldest family in Fereldan, older than the Thierins, and she would not be able to continue that bloodline. She was the last of her bloodline and it would end with her. Her idle fantasies of small children with her pale silver eyes and Alistair's honey blonde hair were shattered.
Alistair's battle cry shook her from her reverie and Alexa turned slightly to shield herself from the darkspawn that had somehow made it beyond the dwarves that helped protect them. He took the majority of the blow on his shield, spinning into action as Wynne stepped up behind him. Tiny, Alexa's Mabari, launched himself at the darkspawn and she took the opportunity to step away from the group and towards the injured archdemon. Tiny had taken to Alistair and she felt comfort knowing he would keep the King safe while she was gone.
The heavy plate of her boots thudded loudly on the ground as she launched herself at the archdemon. All those memories that haunted her just moments ago were replaced with the sound of her blood as it rushed violently in her ears. She could practically taste the bloodlust. She dropped her own shield and sword, pulling a dwarven greatsword out of a nearby corpse as she ran, charging the archdemon as her lithe body picking up speed despite her heavy armor. As the blade sliced through the archdemon's body, spatters of blood dripping down onto her face and hair, Alexa dropped to her knees and slid underneath the length of the dragon. The adrenaline of battle had begun to ebb already but that was alright, she had the resolve to finish this. She had committed to this, to sacrificing her life to save those she loved. What could have been, what should have been, was about to end. She rolled out of the way as it slumped forward and for one brief moment let herself tear hear gaze away from death to look back at Alistair.
I love you, her mind said as her eyes met his. And she saw something in those honey colored orbs, a swirling guilt that suddenly explained his awkward behavior towards her, that should have made her pause. It clicked into place in her devious, brilliant political mind. And she knew, even as she turned and drove the sword into the head of the archdemon. Light poured out and around them, enveloping her in a heat that should have rendered the flesh from her bones. And she knew. Her life would not be forfeit. Her resolve and preparations were for naught.
He had betrayed her.
Somewhere in her mind she knew it had been to save her life. He had sacrificed something of himself to save her, just as she had readied herself to sacrifice for him. But he had betrayed her. Something cracked in the heart of Alexa Cousland and a tear rolled down her face. And then the world went dark.