This is my entry for TheDragonAges OC competition over at deviantArt (thesnowtigress = artemiskat on dA). It's the first time I entered a contest over there. I'm not expecting to win, I never win anything (this is the part where my friend points out the hockey tickets, the movie tickets, and the door prize I have won in the past few years, and this is the part where I say, they don't count, they're not in the same category as a writing contest/talent thing, hehe). Ramblings aside, this is based on a work in progress. I just wanted to post it here to, shall I say, keep all my shit together in one place. Haha. Enough blabbering from me. Enjoy, it might be the last piece of writing from me for a long while, depending on when/if I ever finish the work in progress (it's already a monster and I'm not a third done; I seem to have unintentionally challenged myself to surpass The Darkness of Winter). Have a good day! -artemiskat

Last Day

Beneath the gallows I am held. A rope is placed around my neck. How did I get here?

All I know is that I don't belong here. Or do I? I deserve this, somehow, deep down inside, I know.

My thoughts swirl in confusion. Coherence is hard to find, ever since I saw his head on a spike, dripping in blood, and sorrow forever etched onto his face. Any determination I once possessed has departed.

What do I fight for? I don't know anymore. The choice was to betray my people, or this. It was a simple choice, even if I did question my purpose. The greater good over the self – my mother always preached that. I hope you are proud of me now mother.

Hindsight is a curse to me now. I should have done this, I shouldn't have done that. My thoughts just want to explode in guilt.

Guilt. I am guilty.

My eyes turn to the heavens. Vultures hover overhead, waiting patiently to peck at the traitor's head, to get a piece of me. A deep shuddering takes a hold of me as I remember that day, not so long ago, when I tried to make everything right. The vultures were there, too. I chased them off. Who would do the same for me?

I insisted I wasn't a child, that I wasn't just a girl. Now I know the truth. I can't even stand up straight, for my knees shake uncontrollably. The executioner must hold me up. No matter how hard I try to put on an air of defiance, to jut out my chin in pride, all I seem able to do is quiver and sob. My mother would have no problem standing up straight, defiant to her last breath. But me, I am just a child after all.

The jeering crowd before me is hazy, my welled up tears the culprit. Mother Bramimonde's prayers mingle with the people of Jader's incomprehensible shouts. Somewhere below me one of the people mutters in Dalish. None of these things interest me as the executioner tightens the noose around my neck. My breath is constricted in my throat, the rope chafes painfully against my neck. I don't want the Maker, I don't want the gods, I only want my mother.

"Mamae." A choking whisper. I thought I saw her among the crowd.

"You're all the same," the executioner grumbles. "You all beg for your mothers in the end."

It was only wishful thinking. A burlap sack is placed over my head. Soon, the trap door I stand upon will be opened and I will plunge through, my fall broken by the noose. No one is coming for me, not Oliver's promised friend, not one rebel, and the most painful one to bear – not my mother. I must resign myself to this fate. I must make her proud for once in my life. I never intended it to be in my last moments.

I feel the trap door tremble beneath my feet.

So... this is the end... in darkness I entered this world, in darkness I shall leave it...