A/N: Takes place in an AU where my canon Warden (Elizabeth Cousland) made the ultimate sacrifice, despite planning on being Alistair's queen. Written to 'Gold' by Imagine Dragons.
Sometimes he cursed her name.
Ellie had been the one to make him king. She had been the one who had made him think this was a good idea. That he could do this. She had been the one who had spun the plans and had a vision for Ferelden. She had laughed and kissed him and told him that she knew these people, she could teach him how to rule these people, she could help him make the changes they had talked about on dark roads at night as they slogged through the kingdom, talking to the lowliest peasants of the Hinterlands, the elves in the wilds, nobles in Denerim, mages in the Tower, everyone and anyone.
She was gone now. She had left him here, alone, on this Maker forsaken throne he had only accepted because he believed her dream that they could make things better.
Sometimes he cursed the Maker.
Who would bring him such a good time and then cut it so short? Six months of happiness with Duncan and the Wardens, only to have them all slaughtered while he was sent to safety. One year, only a year, of Elizabeth Cousland. She had streaked across his life like a shooting star, illuminating darkness he hadn't even been aware he was sitting in. Then she was taken too and if the Wardens were right and her soul really was destroyed by the arch demon what hope was there of ever seeing her again?
Sometimes he cursed Morrigan.
She had told Ellie her plan and let her decide, only mentioning after the battle was over and Ellie was dead in his arms that there had been another way. Someone had insisted she had come back because she cared. Not enough to save Ellie. Not enough to give him a chance to save her. He would have done it. He would have done anything to save her.
Sometimes he cursed her family name and their notions of duty and honor.
'Duty,' Fergus Cousland had said tears in his eyes. 'She did her duty.' He was proud of her. Proud she had sacrificed herself. Proud she hadn't taken the way out. Alistair had never seen her give anything less than her everything. He shouldn't have been surprised. But they had promised.
Every day he cursed himself.
It should have been him to take the final blow. If she wouldn't give him the chance to save them both, it should have been his sword in the archdemon's throat. She had ordered him to stay at the gate and he had protested. She had insisted. They would have argued if it hadn't been in front of everyone. So he had let her go. Let her walk away from him with Shale, Wynne, and Oghren. He had taken her mabari and followed. Showing himself only to save them, because Oghren didn't watch Ellie's back in battle like he did. She had glared at him. 'I told you to stay behind!' But she had kissed him anyway, relief warring with fear in her eyes, before they dove back into the fray.
But he hadn't been fast enough. She had slipped away from him on the roof of Fort Drakon, charging through the clusters of darkspawn.
He cursed himself.
He should have saved her.
Now he lived in a golden cage, with no one he could truly trust to turn to. Every day he thought his heart got a little colder and he cared about everything a little less. He woke up from dreams about her and had to drag himself out of bed, through the day. Maybe part of him had died with her that day. He felt like part of him was dead and gone.
They said he would get over it, but he would never get over her. He would never forget her.
Surrounded by opulence, bedecked with gold and jewels and stupid outfits she would laugh at, some days Eamon grew frustrated and shouted at him that he had the world at his fingertips, he was the most powerful man in Ferelden.
He cursed himself.