Disclaimer: Bioware and EA own the Dragon Age franchise not me. So please don't sue.
CHAPTER ONE
Atop Fort Drakon, the Archdemon roared a mighty roar of pain. It had fallen to only two Grey Wardens they had rallied the people of Fereldan to engage the darkspawn horde. The mighty dragon—if it could still be called that—collapsed, its wings cut to pieces it wouldn't be escaping now. Alastair turned to the other Warden, and looked at him with such sorrow, the Archdemon sensed that they knew what happened to the Warden that struck the killing blow.
"So…which one of us should do the deed?" Alistair asked, looking behind the other Warden at the Archdemon.
The Archdemon was exhausted, the fight had consumed all its dark powers, and it was— for the time— helpless.
"Don't fret my friend. I will be the one to strike the blow. May the Maker watch over me." The Warden said, he turned so fast that Alistair couldn't stop him. Running towards the Archdemon, the Warden pulled out his great-sword, Ageless, from a darkspawn's corpses that it had been sunk it into much earlier in the battle. The Archdemon regained some movement and positioned itself to lunge at the oncoming Warden. Time seemed to slow down for the Warden as he approached the great tainted Old God, he sensed the creature call out for…mercy?
Is this what Garahel heard when he slew an Archdemon? The Warden thought, he ignored the cry for mercy. The Archdemon opened its mouth and lunged, the Warden crouched and propped his swords up into the tainted beasts neck using the force of the beasts own attack to wound it further creating a long gaping wound in its neck, its final desperate act mortally wounded it. The beasts head, crumpled back onto the ground its head now in front of the Warden, blood quickly seeped out of its gaping neck wound. The Warden looked at the fallen beast, this was the creature that began the Fifth Blight almost half a year ago, the creature that lead the Darkspawn horde to Ostagar and now the beast was half dead. Only half dead.
The Warden considered for a moment the implications of the death that awaited when the final blow was administered. What of Fereldan? Would she recover from the Blight? So many questions that there were only answers for if one were to live past the Archdemon's death. The tainted god snarled, the wound on its neck began to heal its pale white eye opened and looked at the Warden. Without a second thought the Warden roared and violently impaled the Archdemon in the eye with his sword.
The act was met with a glowing white light, the light covered the Archdemon's body, and suddenly began to envelop the Warden as well. Alastair, Leliana, Sten and Wynne looked on as the Warden struggled to keep his blade in place, the Archdemon was not dead yet and they were helpless to assist their friend for fear that the Archdemon might be born anew.
The Warden felt when the Archdemon's soul entered his body, it was not a pleasant feeling. The pain was near unbearable, the creature tried its best to extinguish the Warden's soul time and time again. Time didn't feel important not when an Old God was attempting to take over. It felt like an eternal struggle, the Warden felt his and the Old God's life force ebbing away as they struggle against one another. The Warden was so close to death, the cold embrace of death was all around. It was a strange feeling. A feeling of a well-deserved death. The Warden protected many lives on the journey to unite the land against a great and evil threat. Grey Warden protected the innocent and fight against injustice no matter from Darkspawn or human.
The Warden embraced the Grey Warden philosophy early on and followed it up until now. Yet something felt…off.
There was so much yet unfinished. So much that still needed to be done so much that the Warden couldn't ignore. The Warden held on to what little life force remained, the memories of the good times shared with friend, and loved ones. The Warden held on tightly to these feelings and memories holding on as the soul of the Old God began to be destroyed. And then the Archdemon exploded sending the Warden flying way from the centre of the explosion. The explosion could be seen from all of Denerim, it hailed the end of the Blight the Darkspawn fled from the city in the middle of the battle, now afraid at the loss of the Old Gods call.
The army killed many of the fleeing Darkspawn as they could, the horde fled as fast as they could even ignoring injuries that were sustained during the fighting. Humans, elves, dwarfs and mages rejoiced as the Darkspawn ran away with their tails between their legs—so to speak.
Bann Teagan, looked on at Fort Drakon the purple explosion that illuminated the orange-red sky above was gone. Smoke raised high into the sky, Teagan wondered, what had happened up there? It had been three hours since the Darkspawn retreat his heart sank at the thought of the loss King Alistair, no word was sent about the kings fate, and rumors had begun to quickly circle around the Redcliffe soldiers, that Alistair was slain by a Darkspawn before even arriving at Fort Drakon. Teagan held onto the hope that the kings fellow Grey Warden had shielded him for the killing blow. He cursed himself for thinking that way. After all the Warden went through to unite the lands against Loghain and to focus their attention on the Blight, the idea of the Warden dying shamed the memory of the men and women who had already laid down their lives following him. Besides, Alistair was a Grey Warden to he had been fighting Darkspawn longer than any of the soldiers here.
After three hours of waiting, word finally reached Teagan, an Elven massager arrived with a message for all. "The King lives the Archdemon is dead. But the Warden—" The Elf froze, he did not want to bare the news not now, not when the Warden's fate was so—uncertain.
"Well out with it boy!" Teagan snapped.
"He is critical condition. The mages believe he is dying." The Elf said, raising his arms to protect his face from a blow that did not come.
The poor lad. He had been raised in the service of Arl Urien Kendells' son Vaughan, who—before his capture by Arl Rendon Howe—beat the Elf's from the Alienage and raped their women all to satisfy his twisted desires. There was no use trying to calm the lad down, he would have to wait until he calmed down before he asked another question. Luckily, that was long the boy noticed that he wasn't in pain and relaxed.
"Dying? How bad are the injuries?" Teagan asked.
"That's the thing…there is no wound on the Warden, only a few minor cuts. Not enough to kill a person. The mages have moves him to a make shift hospice in Fort Drakon. King Alistair asked that you come at once."
"A hospice, is that really necessary?" Teagan pressed.
"It was the Kings order I believe."
It had taken at least an hour to get to Fort Drakon. Denerim was still in chaos, much of the main routes through the city were either blocked off with rubble or filled with the corpse of the dead—both human and Darkspawn. The Chantry begrudgingly allowed the Mages from the Circle Tower to help heal the injured under strict Templar supervision. Tensions between Mage and Templars didn't help one bit, Teagan and his men had to intervene in Chantry matters several times.
The fort was a mess to say the least, four hours and the place still looked like a battlefield. Bodies lying around some propped up on wooden spikes and half eaten, a horrible fate. Teagan wouldn't even wish that fate on his enemies. Eamon's forces secured the fort, a few of his men barged through the entrance carrying the bodies of dead soldiers to be giving a proper funeral with all the rites from the Chantry to see their souls off to the Makers side. Teagan noticed a few men hauling off Darkspawn bodies off to some place, presumably to be burned to ashes.
Moving through the large metal doors of the fort Tegan and his men were surprised to see Eamon and Alistair talking in the "lobby" as it came to be known under Loghain's rule as regent.
"No! I refuse to believe it!" Alistair yelled, turning his back on Arl Eamon.
"Alistair…the Warden is dead. Accept that fact and move on."
"No! You shall it with your own eyes. The breath…"
"You're the only one who saw that. The mages themselves said that the Warden is dead."
Alistair sighed. It had been a long, long day for all he knew he could have saw his friend draw breath. He knew that a Grey Warden who slays and Archdemon would die, he just didn't think that his best friend would be the one to take the blow.
Teagan remained silent, the news was dire indeed. Teagan wished he hadn't heard it. The person who rallied all of Fereldan and ended the civil war was dead. A great loss for the country, and to the Grey Warden's.
Regaining his composure. Alistair turned to face Eamon, tears had built up but he kept them back. For the time being. "I'll see to it personally that no one in Fereldan forget the sacrifice my friend made."
Eamon gave Alistair a gentle compassionate nod, Alistair did not need to say those words for Eamon and Teagan knew that the Warden would be remembered regardless.
"So. What now? I can scarcely believe the Blight is over now." Teagan interrupted.
"There is much to be done. That much is certain. We will need to restore Denerim before we move onto anything else." Eamon said, turning to face his brother.
Both the Guerrin brothers armour's were blood stained, Teagan's armour had chips and dents it was clear that he saw more of battle today than his aging brother—although Eamon fought against the Orlesian Empires' occupation years before Teagan joined. Teagan sighed and turned to glace at Alistair.
"Order will be hard to restore, but I'm confident that trade and commerce can resume within two days." He said.
Alistair gave his half-uncle a serious look that Teagan had never seen. "We best get to work then."
The cold feeling grew stronger with each passing moment. The Wardens eyes snapped open only to find a strange place of various fluctuating hues. The place felt—different—than the Fade and somewhat familiar. Is this dead? It was hard to image anything else. The temperature took another dip, now every breath could be seen. The Warden turned to look around the surroundings, all looked the same, fluctuating hues, and nothing else the Warden looked down and noticed he was naked. He touched one of his arrow shaped scars on his chest he got during the Battle of Ostagar, when the Darkspawn overwhelm the King's army and flooded into the Tower of Ishal. Strange to think that was half a year ago, he looked at the ground he was on—or lack thereof—it seemed as though he was floating on mid-air, or was the ground the same as everything around him?
A noise drew his attention, he turned around and noticed a shadow forming into a human male shape. He was shocked when the shadow formed into his deceased father, Teyrn Bryce Cousland.
"It's nice to see you again pup." Bryce said, he was looked the same as when the Warden saw him last, blood stained ripped noble clothing and white as snow.
"Father? Is that truly you?" The Warden asked, hesitantly.
Suddenly, The Warden's and Bryce's surrounding turned into Castle Cousland's main dining hall the table was full of delicious well cooked meats and fine wines for many counties.
"Tomas" Bryce started. "You are not dead. But you are on the precipice, I came here to guide you back to the world."
"Guide me back? How?" Tomas looked at his body, full dressed in his blue satin noble clothing that he once wore before joining the Grey Wardens. The feeling was soft as he remembered it, but it was so long since he last wore it he'd almost forgotten its feel. The dining hall was empty the food untouched, the wine still in fine small silver goblets. He remembered they were bought in Orlais when Bryce visited the country a few years before Oren's birth. Oren was the first grandchild of Bryce and Tomas' nephew. It was strange to see them again but at the same time comforting. Bryce looked around the hall and laughed a little. His appearance change to that before he was murdered by Arl Rendon Howe, Bryce's former friend and comrade-in-arms.
"All in good time pup, there were so many things I want to say to you before I…died. But I've seen the amazing deeds you have done, I'm more than proud of you." He said, holding back tears. "We did all we could to keep you and Fergus safe, but it wasn't enough. I'm so, so sorry I didn't do better."
Tomas looked at his father, he, at first regretted leaving Highever with Duncan, but he accepted that if he had stayed he too would be dead. "You have nothing to be sorry for dad. Howe moved against you when you least expected it, Fergus and I survived we can rebuild Highever and restore the Cousland name."
Bryce looked at his son and smiled, then he frowned in remembering. "But little Oren didn't. That will kill Fergus it will make it difficult to rebuild." He was correct of course. Fergus will find it difficult to rule in the castle where his family was slain to kill the Couslands' bloodline. Arl Howe succeeded in killing Fergus' heir, Fergus himself would find it hard to commit to another woman to conceive another child.
And Tomas himself was a Grey Warden, though he could steward the lands of Highever in Fergus' place, the taint within him made his lifespan short and conceiving a child difficult. Bryce looked back as the room they stood in changed again, this time to the throne room in Denerim, where the Landsmeet took place. It was empty and still. Too quiet.
Was this in the past or the present, the fighting had reached the palace district but there were no reports saying the Darkspawn had reached the Royal Palace.
"Son. This is where we part for the last time until death claims you. Be warned the Darkspawn threat will continue for months until you end it. Your task is far from over." Bryce said placing a hand firmly on his son's shoulder.
"It never ends does it?" Tomas said exasperated.
"For you … No it does not." Bryce then embraced his son in a tight fatherly hug as the area around them dissolved into a bright light. "You will not only be needed to fight Darkspawn but a threat unlike any the world has seen. You must steel yourself. You know to win a war sacrifices must be made a Grey Warden knows this better than any race out there. Make the Couslands proud my son!" Bryce's final words echoed in him as his father disappeared into the brightness. Tomas closed his eyes to shield himself from the seemingly harmfully light. He could hear Alistair's voice, an echo of sorts as the light disappeared, replaced by endless blackness.
Then he heard Wynne's voice, it was filled with sorrow he'd only heard her once when she was sad and it left an imprint on him. He caught a verse from a song, the voice belonged to Leliana, she and Tomas shared a passionate moment together during their adventure to fight the Blight. But they called it off, the thought of an early death forced him to break off their relationship to spare her from the heart break that his death would bring. Though it was true. He had died and she was heartbroken, he had failed in preventing that. The song was interrupted by a loud belch from the dwarf Oghren. He must have been drinking again. When did he ever stop drinking? He must be very drunk, drunker than usual. Following the belch was a sad whimper from Barkspawn, Tomas would never forget his Mabari hound. He named his Mabari, Barkspawn, as a little joke after hearing of the Fourth Blight from his teacher, Aldous.
Hearing enough of his comrade's sadness, Tomas forced himself to get up. He opened his eyes, his vision was all blurred and heard the gasps of shocked men and women. His vision cleared mostly and he saw Alistair staring at him, like he had seen a ghost.
Tomas cracked a smile. "What did I miss?" He asked putting humour behind the question.
Alistair smiled back, he realized that his friend was alive and he was happy to have him back amongst the living.
"Oh not much. You died. We all cried and now your back jokes on us."