** A/N: This is a one-shot, really, but also serves as a bit of a prequel to a fic I will be writing in the weeks to come. It will deal with poor Elle's journey out of this place into a happy new place. A place featuring the inestimable and super-smexy Bann Teagan, of course ;)

Please review…I will be forever grateful.

"What will you do now, Warden?"

"I need to take him to Weisshaupt, Your Majesty." Elle didn't even try to hide the hitch in her voice. She saw the queen's normally steely gaze soften in sympathy, and she could hardly bear it. It was the way everyone looked at her now, since that day on the roof of Fort Drakon. Since the day he took a sword and drove it through the archdemon's head.

Through her heart.

This was supposed to be a happy day, a celebration of the victory over the blight, veneration of a hero who gave his life for his country, and a heroine who still lived. What they couldn't know was that they really mourned two dead people that day, one in body, and one in soul. Elle was empty now, just a shell, really. Oh, her friends and companions knew she was grieving, but none of them understood the true depth of loss she felt when he left her alone on that roof. She thought she had known grief when Highever was lost and her family slaughtered, but that had been a grief fueled by anger and vengeance, and she'd never had the time or even the desire to sink into true despair.

This…this was more. This was lonely. She wanted to be numb, for the pain to end, but as she saw the expectant look the queen was giving her now, she knew she had to do this last thing before she could be alone with her despair. Alone with him.

She turned and made her way slowly toward the doors of the hall, sparing glances for her friends and a small hug for her brother, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop, or she would break. Duty called, and she couldn't be broken to do her duty. If there was one thing he had taught her, it was that. Duty above all else. Above family, above home, above desire.

Above love.

She had been so angry at him for that. She was angry at herself for not being stronger, for not knocking him out and taking up that sword herself. When she woke up after that last battle, the fine things in her room in the castle couldn't stand up to that anger. It was a small blessing, she supposed, that her friends and the servants had let her scream and throw things, leaving her undisturbed. They knew what she had found with him, and what she had lost. After she had collapsed on the bed, Leliana, Maker bless her, had come in and held her silently, knowing there couldn't be any words to dull the pain.

The anger was gone now. She almost missed it, because it was at least familiar, something recognizable and uniquely hers to fill her up. Now she just felt like the emptiness was going to swallow her, and she had nothing to hold on to. The lifeline she had when grieving for her family was severed, the cold remnants lying in state outside the palace. And the anger covered up that other horrible emotion that she didn't want to acknowledge, didn't want to feel. But it kept bubbling to the surface.

Guilt.

Oh yes, that was the true pain. The knowledge that he would still be here if not for her foolish pride and imaginary jealousy. Elle had tried to hate Morrigan for being the cause, but she knew it wasn't the swamp witch's fault. Not at all. It was her choice, and hers alone, that had doomed him, and ultimately, herself. It was this guilt that would be the end of her, she knew. The emptiness, the loss, the pain, it all stemmed from here.

As she signaled the guard to open the doors, she wondered how the crowd would react if they knew the woman they cheered was a murderer. The killer of her true love by way of selfishness and inaction. She doubted the crowds would be so thick or so loud.

Elle stepped out onto the balcony above the throng, her face set into a bland mask of emotionless detachment, hand raised to wave. She wondered then if they could hear her heart screaming.

"ALISTAIR!!!"