Vhrinn took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart. It was over, or almost anyways, as the Archdemon writhed on the ground in mortal agony. The bestial fiend had been their toughest fight ever, summoning legions of its Darkspawn minions, and bouncing form one end of Fort Drakon to the other. It's wicked claws raked and swatted at them, its tail used as formidably as its talons, and dark tainted fire spewed form its mouth. Still, in the end, it failed, and the time to end the Blight had come.
Vhrinn heaved another breath, taking her first tentative step towards the Archdemon. It looked at her, knowing she was coming to end its life, a look so loathing that it chilled her. She was a creation of that same taint as the Archdemon, it coursed through their veins like acid. For her, it was a death sentence, a slow, yet sure, drain on what could have been a long life. To the Archdemon, it was an everlasting cycle of life.
The Darkspawn spent centuries tunneling the stone of the Deep Roads, ever searching for the voice that whispered in their minds. In the dark, the mindless soulless beasts dug for the Tevinter Gods of old, as the Dragon called to them to be found. When that happened, the dragon would be twisted by the taint, becoming an Archdemon and another Blight would being. If the Archdemon was felled, by anyone other than a Grey Warden, its soul would travel, via the taint, to a nearby Darkspawn, and be reborn anew. In this, it was immortal.
Almost. Vhrinn was the Arch demons' antithesis. They may have the same taint, but that was ultimately the demons' downfall. She had the taint, and should the Archdemon die by her hand, it would travel to the closest being with the taint, which would be her. She had a soul. Two souls could not occupy the same body. Ultimately, this meant that they would both be destroyed. But to end the Blight, though, it was worth it.
Vhrinn knelt down and picked up a sword. The object felt foreign to her, as she was a mage, purveyor of the arcane sciences. She was used to killing via magic, never with a weapon like this. When she asked Riordan what to do, he merely chuckled and told her: "Just thrust the tip of the sword between its eyes. You'll be surprised at how easy it is." Still, using magic from afar was comforting for her. Using a sword, up close, felt. . .odd.
She advanced on the Archdemon, as the mortally wounded beast struggled vainly to rise. It eyed her as she approached with the sword, sensing her intention. Its pale gray eyes bore into her, it whispered tainted thoughts into her head. When that didn't stop Vhrinn's feet from closing the distance between them, it opened its mouth and roared at her, pleading her to come no further. Had it the strength to call up its tainted breath, it would have, but its life bled out from it taking its life from it regardless of her interference. But if she did not make that final blow, then it would be reborn, and this madness would begin again.
Strong hands clasped around her waist and heaved her away from the fiend, and the Archdemon roared in defiance again. It was no Darkspawn that prevented her from her task, but Alistair. She was no physical match for his strong hold, as he dragged her a few feet from the demon, who knew that its respite was temporary.
"Vhrinn, this is madness. Please stop." Alistair pleaded as he put the mage down and spun her to face him.
"I have to do it. End the Blight." She whispered, unable to look him in the eyes. Unable to see the pain he must be feeling, see the love in his eyes, and get lost in them forever.
"Let me, Vhrinn. Let me do it. I...wasn't ready to take my place as King. But let me do my Kingly duty to my country, let me take the final blow." His gauntleted hand ran through her short, dark brown hair begging her to look up at him, which she did.
Her voice choked as she actually considered it. "That's not the real reason, is it?"
Alistair sighed and pressed her tightly against his chest, kissing her head lovingly before placing his cheek against her dark mane. "No. I can't bear the thought of losing you. Watching you about to kill that Archdemon. . .I couldn't bear it. Please, let me save you. You've save my life more times than I can count, please, let me return you the favor."
Vhrinn's body wracked with sobs as tears fell down her chests. Why hadn't she just accepted Morrigan's offer? She could easily justify the decision with "We do whatever it takes." The demon would be dead, and they would both be alive. But then, Morrigan would have an untainted God stirring in her belly. What havoc would that cause? Especially since she had her mother's grimoire and the knowledge that her mother possessed to posses another entity to live forever. What if Morrigan followed in her mother's footsteps. . .Morrigan as a Goddess. . .the thought was chilling.
But so was the thought of losing Alistair. Over this entire year, she had gone from loathing him, to being amiable, to friends, and eventually, lovers. She didn't want to give up what she had, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him. As his arms held her tightly, emotions raged with her ability to think. She would die, and he would live. Or he would die and she would live. It wasn't fair either way.
Vhrinn shook her head as continued to weep against Alistair's blood stained armor, unwillingly to give in to his pleas. "I. . .Alistair. . ."
He removed one of his gauntlets and let it drop to the ground, running his free hand through her hair, down her jaw, and under her chin, lifting it up, beckoning her eyes to meet his. His carnelian orbs stared brightly down into hers, no sign of fear, only love. He smiled as he teased her mahogany locks some more, looking over her every feature as if committing them to memory. He slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her in for one last kiss.
"I love you." He whispered just barely drawing back from her lips, her eyes still closed from the implications of those last words.
And then he was gone from her. His warmth, his comforting presence were no longer there, as was the sword that he had stealthily removed from her fingers. The shock of realization hit her and she sank to the ground, unable to watch what she knew was happening.
The Archdemon was too weak now to roar at the approaching Grey Warden, or snap at him when he got close. Its breath came in slow, vain gasps as it lay there defenseless before its doom. It had not died yet, which was the only thing Alistair needed. With a final cry, he plunged the sword between the demons' eyes, firelight erupting from the fatal wound, as the soul began passing out of the dead vessel. It snaked up the sword, and coalesced around Alistair. That immense soul confined the Templar warden, preventing him form letting go, holding him fast against his fate. He threw back his head against the pain, screaming, but it was lost as the demon's soul drowned out everything.
The light grew in intensity, becoming like a miniature sun on the top of Fort Drakon, piercing through the darkness that came with the Blight. The few remaining soldiers stopped to look up at the dazzling display from the top of the dungeon, as Darkspawn all around them began to flee. Cheers went up all around the city, as the light exploded, once again leaving them in darkness. But the war was over. The day was won.
Except for the broken girl who watered the cold, blood spattered stone with tears of grief.