A/N: Written for a prompt from dragonage_kink meme at LiveJournal:

If your Inquisitor chooses to save the mages, they are sent a year into the future, where the Elder One has already won. I want to see more of that alternate future. Specifically, I want to see the Warden/Hero of Ferelden and/or Hawke trying to save the world...and ultimately failing. Race (in Warden's case), class, gender, LI, doesn't matter. I want to see glorious last stands that can make a man weep at it's sheer heroism.

Sounded like something worth a short story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just this piece of fan fiction.


Dawn Will Come

That something was wrong with the world became very obvius, when the Circles of Mages erupted into one big revolution, Templar order soon following into the fray, feeding the conflict with their own dissatisfaction with the state of affairs.

Mages were sick of being locked up, being collared and unable to affect the world outside much.

Templars were sick of being made into jailors, put on a leash, being made into monsters and taken for granted.

Chantry had been at loss how to handle both rebellions, only the Divine Justinia was working hard to correct things, successfully getting leaders of all sides to meet with her in the Temple of the Sacred Ashes, ready to talk about peace.

And then the skies were torn apart, and everyone on the Conclave had been killed. Everyone but one person - a noblewoman from Free Marches, that stumbled out of Fade, her hand enveloped in strange green light.

Soon after that the Inquisition formulated a plan how to stop that - use that strange ability this noblewoman, Trevelyan, had with her hand, and close the rips in the Veil, gathering forces to hve enough power to close the biggest hole in the sky.

And then the woman disappeared, and her ability to close the Veil tears with her.

The true enemy, The Elder One, as his followers called him, Corypheus, as his enemies called him, finally showed himself afterwards, tearing apart army after army, destroying everything in his way, riding on a dragon at the head of the demonic horde.

It was only matter of time before things got worse, and as was usual with those, it got even worse than even the biggest pessimists would have thought.

Darkspawn at least could be sensed by the Grey Wardens, who would warn the others. But how does one warn anyone about demons, who appear out of nowhere without the slightest warning?

If Blights could unite nations, menace of the name Corypheus united the whole of Thedas, even Tevinter Imperium; the Magisters finally understanding that no matter what this Elder One says, doom of all the world was what he was after - and Tevinter wouldn't escape the fate of the others.

The fight was brutal, non-stopping, desperate and in the end, completely hopeless; their forces crushed by Corypheus' dragon, magic and demons, only small remnants of the armies still willing to fight to the very bitter end.

Elissa Cousland had been one of the few, the on-going onslaught crushing Fereldan forces to the very last stand of their nation. The King was already dead, falling in the fifth battle taking place on Fereldan soil, sending their forces running in panic before she managed to beat them back into an army at least slightly resembling the order of the previous one.

But with each following battle, their forces were fewer and fewer, and their morale was dwindling into nothingness.

And as if that wasn't enough, together with Corypheus came the Calling.

Elissa was unable to sleep, to eat, to do anything but fight with all the power of her spirit to resist the call of the Deep Roads, becoming her to just leave the others to their fate and go to the darkness that housed the darkspawn. But she wouldn't bulge, wouldn't give up.

She was a Cousland, and a Cousland wouldn't abandon their duty, no matter what.

Together with her men, the handful of them, they made their last stand at the Soldier's Peak, and Elissa wondered, if Sophia Dryden felt like she did, as she stood on the battlements, her men tired and hungry and defeated.

She gripped the handle of her family sword. She won't be waiting here like a sheep for the slaughter, and neither would her men. Knowing how the cold air of the mountains around would let her voice carry over, she started singing an old hymn she heard a cleric at Ostagar sing before the fateful battle.

Shadows fall, and hope has fled, steel your heart, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark, look to the sky, for one day soon - the dawn will come.

And her men joined their voices with hers, the song rising up to the skies, just like the songs Andraste and Ealisay had sang together, until Andraste's voice finally reached the Maker.

Bare your blade, and raise it high, stand your ground, the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark, look to the sky, for one day soon, the dawn will come.

It was the biggest irony of fate that the demons arrived just when they were finished with the song, but for the first time in months, they weren't discouraged by their numbers, slashing their way through their bodies, intent of taking as many of them as was physically possible.

Yet still they failed, too far outnumbered by Corypheus's forces to do anything but go with a bang that would be heard.

Soon, Elissa had been the last one still standing, slashing in circles with her swords, moving as if in a dance with her enemies, twirling around, if only to keep out of their reach.

And then Corypheus himself stood in front of her, his eyes boring into hers, and she knew that with all the finality... it was over.

"I'm not afraid of you," she told him, and his lips formed an ugly smirk. "Mortals often hurl these lying words at the darkness far beyond their understanding," he said, his voice ringing in her ears. "Once those words were mine - but no more."

He made a step towards her.

She made a step away from him, keeping her swords before her. The demons suddenly disappeared, leaving only her and the Elder One there.

"You will always resist. But it matters not."

Elissa thought that he looked a bit like Architect - but unlike the sentient darkspawn she met in Amaranthine arling all those years ago, this... thing didn't have the same grace of movement, the same intensity. This... thing only radiated darkness, and the Calling in her ears got stronger by each step he took towards her, numbing her, until he brushed her swords aside and grabbed her by the neck, raising her above the ground.

"The Maker will never let you do whatever it is that you are planning," she rasped, her hands dropping her swords, grasping at his hand, as her air supply had been blocked by his grasp.

"I have seen the throne of the gods, mortal, and it was empty."

He snapped her neck with one quick move, her body getting limp in his grasp; an unmoving puppet instead of the Hero who killed one of his former masters. Slowly, almost gently, he lowered her body to the ground, carefully arranging it in the way of those laid to their eternal sleep.

She was strong, but in the end, her strength meant nothing. Turning around, he went to the dragon that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and flew away, to destroy other remaining pockets of those who still seeked to oppose him.

And behind his back, the darkness that enveloped the world the last months was breached, only for a moment, and a single ray of sun fell upon the ground.


A/N: I really do not like killing off my pretty Wardens O_O Anyway, if you like the way I write, you can actually commission me; the details of my commissions, prices and such, can be seen at my deviantART page. The nickname is the same as here.