Authors note: Sorry...noticed breaks where I changed character vanished when I uploaded. Just trying it again.

She never thought for a moment she could bring the Archdemon down. Yet, here it was, its glistening dark hide mottled with blood and raw wounds oozing onto the cracked stone floor. It stumbled for a moment, its ear piercing screech causing her to wince as it toppled forward and smashed into the ground with the mightiest crash. The ground shook around her, knocking down both man and darkspawn. In the momentary confusion her sword slipped out of her grasp and scattered way. No matter. She had prepared herself over the last hour – or had it been more – that she would have to be the one to kill the Archdemon. For that reason alone, she was glad Alistair was stuck at the front gates. This was something the new King need not see. She took her last few seconds to take in her world, smelling the overwhelming smoke and the sickening sweet blood had coagulated and pooled all Demerim. The deafening crescendo of screaming, clashing, the ghoulish cackles from darkspawn. Fallen men who still lay twitching, gurgling coming up from their throats. The thwack of arrows and the whistling as they flew towards the dying Archdemon. She drew in her last breath with burning lungs. Her heart thundered with powerful thuds under her armour, just ready to fight its way into her throat. She wished she could hug Alistair goodbye. She wished she would live, for that moment, that she would wed Alistair. There was no more time to waste. With a last minute grab of a sword from another body, screaming one last war cry before she left. Her fingers throbbed as she tightened her grip on the sword. Her fingers throbbed as she tightened her grip on the sword. The thickness of the Archdemon's skull jolted her as the sword plunged down and was enough to shock her before the sheer pain of the explosion hit her. It was a hot, stinging, searing pain, much worse than touching the hot coals of the oven back in Highever. It was time to meet Nan and her family again. She wanted to scream, yet instead she was powerless, limbless. She felt as if she was being ripped from her body, and with reluctance, she realised she probably was. She felt - no, saw - her knee's crumble, her body fold over the Archdemon. She had to get away. Instead she felt herself float backwards. A sudden tower of light erupted over the Archdemon, its body melting away in the light. Her body slowly rolled off the Archdemon, eyes staring directly to the sky above. She felt herself, or perhaps her soul, slowly, begin to be ripped apart. With a silent scream she willed, or perhaps begged to the Maker that this would not be the end. It was then, everything became so burning hot that she could see nothing but white. She felt hands, many cold hands, hold her steady, pulling her away. Beyond the white she could almost make out a face...dark hair on white skin. Then with almost a crackle, she felt herself be fired down, down towards the ground. She was powerless to move, let alone look towards the faces. Then it was black.

Slowly the buzz of the crowd awoke her. It was deafening, cheering and yelling. Darkspawn screaming as they tore out of the city. Clumsy hands felt a hot pulsing pain on her temple. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Soldiers feet clambered around her, armoured boots looking more blackish red than the usual tan or metal colouring. Her vision was still blurred, limited to what was directly around her head, which was resting in the mud of the ground. She spat out the contents of her mouth, mostly filled with a mixture of blood and dirt from the ground. It tasted foul, unfamiliar. "This one is alive! Maker! I was sure she was done for!" The voice came from directly above her. Unfortunately, her eyes refused to let her see that far. Instead, she saw a blur of colours that hurt her eyes.
"Maker! She is too! That Ogre tossed her around like a rag doll, I was sure she had been crushed to pulp." Whomever they were, they probably were young soldiers, potentially from Redcliff.
Two hands grabbed her under the arms, heaving her to her feet. The sudden move made the bile rise to her throat, gagging her. The vile smoke and blood caused her to retch again as the two men half helped her walk,
"Take it easy miss...the Darkspawn must have taken you for dead. There is no other way you would have survived here."
'Survived?' She thought for a second, the realisation hitting her hard in the stomach.
"I should be dead!" She blurted. With a bruised jaw, the words were slurred, barely recognisable.
"Damn right you should be!" The solider chuckled, evidently understanding her mangled speech. "You probably would be if it wasn't for the Wardens. They did a fine job at the top of Fort Drakon tonight."
"I...wouldn't know." She choked. Her eyesight was slowly returning. Amidst the fuzzy shapes, she should see the crudely erected tents they had set up. Evidently, he was taking her to field medics or the remaining mages who could heal. It was then; she looked into one of the remaining buildings which still stood tall. Its one pane of glass made her heart freeze. Chin length, deep brunette hair should be staring back at her. She should have dark hair, blue eyes and lips that were always slightly too thin for her liking. Neither her eyes nor the window would share the colour of her eyes today, but instead a completely different face stared back at her. A pale, thin figure with fiery red hair stared back in the reflection, looking incredibly bewildered. She had no time to linger, the soldiers mostly carrying her to the healers tents.
'I don't know what has happened.' She admitted to herself. 'Why am I in the Marketplace, when I should be on top of Fort Drakon? What has happened to my body? If I'm still alive...where is the Archdemon?'
"Here we are miss...settle down on this stretcher. One of the mages will see to you soon."
She half crumpled, half fell into the hard stretcher.
"Thank-you."
"We found this one in one of the Alleyways. Thank the Maker...she had been tossed and crushed by and Ogre! I don't think most people would have been able to survive that!"
"Thank you Men" A familiar voice soothed. "I'll be sure to take good care of her."
'Wynne?' She thought. 'She must have come down from the Fort to help heal the injured. Dear Wynne could tell me what is going on.' She forced herself into a sitting position with a grunt, taking a deep breath and looking towards the sound of the voice. Where most mages around her seemed to look tired, covered in blood yet bright and cheerful, Wynne looked like her world had just been crushed.
"You look so sad" Elissa commented quietly. "Yet everyone seems so happy."
"It is a day of mixed blessings I am afraid." Wynne spoke quietly. "We have defeated a great enemy and saved Ferelden from the blight. Yet at the same time, we have lost the woman who saved us all."
Elissa froze, feeling the remaining colour drain out of her face.
"You mean...you have a body? Are you sure the Grey Warden died?" Elissa asked softly. "Is there any other way something could have happened?"
"No. I saw her fall myself." Wynne said sadly. She placed her hand on her temple, the warm fuzziness muting much of the pain in her face. "Her body is being carried down by King Alistair himself. She gave her life to bring the Archdemon down."
"Oh no..." Elissa said quietly. 'Something is wrong.' She thought 'Hideously, horribly, wrong.'
"But for now, miss, you need to rest, and I need to keep healing."
"Thank-you again, Wynne." Elissa whispered. Wynne stared her.

"Excuse me?" She looked surprised "But how did you know my name?"
"I've met you before" Elissa admitted. "Although it almost feels like another lifetime ago."
"You must mean Ostagar." Wynne sighed. "yes, it does feel like another lifetime ago. Until we meet again."


"What do you mean, her body won't burn!" Alistair demanded. His eyes still burnt red from days of tears. His white silk pillows were soaked from where he had been lying face down for every possible minute of the day.
"I'm sorry, Alistair." Wynne soothed. "But her cremation...her body refuses to be burnt. Not a single hair singed and she has been in flames for three days straight. "I am sure it is magic in play, but I cannot tell you what it is. I would suggest we entomb her body for now. Perhaps Weisshaupt will have answers for you." Wynne straightened his sheets, something he could imagine a mother doing. Slowly she walked around his room, side stepping his red and gold robes scattered all over the ground and straightening the vellum on his mahogany desk. She traced over the engravings for a moment, appreciating the griffons scraped into the desk.
Alistair sighed, his shoulders slumping down. The castle in Demerim was colder than it should have been, considering the heat from the still smouldering city outside. The entire castle still stunk of darkspawn and smoke, but the heat failed to transfer in. Or maybe it was just him. The pain of losing her made every cockle of his heart bitter cold, so why wouldn't the castle feel cold too? Besides, her body was the last thing that surprised him. She was always full of surprises. Like leaving him at Denerim's gates. He stared at the gold armour laid out for him. It looked like Cailans.
"I promised Fergus that her remains would be sent to Highever first, for those who knew her to pay their respects. I am planning to leave directly after the Coronation celebrations."
"I see." Wynne said softly. "I will remain here, for now, as an advisor to Eamon in your absence."
Alistair nodded, looking around his room. He hadn't left his room much since he had returned from her funeral. There was a good chance, if he left his room, he would run into another noble ready to fling his daughters at him. Unfortunately, most of the noble's seemed unaware that he just lost the love of his life. Truthfully, he doubted they would act any different even if they did know.
"Maybe the sun in Highever will do you some good." Wynne smiled. "Either way, mister, if you don't hurry up and get dressed, you will be late for your own Coronation."
"Yeah." Alistair mumbled. "That."


Finally, she was well. Quickly, she tumbled her hair into a pony tail, strapping on the cheap leather armour she was found in. For the past three days, she had been taken in by the Chantry. Her skin had felt like it was burning and before she knew it, she had collapsed in the street, writhing in pain. Three days, she could barely move. She felt like she was suffocating, burning, wheezing and inhaling smoke. Only she wasn't in fire. She was in the Chantry, cold cloths applied to her face. Thrice a day, someone would come to tell her about Andraste and the Maker. She knew, then, they expected her to die. Still, just as abruptly as it started, it stopped. She paid her respects to the Chantry and before she knew it, she was out again, her mysterious illness and fever all but vanished.
Slowly, she enjoyed the smell of the fresh air. The rancid smoke and death still lingered, but for now it was better than the smell of her own sweat and hot breath inside the Chantry. She closed her eyes, listening to the hub-up of the clean-up.
"Did you hear about the Warden Commander? They say her body has been in the furnace for three days and even the mages can't make it burn!"
"What?" She demanded suddenly, turning towards the gossip. The gossip, an elderly laundry woman looked up.
"Everyone is talking about it! They tried to cremate her before they took her to Highever, but her body just won't burn."
Elissa stood there for a moment, stunned. 'I wasn't I'll for the last three days' She realised slowly. 'I was burning...quite literally.'
"Where is the crematorium?" She asked suddenly.
"I suppose her body would be in the Royal Crematorium...behind the castle. I wouldn't think they would let you see her. If you have the coin, I would suggest you wait until she is on display in Highever...hey miss, where are you going!" The woman demanded. But Elissa wouldn't listen.
'If I cannot have my own body' She thought, her emerald eyes set in determination. 'Then I will have what is mine.'

Whomever owned the body before her, thankfully was a fit woman. It felt wrong however as she ran, muscles that she never noticed would ache as she ran along the paths, jumping small crumbling walls to make her way behind the Palace. She hadn't had time to work out why she was in possession of another body, but Maker she needed help. She had scored the city looking for a familiar face. Unfortunately, none of her friends were to be found. Her only hope was to sneak into the Palace and find someone who would believe her, perhaps Wynne or Leliana. But before the Coronation, she could see no obvious way into the castle. Perhaps she should wait until the Coronation and try to flag Alistair down. Not that he would have clue who she was. She sighed softly. She missed him so badly. Would he even believe her if he found her?

Finally, she reached a short building with dark, acrid smoke billowing from the chimney. Two rose bushes grew up the side of the building. With a smirk, she quickly picked several red and white roses before opening the door. Straightening herself up, she marched directly in. Two burly guards stood at one stone box, arms folded. The other boxes, no doubt holding other deceased nobles .
"I take you are guarding the Warden Commander?" She asked, staring them in the eyes.
"Hey! What are you doing in here? We were ordered not to let anyone in!" The first grunted at her. "Go on! Get out of here!" Elissa gave him a quick smile.
"Don't be ridiculous. I was sent by King Alistair. He has requested that his love has fresh flowers before she is sent to Highever. "She insisted, motioning to the bouquet.
"Nobody ever said anything like that to us!" The second muttered.
"Well, I can't personally see the harm in giving her fresh flowers. I wouldn't be too impressed if I was the king and found her with rotting flowers. Wouldn't look very fitting for a deceased nobility to be presented with dead flowers, would it?"
"I...uh...suppose so" The first guard muttered. "I...let me help you with the lid." Slowly, they pulled the heavy stone stab down to reveal the top of the Warden Commander. Elissa drew in her breath. It was eerie...much like staring into the mirror. Only this time, she was aware, she looked nothing like herself.
"It's odd isn't it." The first guard muttered. "Downright creepy. Her body refuses to decompose, let alone burn. Her skin is even still warm." Elissa shuddered. Her first instinct was right. Held between two clasped hands was the rose Alistair had picked in Lothering. Just like her, it had refused to whither.
"She just looks...asleep" She fumbled, taking the rose out of her own hands. "Just...like her soul has left before her body died."
"Something like that." The guard shuddered as Elissa swapped the roses over. "See...not even that rose has withered yet. There's some dark magic involved, I tell you..."
"Something like that." Elissa repeated, her mouth open as the guards pushed the stone slab back over. "Someone must have known some dark magic to pull that off...but who?"


The crowd had erupted in the loudest cheering he could even imagine. Alistair waved, dumbfounded. He felt empty suddenly, alone. He glanced next to him, willing himself see Elissa at his side. Unfortunately, there was no-one. He was alone. Again. Every face seemed delighted with him, reaching out to touch him. He braved a fake smile, scanning the crowd. He stopped. There was one face, foreign and unfamiliar. She wasn't cheering like the others, in fact, she seemed downright upset. Or was it angry? She met his eye contact, piercing his. He felt his heart flip in his chest. She was leaning against a half destroyed wall, her arms folded at her chest. Her hair stood out, a deep fire even darker than Leliana's deep red mop. His eyes fell to what she was clutching in her hand. A single red rose. Still, she met his gaze. Was she crying? He couldn't be sure. Slowly, she raised the rose to her lips, closing her eyes and smelling it. Just like Elissa used to. He felt his muscles freeze. Why did she remind him of her? She mouthed something to him. What was it? Eamon pulled him along as he got one last glance. She turned and walked off, two swords strapped to the back of her leather armour.

"I miss you."

But why on Thedas would she mouth that?