A.N. An AU interpretation of the events of the Darkspawn Chronicles. What if the Warden had died during her joining? It's an intriguing question. Here's my interpretation.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.

OoOoOoOo

Hidden Within

Alistair hurt.

He couldn't really attribute the pain to any one body part. He was pretty sure that every bone in his body had been shattered when the Archdemon had knocked him across the tower's roof. The claw had hurt. The wall he had struck much more so.

The last of the Theirins could taste blood on his tongue. Something internal must have been damaged; not surprising, considering the abuse he'd been put through over the past few minutes. He tried to push himself up, but couldn't summon the strength to even roll over onto his back. His arms were weak; his legs wouldn't move at all.

Ferelden's fight against the Blight had started so well. They had pushed the darkspawn back as they moved to take back the capital. Alistair had led a team to the tower at the center of Denerim, knowing it would be the best place to face off against the Archdemon. Riordan had hurt it, and Alistair had hoped the wound would give them the advantage they had sorely needed: he had been wrong.

Sten had been the first to go down. At the beginning of his quest, Alistair had found Sten in Lothering, locked in a cage. He had offered the qunari a place at his side; a chance to atone for murdering an innocent family by stopping the Blight. Sten was stoic, and quite abrasive, but he had grown on Alistair. There was no one in the whole of Ferelden that he trusted more to guard his back.

A genlock had managed to get under the massive qunari's guard. Its blade only skittered harmlessly off of Sten's plate armor, but he'd left himself open as he caved in the darkspawn's skull with the pommel of his sword. A hurlock -one of the bigger ones- had brought its sword down on his unguarded shoulder, severing bone and tissue. Sten had let loose a strangled yell and fallen, the stump of his arm spraying blood.

Next to fall had been Barkspawn, who'd been with the Grey Warden since Ostagar. During their trip out into the Wilds to gather ingredients for the ill-fated joining, the Dalish girl had found a medicinal flower which matched the description of the one the kennel master needed to cure a sick mabari. After the joining had...failed...Alistair had taken the flower from her body. He had been determined something good would come from all that death.

The mabari had gotten better, and had found Alistair after he'd left Flemeth's hut with that unlikeable witch-bitch in tow. He hadn't left Alistair's side since.

He had watched Barkspawn charge towards a lumbering ogre. He could still feel the scream catch in his throat as the beast had snatched up the dog as if it weighed nothing, then slammed it into the ground with enough force to crack the blocks. The mabari, as tough as it was, did not move.

What had finally broken Alistair was the sight of his love, Leliana, being run through by the claws of a shriek. The red-haired woman with the Orlesian accent had almost never been a part of his team. He had at first rejected her offer to join up, but she had caught him again as he left Lothering. Barkspawn had bounded up to her and practically melted as she scratched his ears, and Alistair hadn't been able to resist his mabari's puppy-dog eyes. He had given her a chance, and thanked the Maker that he had. He hadn't known he was in love until he realized he couldn't bear the thought of losing her.

And now he had. Alistair had snapped, charging blindly at the Archdemon with his sword held high. He had known this battle would end with his death, and now he had nothing to lose. Death would be welcome, but only after he'd lopped off this monster's head.

The next thing he'd known, Alistair was sailing through the air with his chest plate caved in. He'd bounced off the wall and fallen with a crunch on the stones below.

His eyes flickered to the sword in his hand. It had been his father's, a beautiful piece of dwarven craftsmanship; now it was broken, and the metal no longer glowed with magic. He tried to draw a breath, only to realize that his cuirass had collapsed around his chest, making it impossible to breathe. Just as well, maybe he would die before one of the darkspawn had a chance to get a hold of him.

Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Something red flashed, and it took all of his willpower to turn his head towards the motion. His heart fluttered at the sight.

It was Leliana, her torso was covered in the blood and more of the crimson liquid was trickling from her mouth and nose. He could hear her breathing from where he lay, even with the dragon's roars and the darkspawns' shouts of victory. Her breath rattled, but her eyes were locked on his as she struggled to crawl towards him.

When they were still several meters from each other, a hurlock noticed the crawling human. It slammed its foot down on the struggling woman's back. She screamed, writhing as the monster ground its boot into her wounded torso. Cruel laughter filled Alistair's ears as the monster raised its battle-ax for the final blow. Leliana's tear-filled eyes met his own, one hand reaching out toward him pleadingly.

Alistair felt something deep inside of him break loose. His body grew warm, and a pulse of energy burst from his core, ripping his armor asunder and lighting the tower with a brilliant blue flash. The hurlock paused in its execution, turning wide-eyed on Alistair as the man's chest plate hit the ground with a clang.

"Get away from her!" the Theirin roared, one hand snapping out towards the monster that had been about to kill Leliana. The darkspawn stumbled back as if it had been struck, then began to frantically claw at its chest; the ax falling forgotten to the side. A moment later, the hurlock's chest swelled like a balloon, then exploded: the boom was deafening.

Alistair had trained as a Templar. During that time, he had been required to learn about many different kinds of magic. He had once read a script that referred to mages who discovered their abilities late in life. It was rare, but it did happen. Now that his own had awakened, he couldn't really say he was surprised. He realized that he had always known the well of power was there, he had just chosen to ignore it. Now the dam was broken, and ignoring the power was impossible.

Leliana stared at him, her mouth agape and her eyes filled with shock. He did his best to smile at her, then turned and ran towards the Archdemon again; this time, with magic sheathed around him. He didn't know how he was controlling such power, and he didn't really care. All that was important was putting this monster down.

The dragon saw him coming and launched itself into air, its wings beating rapidly. Alistair thrust both arms forward, his fingers curled in against his palms. The air shimmered around the Archdemon; two clawed hands shot out of thin air, grabbing crushing fistfuls of the dragon's leathery wings. Then they both retreated, taking the wings with them.

There was a moment where the dragon hovered in the air, held aloft by wings that had been stretched in opposite directions. Then, with the sound of ripping cloth, its right wing tore free of its body. It roared as it fell, all of its weight coming down on the wing still caught in the ethereal fist's grip. The fist gave a firm shake, and its left wing ripped free as well.

The dragon tumbled over and over through the air, before coming to a crashing halt on the stones of Fort Drakon's roof. Alistair snatched up a discarded greatsword and sprinted towards the massive reptilian monster. He failed to notice the genlock alpha until it had gotten too close for him to block the wickedly curved dagger it shoved towards his chest as he sped by.

A grunt of effort, followed by a surprised scream. Alistair turned his head, and caught the barest of a glimpse of the one-armed qunari slamming the genlock against the cobblestones as if it weighed nothing. "Do not stop!" Sten roared, and Alistair obeyed.

He reached the Archdemon, which had righted itself by that point. Its head reared back as it prepared to spit a stream of green fire at the grey warden. Its motion came up short, however, when an arrow sprouted from its eye. Alistair didn't have to look to know who was responsible; Leliana was the best archer he'd ever known. He swung the blade around, catching the demon below the right foreleg with the blade.

The Archdemon scrambled backwards quickly, but was forced to halt its retreat when a ball of teeth and fur landed on its back, sinking fangs into the base of its neck. Barkspawn wasn't finished quite yet, it seemed. Alistair used the distraction to close in, thrusting the greatsword through the mighty dragon's chest and into its heart.

His world went black as an explosion erupted from within the dragon.

OoOoOo

Morrigan smiled as she sauntered through the streets of Denerim. The blight had been defeated; and by their dragon-blooded king, no less. The people of Ferelden were beside themselves with joy. Not a single person -outside the Grey Wardens, anyway- was asking how the man had survived. Killing an Archdemon was rare. Surviving to tell the tale, now that was unheard of.

A hand drifted down to her tummy, resting softly over the baby that was already growing within her. Alistair was a fool. Luckily, Leliana had a brain underneath that crop of red-hair. It was amazing what could be hidden by the dark. How can you know for sure the one who blew out the candle is the one who crawled under the covers next to you?

She walked through the gates, a glint in her eye. The future would be interesting indeed.

OoOoOoOo