His time had come and he took the path to the Deep Roads leaving his wife, Anora and heir to take care of Ferelden. Everyone knew this day would come. The great King of Ferelden had to accept his mortal fate as a Grey Warden. Old friends came to wish him well. Each showing the years that passed in their eyes. They had a great party talking about the old days and spoke of one in particular that brought then together.

~Amaris…I need you…~

He remembered meeting her for the first time and the taste of her lips on his. The memories kept him sane as he trekked through the Deep Roads. He always wished he had one more day with her before the end. She had left him at the gates knowing full well she was going to die. He cursed at the darkness for stealing her from him. He cursed the Blight for destroying what they had.

No, don't curse it my love…

"Amaris?" Alistair whispered and looked around but he saw nothing. He shook his head and figured he was letting his mind play tricks on him.

He continued onward hoping to find his death soon. His prayers to the Maker went unanswered for days. The taint was becoming more aggressive with each minute and he feared he'd become that which he hated. It wasn't until he came upon a small group of darkspawn did he see his chance.

"Death come swiftly to me and end my pain." He whispered ran towards them and slashed through the genlocks before hitting the hurlocks head on.

The bloody fight seemed to go on forever before the shrieks got to him. Alistair had managed to take two of them down but the last two managed to overrun him. He fell to his knees with his arms wide open, the symbol of the Grey Wardens visible on the chest plate. He relented and knew his fate. A glimmer caught his attention, and no longer were his eyes looking at his liberators but a radiant white light from deep in the darkness.

"Maker's breath…" He gasped then dropped his sword and shield.

A figure outlined in the light slowly approached. His eyes widened with tears as he saw who it was. Long flowing blond hair the color of the wheat fields during a harvest, eyes green as the spring pastures, lips red as a rose, delicate Elf ears, there was no mistaking who it was. Her white robes were trimmed with gold and she had a serene expression in her eyes as she looked down at him.

"On your knees? How unlike you, Alistair." Amaris smiled softly then knelt to hug him. She brushed his cheek with her fingertips, "No more tears dearest."

Her warmth and softness were real. He had missed being like this with her and he choked back the tears. His eyes turned away from hers as if he was ashamed at what he seemed to have become, "I'm not what I once was...I tried to be a good King…"

"Is that so?" Amaris whispered as she caressed his cheek then turned his face to look at her, "You are a great King. You did everything I knew you would. I am proud of you."

"You want me still as this feeble old man?" Alistair looked at her then paused. In her emerald eyes he saw his reflection. He was young again as when they first met.

She brought her lips to his letting him recall how soft they were and the warmth she seemed to breathe into him. As their lips parted she whispered, "Age is but a number." Her hands slipped into his once more, "Let's go home."

"As you wish." Alistair smiled softly and walked with her back towards the welcome glow of the white light.

The shrieks seemed puzzled by the expression on Alistair's face as his body fell back by itself with a loud clunk. There was a smile on his lips and his eyes were closed. He was free.