Riordan is dead.
But the final task is yet to be done. She gazed upon his shattered body. The deed has fall upon her. She bowed at his remains, in her own silence uninterrupted by the roars and shouts of her surroundings. And she will see the deed through. She took the bloodied sword that reek of unbearable stench of corruption and sheathed it behind her back with her tattered family sword. That she had promised.
She straightened up and turned around and looked at her companions, gazing at their eyes one by one in a continuous flow, until she settled her luminous green eyes on Alistair.
"I will do this." His expression was hard, but his determination was unmistaken.
She grinned silently.
"What's with that smug look?" He shot up suspiciously. His expressions softened. "Oh, I know that wordless yet sinister smile anywhere; you're mocking my bravery, aren't you?" He narrowed his eyes in a mere slit, a tiny smile visible at the corner of his lips, but the wrinkle between his brows told otherwise.
"I'm unworthy to lick your lamppost, your majesty, let alone mock you." This wasn't really the time, she kept remind herself, but
Immediately, his face reddened. "Shh-! Don't say that in front of the public!"
"A bloody public filled with sodding corpses everywhere, yeap, just like the good old days." The remark was followed by a belches that never failed to amuse her every time. She grinned. But Alistair ignored the comment. He pulled her wrist to his side. "I will do this." He repeated slightly beyond whisper.
"Don't worry, you know me, I'm not the type to do things for the sake of conscience."
"Are you?"
And, slowly, she gave a wide smile, in the midst of the bloody battle.
She watched as Isolde took out a kitchen knife as the Arlessa cradled her beloved son. Tears tickled down her eyes as she comforted her son.
She nodded and turned around. "What must be done." She muttered as if to convince herself as she exit the room.
"Let's go, then."
The battles that fought along the way to Fort Drakon were grueling and exhausting and maddeningly annoying. Door after door, hall after hall, darkspawns after darkspawns, her sense was murky and mixed. They were everywhere, but there was an exceptionally large and sharp void of darkness at the end of their supposed destination.
They could hear the thundering sound of the ferocious beast howling and snarling. She could hear the overbearing sound the soldiers bellowing and shouting. Grueling weeks of travelling seeking aids, goose hunts, detour, treasure hunts, and serving as unlikely diplomats for trying to gain supports from those somewhat uncertain allies who could not even solved their own civil problems had come to a hectic end. Now that all that is left was just beyond that door right in front of them.
She turned around and looked at her companions one last time.
"Ready?" Her radiant green eyes moved from one companion to another almost in a continuous flow until she ended her grave glance pointedly at Wynne. This only made Wynne's expression became even solemn. The old mage nodded lightly.
"Oh, I didn't expect you would come to me at such late hour." The old lady grinned. "Are you afraid of the coming battle?" Her voice was gentle in a grandmotherly way, as Alistair would usually put it.
"Was I supposed to be afraid of tomorrow battle?"
"I take it that you are not afraid then?"
"No, I am afraid. I am afraid that my decision is wrong. You had seen it during our travels, our journeys together, that I am…" She paused, unsure how to put it. "Unstable, inconsistent, that prone to a more… mercenary decision, you saw that, you saw those." In fact the mage was there, she saw them all.
"Oh dear, you are just a human. We all wanted to perfect, but we know that we can."
"I am cold, calculative, I almost intervened in everyone affair while I was not supposed and tried to manipulate them into getting what the Grey Wardens want," She paused. "What I want."
"Who told you that?"
"I told myself. That is why I am here. That is why Duncan conscripted me. He saw that part of me."
"No, you are not. You are not cold, but perhaps calculative and manipulative, I think it's because you want the best of their people that you were about to influence, their future."
"Yet I was reckless when it comes to carrying it out. You were there yourself at the Circle of Magi; I was so tempted to let Gregory get on with his Ring of Annulment."
"And yet, you saved us all. You saved Irving, you saved the Circle and you saved me."
"I agreed to let Branka get her hand on the Anvil of the Void."
"Still, you destroyed the Anvil with your own swords."
"You see how contradicting my nature is?"She was not angry,
"My girl, it is because you are just a girl, a young one, still learning, still struggling."
"And yet I lead a group of people who had much more experience and qualifications than me."
"And because of you, you manage to unite them."
She let out a long sigh.
"Dear girl, do you not see that it is because of your contradicting nature that you manage to unite people from various races and beings to fight the Blight together. It was odd to say so, but that was your charm. And let us not forget that in the end you are guided by your conscience, so there is nothing to weep about."
"I never chose to be a Grey Warden."
"Neither did I choose to born as a Mage."
Silence followed yet her gaze was that adamant and defiant like a proud griffon did not wavered.
Wynne took a deep sigh. "Oh child, I know how much burden you had to bear." And the old mage embraced her tightly. Odd though, the embrace nostalgically reminded her of her mother. And for once she was so tempted to hug the Old lady in return, just for once, if only she could, should she?
"I love you, my child."
She was confused. Was that her mother's voice echoing in her? Or did her grandmotherly companion just say that?
But now, it does not matter who said that. With that, she yearningly hugged the old lady in return, tightly and quietly. It was strangely comforting.
And both of them stayed in that posture for a long time.
She lifted her head and glanced straight into the old lady's eyes, gaze unusually determined, ignoring those accumulated tears that were threatening to roll down. "Wynne, there's something I need you to do." She strained her eyes and stared genuinely at Wynne.
Yes, she was pleading Wynne.
But the scene before them was more than she expected.
"Andraste's Grace!" Leliana grasped.
Red bloody sky loomed dangerously upon the open arena. Dark clouds mingled with hazardous smokes painted the otherwise crimson sky. Below the threatening sky was the melancholy battlefield. The legion forces of Soldiers who had been there earlier than them were utterly crushed, into shreds and remnant. Their lifeless bodies were torn and trampled like piece of extremely flat papers, bloods splat everywhere with ongoing blue flames burning ferociously at those parts bodies. Swords, shields on the ground torn to scraps, melted to metallic liquid, were laid to waste.
"I did not know that squishy beings could also be done such artistic manner…" Her tone was not of impressive but dreaded. "…that does make me wonder if I would be squished in the same manner in return."
The scene was bloodily hellish. And at the center of the hellish view was the hideous beast. The beast gawked coldly upon them as though it had been waiting for them, for her and Alistair.
"Is it me? Or the Archdemon just stare frostily at us both particularly?" He shuddered.
It was.
"More troops will come soon." Someone noted.
"Alistair, Sten, Shale, distract it!"
"Leliana, Wynne attacked it through its blind spot from a distance!"
"I want 10 soldiers at the ballista each, and ready to fire whenever it in the range."
"Archers stay away from the battle, so are the Mages, you will healed those who are in weakened state."
The Achdemon waited.
"Hmm, I did not know that Archdemon is supposed to be courteous, perhaps I could offer some entertainment to delight it, no?"
"I think you are taking your service a bit too far."
"Oh, that would be interesting to see an Elf and a demon together."
Sten just shook his head lightly with some faint disapproval.
With everything in order, she charged.
The Cousland family was out at the garden, stargazing into the deep abyss of the dark sky where they said that Cousland Constellation was the brightest at that particular summer night.
Her brother sprawled on the grass, head lying on their mother's lap. She sat on her father's lap, chin up, eyes wandering, seeking a certain pattern of stars. She still could not find those collection of stars after all these time, too many stars, they all glittered like her mother's diamond, beckoning her to pay attention at them.
"Children, do you know why the Cousland line exist for long?"
She shifted her gaze from the stars and looked up to her father. Big eyes focused, her brows furrowed. Her brother did not speak, instead, he yawned softly.
"Bryce, perhaps you should save that for later, Fergus is getting too sleepy." Their mother gently stoked her brother's sweaty head. "Our children had too much running tonight."
Their father let out a deep hearty laugh, "He is always sleepy when someone talked about the Cousland history. Besides, Eleanor," He tenderly caressed his little daughter messy dark hair. "Today the Cousland Constellation shines the brightest." And she smiled innocently. He lowered his head and gazed into his youngest child quiet eyes. "Do you know why?" at this she furrowed her brows again and shook her head.
"Because the Couslands always live," he spoke out but his voice sounded different from before, "they always divide life and duty amongst the kin," he paused and looked up into the sky "just like your dead uncle and your father."
Her father once told her a story about the Cousland Constellation. Her father once told her the importance of surviving and duty, the Cousland way to balance both.
And she always assumed that Fergus was the one who was to have a heavier share of the surviving part while, she was to bear the duty part more wholly, while not forsaking the other aspect. He as the heir was to survive no matter what, while she has the honor to die as she protects her family fulfilling her duty. Despite her parents' wishes, she had imprinted that Cousland philosophy into her mind, trained herself to fulfill her duty till death, never abandoning it, no matter what.
That was why she rejected so fervently when father decided to send Fergus to the Battlefront in Ostagar. That was why she rejected so adamantly when she was forced to leave the Castle without defiantly and openly giving Howe a terribly hard time.
But that reality changed when the Battle of Ostagar failed miserably, when all traces of her brother seemed to indicate that he was dead. She was to take up the mantle of surviving for the sake of the family name. To be the newly embodiment of the surviving aspect of the Cousland Line mingled with the old and unshaken Cousland sense of duty while trying to blend the annoyingly thick Grey Warden's responsibility.
It was hard to balance, but somehow she always was able to do so.
And now, she was about to jeopardize the long unbroken Cousland line. She was an idiot. She had always been a cowardly idiot. And she had to admit Loghain was indeed a much braver person than she ever will be when he willingly accepted his disgrace and humiliation of his fall and submit to Riordan's unruly suggestion of Joining the Grey Warden, instead she let Alistair choose. And Loghain accepted his death bravely-
"Look out!" Someone shouted.
She turned around and all she saw was a long black thing was swiping head on and-
Wham!
Her body flung over to the furthest corner of the stone hard floor.
For the slightest instance as she was tossed away, she thought she saw a proud eagle perched on one of the fort's wall, watching down at them.
No, it was rather, watching her.
"You are a fool!" a familiar yet unruly voice bashed into her deafening ears. "You would die rather than let me perform my ritual?"
"Morrigan, you know what it is. That raw power. What will happen if you could not contain the child?" She paused, recomposing her thoughts, and perhaps calculating. "More importantly, what will happen to the child?"
"I am not a fool. I am well aware of that, I only wanted to preserve what that is supposed to be preserved rather than being bluntly destroyed by you pathetic Chantry followers!"
"Do you not feel how devastating the power is? How dangerous is it to leave in the hands of man?"
"And that is why I was so confident that you will agree to my ritual! I was such a fool to have so immense faith in you that you see me as your friend. In the end it does not matter, you never trusted me."
Did she?
Friendship and Betrayal.
Was this a betrayal?
"You did not tell me earlier either. Was this not an issue of trust too?"
"Does it matter now? Sooner or later you will have to know of this ritual."
Maybe to her witch friend, friendship has another definition that differed from her and the common populace. But just as she said, does it matter now?
"Then go." She whispered. "Go."
"And I will. I will not stay to see you foolishly let such opportunity pass!" And the witch strode out of her room defiantly followed by clear crisp sounds of sprinkled dust rang. With that, she knew that the witch was gone.
The blow was enough. The Archdemon let out a loud painful howl and staggered backwards.
"Stand down from the Archdemon! Form a large defensive circle around the demon! Do not let any Dark Spawn neared it from now on! And all your focus on the dark spawns!" She ordered to everyone present there, Arl Eamon soldiers or Elven Archers, Circles Mages or Stout Dwarven soldiers, leaving the Wheezing beast alone.
"Sten, you will lead them the soldiers and the rest from here. Remember, don't let any Darkspawn near it when we slay it!"
"As you wish, Kadan." The Gigantic man turned around, "You heard the Grey Warden!"
"Alrig-" Alistair emerged from the clashing crowds, but she will not give him any chance. "Wynne!" She shouted.
"Yes!" And the mage complied just as she had promised. She swiftly lifted her hands along with her staff high above and started chanting in an alien tongue. A glyph began to form under Alistair feet.
"What the- What are you doing? Wynne!" Alistair was immobile, his legs as stuck on the ground, unable to move. He looked down at his feet, struggling desperately trying to break free from her cursed spell.
"I am sorry." Wynne said regrettably.
As if a bucket full of icy cold water had just splashed harshly on him, his eyes widened as he frantically lifted his head and glared at her direction. "You are goin- NO! You can't be! You can't do it!"
She smirked wordlessly at him. Perhaps she did that only served to infuriate him even more. "I order you to do stop! I- I am the king! I am the king of Ferelden!" He struggled desperately and futilely to break his legs free.
Her smirk grew as she slowly unsheathed Riordan's bloody sword from her back. "That is why, King Alistair, you can't be the one to take the glory of slaying the Archdemon. It is the task of the last expendable Grey Warden in Ferelden." She chuckled lightly.
"No, no, no, NO! This is not funny! This is not fair! You did not give me a choice! NO!" He shouted in exasperation.
"That is not your duty alone!"
Odd enough, his somewhat pleasing shouts, stirred some unpleasant flashes about certain dead man. "It is my duty to ensure that Ferelden will not into the Orlessian's Hand again!" Loghain infuriated voice echoed in her mind. His fiercely determined expression had burn deep into her memories. A degree of determination that she hoped she had shared, despite their goals and duty were different in nature.
DUTY.
His duty.
As a Ferelden who was born during the Orlessian occupation; as the Hero of the River Dane who finally drove the Orlessian out of Ferelden; as King Maric's best friend who respected him more than he could ever describe in words and as an ordinary man who was conquered by his fear of the Occupation.
Her duty. Her duty as what?
A Grey Warden?
"I am sorry but the Grey Warden's duty precedence vengeance." Duncan sadly repeated after her undying persistence of getting her vengeance first before escaping the Highever Castle on that dreadful night.
A Cousland?
"To the Couslands, duty is as well as important. We must learn to seek equilibrium between Life and Duty." The Teryn added. Then he looked up unto the night sky again. A sad face lingered.
Perhaps, her father always values Duty more than his life.
"Our family… always does our duty first. The dark spawn must be defeated. You must go. For you own sake, and for Ferelden's." Her father dying words echoed weakly in her mind.
And she looked at Leliana. The bard was there, standing at one corner.
A friend?
When the bard realized that she was staring at her, she gave her the most reassured smile the bard could ever muster. "You know you can do it!" she tried to sound cheery and encouraging, but her hoarse and dry voice along with her teary eyes told otherwise.
Or… something else?
"Had I ever tell you that I love you so much?" The bard spoke softly as she gently stroked her peaceful face, wiping strands of brown hair across her face, a face that told the bard that she was in deep slumber. At least that was what she hoped the bard would think. It was a fool's attempt to fool an Orlessian bard, let alone a seasoned one.
No, she was not asleep.
How could she? After what had almost transpired between her and Alistair, after he impulsively hugged her, after she chose to pretend that she did not notice the underlying message he was about to explicate, after that talk about Grey Wardens and their death, after amongst so many unexpected things and uncertainty of what is to come.
Yes, she was awake, only to pretend to be asleep. Because, she was afraid, she was afraid what would happen if that amorous atmosphere lingers on any further than she can handle, she was not ready to tempt fate in something that she cannot promise.
It was odd though, amidst of all things, from the most trivial affair of seeking a lost qunari sword in war torn country to uniting the whole country, to lead the country to end the Blight, it was this that she was lost the most.
Gently, the bard pulled her callous right hand and placed it close to her face. Tenderly, the bard kissed the center of her palm. "Oh Maker, I wish that I could just tell you how much I love you, when you are awake. Not like this. Not like this." She choked. "If only I have the courage. Oh Maker, please grant your child the courage, not too much, just enough for me tell her how much I feel for her, just once, just only once."
But she was awake. She was conscious, conscious enough to feel something damp had just run passed her palm, to sense that the bard was crying.
"Maker, why am I crying just like a baby? It is not as if she was going to die tomorrow. It is just an Archdemon." Was she going to die tomorrow? For some reason, the bard knew as if she was going to die, she herself acted as if she was going to die, all those talks about Grey Wardens and their passing, all those talks of life, honor and Cousland…
Was she? Between Duties and the Cousland Line, how will she find balance between them?
Then, as gently and tenderly like the bard did before, the bard slowly placed back her hand. She sensed a small movement on the ground by the bard and the bard shifted a little closer to her, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her sleeping partner. And soon enough, she could felt that the bard fell into a deep but troubled sleep, occasionally accompanied by small sobs.
Then as swiftly and quietly like the night wind, she pushed herself up from the ground. "If only I know which to choose." She whispered solemnly as she gently planted a kiss on the bard"s cheek.
"If only I know how to choose."
Their Duty.
She turned around with her back facing him and swiveled her head a little just enough to see his reddening face. "Alistair, be a good king." Her voice was so calm that she was surprised herself. She was still smirking. And without waiting her last word hit his ears, she quickly dash her way to the failing beast.
"No, Alistair has to be conscious." She spoke firmly.
The old mage protested. "But, it would be too cruel for him-"
"He has to know where his duty lies, where my duty lies."
Alistair's voice was echoing behind the backdrop, shouting and cursing. And then, she heard sobs, gentle sobs, which she felt odd that despite of the war cry, ballista being fired, metal clang of swords clashed together, she could still hear them amidst of all those noise. And she knew without a doubt whose it belongs too.
The girl was right. She was going to die. She was right; she herself somehow knew she was going to die after all. What she requested from Wynne was not for precaution as she explained the night before, because it was certain that she was indeed going to die.
"Our daughter will not die of Howe's Treachery; she will make her mark on the world."
It was so ironic to suddenly hear these words again. But death never frightens her. And what's it not enough that she had already leave a scar on the world? She did everything she could, what more could she had asked for?
Enough.
You had a happy sheltered childhood, a childhood that so many yearned for, but never get it. Isn't that enough?
The beast kept shooting blue flames at her, attempting to waste her every effort of approaching it. She could feet it desperation, just as it could sense her determination. It swipe it long and thorny tail at her. The bloodied sword she was holding was caught amongst the thorns and was flung away. For a moment it snarled in victory. Caught off guard for the slightest moment, she soon found herself tossed for the second time. And this time, her armor plate that bore the proud heraldry of the Grey Warden was completely thrashed into in-mend-able pieces.
She stood once again, but increasingly nonchalantly released every remaining part of her armor, and each of them thumped the ground loudly, leaving on a light drakeskin greaves her feet and a thin piece of sweaty attire on her. The beast howled disgustedly in return, or so she thought. Without waiting for the beast next move, she swiftly ran across the battlefield. She glided skillfully under his long neck and slashed it neck along the polished glide, she continued to slit it ailing body sideways. Tainted blood poured over her. The stench of tainted blood was unbearably horrible. But then, its hand caught her, and merciless, it grasped her armor-less body with its barbed claws only and twisted tightly.
She let out a gagged cry of pain.
"We are coming for you!" Zevran shouted, quickly urging those of her companion other than Sten and Alistair to quickly run to her side.
"N-NO!" They should not do that, they could not do that. They were abandoning their posts. "Stop!" She screamed with what was remained in her. And they stopped, standing there, confused.
"Wyn- Wynne, don't- don't let your guard down on Alistair. You pro- promise!" She whispered as she could feel the tightening crush on her body. But it was not broken yet, the beast was visibly weakened, it could no longer squeeze her that easily, though she was not in a good condition either.
Wynne painfully nodded then, she tore her gaze away from her and focused pointedly on the helpless templar.
"No! Can't you see? She not strong enough to slay it! Let me do it! Please, let me do it!" He begged heart-wrenchingly. "Please… I can't bear to see her like this…please…" he cried.
"Alistair, be strong. Be a good king." She spoke slowly, word by word. "You promised."
An arrow perched perfectly on the back its claw.
"Don't you dare lay a finger on her!" A squeaky voice was screaming. "I am not a Grey Warden, but I love her! And I am not going to let you beast trample her just like that!" And the bard furiously shot continuously at the beast, in a long an uninterrupted flow.
The beast cried out in pained as it threw her feeble body away. Something hard had caught her. "My, my, look at it. It looked terrible."
"Sha- Sha-yle, let- let me down. I told you guys don't com- come any closer." She wheezed. "I need to slay this alone, with you all stay as far as possible." She gave a slow and deliberant glance at each of them. "Please." She begged. The stone golem tentatively and carefully let her down as she painfully she pushed herself from her. "The beast was talking it's time to heal… I can't afford to…"
"Then here, drink this potent health poltice, it will at least boost your strength for the slightest moment," The Antivan Elf extended his hand to her mouth. "In Antiva, we sometimes used it to boost our on-bed performance."
She hastily took a large gulp. "Thanks, Zev."
She gave a grateful nod at the person who had just saved her. The girl was tearfully smiling encouragingly back at her. Then she looked at all of her companions, urging them to back away to where Wynne was. Assured that they were all far enough, she grasped tightly the 2 swords that were in her hands and dashed forwards openly once more to the healing beast.
The beast was taken aback by her relentless and quickly retaliated with shoot of blue fireballs, followed by a tight swipe from his tail, but this time, she managed to dodge them perfectly. She leaped gracefully sky high and landed perfectly on its long neck. The beast swung it head distraughtly, trying to shake her off, and its spiked tail was dangerous sweeping just over her head. She dodged somewhat clumsily, hunching her back. It growled and howled, spouting blue flames everywhere. She knew she only had a few more extended moments before her strength wore out. With that final strength and acknowledgement, she stabbed hard both of her blades unto the demon's neck downwards and pulling her blades stiffly in oppositional left and right direction, steadfastly splitting its neck away from its head.
The deed is done.
A radiant light gushing out of the hideous yet ailing body of the beast, so bright that the only thing she could see was only light. No, she did not close her eyes, because she had promised that she will see the task through, and she will. She pushed herself up and watched at the source of blinding light. Somehow, she knew that the light was growing larger and larger, spreading further and further away from the source, very hastily.
Just then, a strong force forced itself out like bursting spell blasted her away from the source. She was like a little pebble tossed casually and hit straight on the furthest wall, creating a large crack on that wall before sliding down from it. She lay there, motionless, against the wall. Throbbing pain shot up everywhere from her broken body to every part of her shattered bones, but her right hand could still feel the rough and thick-skinned hilt, she could still feel her sword, her family sword, the Cousland family sword and she grasped it so tightly with all her remaining strength that her hand was trembling.
"If anything is worth fighting to keep out of Howe's Hands, it's that sword."
Then she felt something different. Something uneasy and dark had crept its way into her body. Her grasp of her body was weakening. Her blade slipped from her grip. Her sight was fading, her hearing was waning.
"Alistair," she suddenly spoke up, breaking that long and awkward silence in his room. "Do you think that those Grey Wardens, who had ended the previous four Blights, manage to return to the Maker?"
He straightened his hunched and awkward back. "Why would you ask that?"
"Just a thought." She replied, trying her best to sound off handedly, maybe a little too quick.
"Right, and I and not supposed to be alerted by the underlining meaning of your thought." He gawked at her, scrutinizing her.
She quietly cursed herself. But even so, she ignored his stare and continued to glance at the corner of room, watching their dancing shadows created by several lit candles, orchestrated by the unseen wind in the room. "Riordan said that the soul of the Grey Warden will be destroyed along with the Archdemon's soul. You don't suppose his soul will be completely destroyed, literally?"
He continued to look at her, uneasy. "We uh-, we were not supposed to wander into that territory."
She huffed. "So you never thought of it?"
"I- I never actually thought about that…I never wanted to think about that."
But she was not about to let him off that easily. "What about those Grey Wardens who slay the Archdemon? Will he be able see to the rest of the Grey Warden after he slay the Archdemon? Will he pass beyond the Fade like the rest? Or his soul will be destroyed?"
"Uh, I don't like where this is going." He fidgeted. "… …Maybe his soul is not destroyed. Maybe they are supposed to mean his body will be destroyed along with the Archedemon, that simple."
"Wouldn't he would feel much better if he knows that there is someone waiting for him? To know that he not be alone, to know that there is still something for him." She paused. Then, she turned her gaze at him. "That someone is there for him." And their eyes met. Her eyes were quiet and soft, yet glittering so ever delicately.
He fell into silence, speechless. "I-
"Who do you think he will see?"
He lowered his head; maybe he did not want her to see him sulk again. "Duncan, probably. With the rest of the Grey Wardens who died." He balled his hand. And he looked up. "What about you?"
"Me?" She asked innocently. "What about you?"
"Hey, it's not fair, I asked you first and besides, I already answered you, indirectly."
She grinned. He was not as easy to be side tracked as he used to. "Okay, you win."
"So?"
She lowered her gaze. "…My family."
"Oh, and no Duncan?" He teased.
She sighed wearily. "And maybe Duncan if you insist."
"If I insist?" He spoke with incredulous yet humorous tone. "I thought you like him."
Like him? Duncan forcibly conscripted her into the Grey Warden when her home was being destroyed! When she was supposed to stay back and protect her home! Her initial Duty! But she respected that man; maybe he was right to do so. If he did not, she would shudder to think where the remaining Grey Warden(s) of Ferelden would be right now.
But, she kept that part to herself, as always and remained silent. When she looked up, Alistair was already caught in his own webs of thought and regrets. "If only, if only…I was…No. No." His expression hardened but determined. "It was in the past." He tightened his fist. "But things will be different after the Blight, I swear."
But to her, that was enough.
"You know what, Alistair?" She was entering a dangerous territory now, a territory that she was not yet prepared to wander, where she had tried so hard to maintain the equilibrium. But she ignored its warning, she had to tell him this, she wanted him to be strong, be a man, and be a king, no, be a good king.
"What?"
"You are going to be a good king."
It did take a while to hit him and when he did, his hardened face dissipated and was replaced by a rather awkward smile, "By good, I don't suppose it's your definition of great. You know, you are always in such demanding manner." He joked; his head turned a little to another angle, his innocent face was blushing, his eyes were avoiding hers. She huffed a little and lifted her hand quietly placing her right hand on his left cheek. Softly, she pushed his face so that their eyes locked.
"No, a good king is enough for me." Her eyes were so earnest.
His mouth was open, noticeably wordless. "I- I- I am- I mean, you-," with him caught off guard, still stumbling for a correct response to counteract, she quickly stole a kiss from his blushing cheek.
"And you will not be alone. They will be there for you."
Everything is fading, no, rather they are melting away, at least that was what she was feeling now. They were melting into plain darkness, leaving only a tiny somewhat jumbled ray of light shining towards her. A sense of emptiness, despair, loneliness suddenly crept their way into her supposed soul. Is this what this Archdemon was supposed to be comprised of?
The mass of feelings were so strong, she felt desperately helpless, alone.
Drifting… …Alone… …
Was she alone now? Was she finally alone?
All these times… she was always alone, was she not? She was the sole survivor of the Cousland line, 2 of the last Grey Wardens of Ferelden. She was always alone. So what difference did it make now?
Yet why did she so desperately to hide her sense of loneliness from others?
No. It was not true. She admitted she did feel this way several times, but not now. What she been through, she should have known better. Was she alone during her journey? Was she alone when she was at Ostagar? Was she alone when she had to endure those false accusations that many ruthless threw at her?
Was she alone when she had to decide everything for those who couldn't solve their very own internal problems?
No. No. She was not alone. They were all there. They were always there. She said so herself. She said so to Alistair too. And perhaps even now, they were still there beside her lifeless body. They will be, they promised.
Then what about her decisions? Those decisions she made? All those decisions that she made?
So many things, they flashed in discord, they thudded her mind and her will.
They will affect the world, for better or for worse.
It was right. It will affect the world, for better or for worse, collectively.
So what?
She decided and she will live and die by her decisions. Yet they still abided her, obeyed her, and followed her, by doing so they had mutually agreed that they will live and die by her decisions.
So what?
It was the corruption. All these were temptations of the besmirched soul of the Archdemon. False despair, fake desolation, fears of the future, disappointment of her own decision…
No! She will not yield to that corrupted sentiment! She will not be struck down by this mass of taint! Even if her soul was to be destroyed, she will overcome it! She will be the one that destroy it!
Not by it!
And then she noticed, the tiny ray of light was growing little by little. A vague image began to form within. Twisted and slurred silhouettes of six: five tall ones and a very tiny one could be seen within that image.
"Father! Look! Look! It's Auntie!" A familiar voice rang in her ears amidst of the fading light.
She saw them, she saw all of them. They was waiting there, they had been waiting for her. Was it real? Or was it just a wishful illusion prior to her ultimate end? She felt she was now weightless, perhaps even form-less but she knew that she was grinning. She had a confession to make to them.
A very, very long confession.
Author's note:
Wrote months ago, but halfway along the road got stuck and too lazy to resume. After chat with roxfox1962, a clearer picture came into my mind, so I just resume, and it turned somewhat okay-ly. But it's obvious that there're some changes of styles throughout the story.
It's a bit cliche and probably this kind of story is all over the site, oh well. So R and R, please? I would like to know how people think about the last part( Just above the Author's note).
And thank you for reading.