She's lying there, staring up at the sky. Clouds looming over head, their edges lacquered with sunlight. It's like someone's saying her name, but she doesn't have the energy to get off the ground – she can't even turn her head. Her eyelids start to flutter down, and it feels so perfect to let them drift closer to close. All the physical pain she's endured for endless month after month dissipates, flowing out of her and into the crimson puddle pooling around her shoulders. She remembered watching her family die, less peacefully than herself, and is grateful for this gentle ending.
She thinks to herself about how she'd like to reach out and comfort her friends. Did they really know each other? No, not really. Maybe a little. But when you spend so much time with people, fighting for survival, saving the life of one another time after time… Well, you develop a special bond. Probably a closer bond than any she had in her earlier years. They still have to journey on, carry her death as a burden on their shoulders. She doesn't want them to blame themselves, but they will, even if she had the strength to tell them otherwise. A part of her is disappointed her journey has come to an end, but another part – a much larger part – is relieved she can finally stop fighting. She can finally pass on and give up. She made it this far, which was enough of an accomplishment. Now it was her time to let go, she could finally have peace. She wanted that more than anything. The way her world had changed... well; there was no peace for her.
Sometimes she found herself wishing she'd gone with her family. Other times she was grateful for the adventure she'd been allowed to have. It all had to end though. She'd done what she needed to.
She'd gotten revenge, honoring the death of her parents. A piece of her heart ached to see her brother again, another ached for the wife and child he'd had stripped from him. Revenge couldn't bring back anyone back, regardless of how hard she wished it. She did her best. She really did. She reminds herself this as a shadow looms into her vision.
It's him. She pretends she can feel it when he lifts her head into his lap. More than anything she wants to reach out to him. If she could force herself to move, she would. But all her strength has ebbed away from her. I love you. She wants to say it. Scream it. But she can't. She simply lies there helpless, maybe she's crying. She can't tell. But her heart weeps, forcing more blood out of the wounds covering her body.
She knew this was the end. Before the fight ever began, this was the inevitable, irrefutable ending. She wouldn't let him sacrifice himself. Their country needed him to lead them out of the darkness, and into a better, newer world. She could have fought it, but there was no honor in that.
It was getting harder to draw air in, she had hardly been aware she was inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. Now that she was losing the ability to do so, she began to notice. But she accepted it. Her eyes finally shut all the way.
With the last bit of strength she had in her body, she smiled. She was so happy, even if it was in the most awful, bittersweet way. She'd saved her friends, the man she loved, avenged her parents, and returned honor to the Grey Wardens.