From the ground, all could see the intense and powerful shockwave that shot outwards at the top of Fort Drakon. It ripped though the clouds and shook the tower with such great force that, for a moment, seemed that the tower would fall. In the heart of the shockwave was an explosion that emanated from the Archdemon. Darkspawn retreated in fear, and those who were not fast enough were slain by Fereldan soldiers.

For ten minutes, the army below celebrated victory. Tears of joy were cried, friends reunited, and the cheering could be heard for miles. Some even danced with one another, and a handful of soldiers kissed.

The doors of Fort Drakon slowly opened, and soldiers began to cheer when they saw the heroes, their saviors. But then, all fell silent when they saw their condition.

Out of the front door limped Alistair, in extreme pain but very much alive. Horrid and terrible burns covered the entire right half of his face. The hair on that side was singed and burned, and his eyebrows were gone. The once handsome Warden now looked as beautiful as a drake without scales.

Behind him walked Morrigan, her hand on his back to steady him as he walked. She had a grim look. She never showed much emotion, but now she felt nothing but a sense of regret and sadness that could be plainly seen on her pale face.

Finally, out between the doors walked Leliana. Her face was wet with tears and rain, but no one could see either under the veil of her blood red hair, which hung down along with her head. Her arms and legs were shaking violently from exertion and heaving cries. In her arms lay the body of William Cousland, his arm hanging downwards towards the ground.

To the soldiers, a Warden was dead, sacrificed to save them all.

To Leliana, the world was shattered into a thousand pieces.

Alistair sat out in the heavily pouring rain, looking at the sword that he had used just hours ago with one eye, the other covered entirely by bandages along with the rest of the right half of his face and neck. It was the blade of Duncan, the Grey Warden that conscripted him, the Grey Warden that conscripted William some time after. Maker, he could remember both Joining rituals like they were just yesterday. They had recovered the sword from Ostagar some time after its attack. Along with it, they laid to rest his half-brother, whom the Darkspawn had hung up like an ornament... but he chose not to think of it at the moment. All he had on his mind was the damned sword. Blood was dried on it, but even with the caked on mess, he could still see the sharp and amazing letters, the Grey Warden motto, etched into the razor sharp blade.

In war, victory.

On his blind side, William's faithful Mabari hound, Badger, whined. The dog was in agony of losing its master, of that Alistair was beyond sure.

In peace, vigilance.

Guilt plagued him. When he had saved Leliana, he knew that William's fate was sealed. He wanted to save everyone. He was glad that she was alive, but... if William had been in his position, he would be alive now, too. When he came out of unconsciousness, William was...

In death, sacrifice.

He stabbed Duncan's blade into the ground at his feet, putting his hands on his forehead and pushing his fingers into his honey-blonde hair. The metal of his gauntlets froze his skin and scalp. He hadn't had time to change out of the armor, either that or he didn't want to find the time. He hadn't decided on that yet.

heard footsteps in the mud, a distinct sucking noise, as though the ground was attempting to devour the shoes of the one who walked upon it. He knew who was approaching, however. If it were to have been Leliana, then he likely wouldn't have heard her. In fact, she had probably already been nearby. No, it was no rogue.

"I'm surprised that you've stayed around for even this long." Alistair said, sighing, not looking back.

The telltale sound of an amused huff blew from Morrigan's nostrils. "It was not my original plan."

"Might I ask what your original plan was?" Alistair asked. "Because I'm having trouble wrapping my head around the promise you made me."

"Promise? Now what might this be?" She asked. "If you are referring to what you and I-"

"Enough games." Alistair said. "Why didn't it work?"

"A great many things could have attributed. I, however, know as much as you do." Morrigan uttered grimly. "The ritual failed."

"So what you're saying is, you have no clue why?" Alistair asked, turning on her. He was on his feet and almost in her face in under two seconds. Her yellow, cat-like eyes focused on his brown ones with intense precision.

"Not at all." Morrigan replied, scoffing. "If anything, it was your fault."

"You guaranteed that the soul of the Archdemon would-"

"I guaranteed nothing. All that I said was that if I bore a child, if, it would absorb the dragon's essence instead of you or William." She said, pointing to him with her finger in his face. "Do not accuse, for that promise was one even I was unsure of."

Before the four of them charged to Redcliffe to attack the horde at its head, Morrigan made Alistair an offer. If he lay with her before the Archdemon was slain, she would have the possibility of carrying a child, and, through the use of dark magic and a darker ritual, the child would become a vessel for the soul of the Archdemon. The child would be born without the taint, and with the soul of an Old God. Though unnatural, Alistair accepted. He wished to see no one die.

"What I fail to understand, Morrigan, is why you would promise such a thing when you knew that you could be completely wrong!" Alistair said coldly.

"I am just as saddened as you!" She hissed. "Do you think yourself to be the only one who is hurt by his loss? Leliana cannot bear to see his corpse, much less hear his name! Even his hound has experienced a greater loss than you!"

Alistair knew Morrigan to be cold hearted at times, perhaps inconsiderate for most of the time that he had known her. Under his breath, he had called her many things, some of which she had heard - scoundrel, witch, another word which sounded very similar to witch - but her words cut so deep into his heart at that precise moment that the only word that he could find was silence, and he practiced it instead of speaking it.

His knees buckled, and he slid against the wall behind him until he was sitting on the muddy ground. Burying his head in his hands, he choked back every word that came to mind along with the ocean of guilt that washed over him. Badger nudged his nose under his arm and tried to lick his face, but Alistair pulled away.

Morrigan suddenly felt something that she had never felt for the Warden; remorse. She knew that he felt terrible already, and she had practically pounded his head into the ground. She was surprised at the feeling. It was not as though she had never felt such a thing before, but...

"Alistair, I-"

"No. You're right." He mumbled. "I'm being selfish. I haven't been able to think clearly, not since..."

Morrigan crouched down to his side and leaned against the wall with him, I'll crossing her legs as she sat to his left.

"I feel as though if I had been somewhere else, he'd still be alive now." He sighed. "He would be absolutely fine, and Leliana would be happy, and... I don't know."

"You're right. You don't know." She said with an amused look on her face. "If you had been anywhere else, then Leliana would be dead. And if William were to still be alive, he would be just as crushed, not just over her death but... yours, as the ritual did not work. You... you would have died instead."

Her tone slowly changed from one of amusement to a monotone and hollow one. What was this feeling?

"Do I detect disappointment in your voice?" Alistair asked. "If you want, I could likely crawl into a bush and die with little effort."

"I don't want you to die." She replied.

"But...?" He baited, waiting for a continuation of her sentence. But I wouldn't mind it if insert awful and painful thing here were to occur.

This made her grin a bit. "No." She said. "No buts."

They sat there for a few minutes in silence. Alistair was thoroughly surprised. Morrigan was, as well. Every several seconds, she would glimpse at the Warden, expecting something to come from his mouth. She recalled the time back at camp but a week ago, when he had tripped and fallen whilst trying to put on his boots standing up. He damn near fell into the campfire. William was laughing, and the other Warden had chased him 'round the camp with one boot raised high in the air like a club.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Alistair asked, looking up to the sky and gesturing with his hands. "Headache? Nausea? Perhaps some sort of painful smack on the h-"

Something warm brushed his cheek, startling him. He shifted in the opposite direction quickly and stared at Morrigan.

"Did you just... put your mouth on my face?" He asked, completely taken aback.

"T'was a kiss, you fool." She said. "You do know what a kiss is, don't you?"

He reached up to his cheek, stunned. "Do you need medical attention?"

"Don't tell me that you didn't enjoy it, Alistair." She said. "The ritual."

The Grey Warden could practically feel himself turning red. "...S-so what if I did?" He asked. "It was sex, Morrigan, how wouldn't I-"

"The first time I laid eyes upon you, you were a stubborn man with the temperament of a stubborn little boy." She said, cutting him off. "Now, I see a tired man with the temperament of a tired man."

"What's your point?" He asked as soon as she finished her sentence.

"You've changed since we met. Your half sister... Goldanna was it? She was a large part of that change. William changed you. You've hardened yourself. As a result, you're practically a different person."

He lightly scoffed, but not in objection. "I hope there isn't a problem with that."

"No. I like you the way that you are now." She said with a rare smile. "I do."

"That doesn't explain why you just... oh." He said. "You mean...?"

"Yes, I believe I do."

"Oh, Maker." He sighed.

"Do you have a problem with that?" She inquired.

"A bit, yes." He said. "It's... strange. And here I always thought you hated my guts."

"I never hated you." She replied. "I just... disliked your presence. Very much."

"I'm touched."

"... 'Tis hard to explain." She sighed.

Alistair half expected William to comment on their conversation, and he looked up to tell him to stuff a sock in it. Then he remembered.

...Then he realized that... she had helped him forget. For just a minute.

"So... what now?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What happens now?"

She sighed. "Oh, I've no plan anymore. What little plan I had was... well, this. Afterwards..."

"Having trouble with words, I take it?" He mocked.

She scowled. "Among other things."

"What do you want to do?" He asked.

She thought for a moment. And a few moments after that, she came up with an answer. Still a few moments following, she weighed in her head wether or not it was the right thing to say. It likely wasn't.

"I think I want to talk a bit more." She replied.

Alistair sighed, but it was a peaceful sigh. "I can talk." He said.

"Yes, I've noticed." Morrigan said with a grin on her face.

"Oh, shut up." He chuckled.

"I've also noticed that I don't know very much about you." Morrigan said. "I've fought at your side for quite a time, and the most that I know is that you're good with your sword."

Alistair chuckled at that statement, the source of his laughter coming from either him being tired and depressed, or just the fact that he was being childish. Both, likely."At least I now have a reliable reference."

Morrigan looked at him sideways, then realized why he was laughing.

She sighed. "Men."

"We can talk about me, if you really wish." Alistair said.

"Perhaps we can take a stroll while we talk." Morrigan said. "Simply sitting still... I don't believe I can do it, right now."

"Now that you mention it," Alistair said, stretching. "I've barely stood in the past two or three hours."

They stood up and walked off of the dirt path turned mud, Badger following close behind them. After a few minutes, the dog grew bored of their conversation and spotted a Fennec darting through the bushes, which he promptly chased.

Their time alone was much appreciated.

The next day...

"My friends, we gather here today to pay our respects to the Grey Warden that saved us all."

Alistair stood, boots sunk into the mud, several yards behind Queen Anora. She was clad in an elegant robe, fit for a queen indeed, and her golden hair was pulled back in a bun on her head.

The wife of the late King Cailan, Anora was, though very uptight and proper, a very well practiced leader of Ferelden. During her husband's rule over the nation, she was claimed to have been the one pulling the strings politically, careful not to make an enemy - or ally - that would hurt Ferelden and its people. She was highly experienced, a much more capable ruler than her husband according to many political leaders. Alistair knew that the continent was in good hands.

Dozens of soldiers, noblemen, noblewomen and friends were gathered around her. Rather, who lay before her. On a table of solid marble, intricately modeled, and surrounded by branches, cut from an enormous oak tree, lay William's corpse. He didn't look dead. Just sleeping. He looked asleep, that was it. His hands were folded across his chest, finger locked in finger. The plate armor he had worn when he died had been replaced by wool garments for his cremation. A tent was over the slab, as to not wet the wood... or William's ashes. Alistair inhaled deeply though his nose; it hurt to breathe in though his mouth, as the flesh around his lips was heavily burned. The linen bandages were soaked despite his attempts to arrive quickly. The cool sensation of the damp cloth against his charred flesh hurt, like a frostbite. He was paying the injuries no mind, however. He was told that dragon fire was very deadly, that he easily could have died if not for Leliana to return the favor of saving her, but such things were not on his mind right now.

No, his mind was on the strange Witch of the Wilds which had invaded his thoughts since the night before.

He could see her from where he stood. She was but five yards away, sitting with Badger. She generally disliked the dog, he recalled, but the mabari was paying her no mind, unlike the many times that he had gone out of his way to push his wet dog nose into her business. Once, he had dropped a dead bird in her pack as a present.

Remembering this perplexed him. She often referred to Alistair as dumber than the dog. He had always assumed that things like that she said were serious, as the cool tone she donned a majority of the time suggested. Maybe they were, at that time.

"He gave his life to destroy the blight, a sacrifice we must never forget." Anora continued. Anora's voice stopped Alistair's train of thought for the moment. "It was no accident that he was there, either. He was special, and each of us had our own life touched by him in some way."

When he regained consciousness on the top of Fort Drakon, the first person that he saw over him was Morrigan. He hadn't thought about it at the time, but she had a terrified look on her face. He was more concerned about everyone's safety than the looks on their faces. Leliana was on her knees. William was on the ground. The realization had hit him like a battering ram made of dragon bone.

That, at least, he could remember clearly.

"Some of you were his friends and companions." Anora continued. "Some of you he helped... Some of you even loved him."

Alistair looked to Morrigan, raising his eyebrows. Where is Leliana?

She gave a look back that held a grim shadow in her eye. Mourning.

"It was his word that put me on the throne... and for that I am grateful beyond measure." Anora said. "The Grey wardens could not have asked for anyone finer. How does one properly honour someone like that?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Alistair could not have answered it on this day even if it were not.

"The Wardens are building a magnificent tomb at Wiesshaupt, next to that of Garahel, but I believe... more... is required." She said decisively. "Fergus Cousland, please step forward."

The sudden announcement took Alistair off guard. He looked, along with much of the crowd, towards a man covered neck to toe in red steel chainmail and plates. He had light skin and reddish-brown hair, and his facial hair was scraggly, as though he hadn't the chance to shave in weeks.

Fergus Cousland? William had spoken little of his brother, but he had with good reason. On Alistair's curiosity, William told him one night in camp what had happened to his family. Arl Rendon Howe, Loghain Mac Tir's faithful consultant and supporter, had led his troops against the Couslands at Highever Castle. There was massive bloodshed, and almost everyone that he had known, including his mother and father, his sister in-law... they all died in the attack. Specifically, he recalled finding his brother's son, his own nephew, dead on the floor. Just a little boy, killed by evil men. Alistair couldn't remember what his name was, and it bothered him. Fighting through Howe's troops, William narrowly escaped with Duncan. His brother was scouting the Korcari Wilds, and William accepted that his brother had been slaughtered at Ostagar's attack, along with the immense amount of other soldiers and mages.

"We were very pleased to discover you alive, Fergus. You were thought to have been killed at Ostagar." Anora said.

"I only wish that I had recovered from my wounds sooner." Fergus said. His eyes were locked on his younger brother's body. "May I...?"

"He is your kin. I'll not stop you from mourning." Anora said, an understanding tone in her voice.

Fergus walked a few steps towards the slab. Everyone watched as he moved his sword sheathe out of place and unlatched a second sheathe from his belt. Alistair expected it to clatter to the floor l, but the other man's grip was sure despite his appearance of weakness and sorrow. He raised the sword with both hands on separate parts of the sheathe, and wrapped William's hands around it. The way that he was lying there, he looked as though he was standing up, and using the sword as support.

"When you see him," Alistair heard Fergus whisper. "Tell him that I brought him his sword."

Fergus looked up to Queen Anora and exhaled deeply, his heavy breath lost in the pitter-pattering of rain in the mud. He nodded for her to resume.

"Fergus, the Highever lands are returned to you... in addition to the Amaranthine Arling that was Arl Howe's."

"Your majesty, if I may..." Fergus cut in. "I wish for the Arling of Amaranthine to be gifted to the Grey Wardens for support. I've no use for the land, and... it brings back memories."

Anora nodded. "I think that would be fitting." She said. "Let all know that the Arling of Amaranthine, once the land of the traitorous Arl Rendon Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, and hopefully live up to this example."

"Friends, let us hope that he has moved on to a better place, and that he knows just how thankful we are for what he has done here." Anora said.

"Queen Anora?" Alistair said. She looked to him. "May I say a... a few words?" He asked.

Anora nodded.

Looking upon the crowd, he was at a loss. The only thing on his mind now were the horrible things that came after his friend's untimely death. Leliana was absolutely broken. She refused to speak to anyone, and ever since the soldiers took William's body from her arms, which she had put up quite the fight about, she hadn't shed a single tear. He supposed that was how she grieved, but he still worried for her. He was worried for everyone.

He walked towards the slab, each of his footsteps feeling like a mile, each second an eternity. When he finally reached his fallen friend, he loosened his steeled muscles. He looked more peaceful up close than he did from just a few yards away.

"I... I think I'll just say what comes to mind." Alistair spoke.

The crowd fell silent. They were quiet before, but now, they were wordless.

Dead silent.

"He was... a friend. My greatest friend, as a matter of fact. We didn't always get along on the best of terms, but William was a fantastic person. He taught me much, throughout my journey with him. Things that I wish that I had known."

Alistair swallowed a feeling of guilt, and he kept going.

"Through his words, William taught me that you can't just give up when the going gets tough. Through his battles, both physical and emotional... he taught me that a quick mind can solve most everything. Through his actions... most recently those of last night... he taught me that the outcome of destiny is not always chosen by those who await a grim stem of it. Sometimes, you just have to accept your fate."

Looking down at William once more, his eyes trailed to the sword that Fergus had given him just a minute ago. He wished that he hadn't immediately afterward.

He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and continued.

"I will never forget this man, not for the rest of my life. Even when I'm old and grey, I'm sure that I'll honor his memory. I hope that you do as well." He said. "Thank you."

Alistair stepped out from the front of William and walked towards Morrigan, head down towards the ground. When he reached her, he did not turn around.

"Now... we bid the hero of Ferelden farewell." Anora said. "He will be sorely missed."

After a few moments, raindrops smashing against the back of Alistair's head like bludgeoning, hateful fists, he heard the crackling of igniting tinder, and soon the light sound of flame filled the air. Somehow, the crackles and pops rose over the sounds of the rain.

He looked back at William. Though he was now a few yards away, he could still plainly make out the two bright white words stitched into the leather sword sheathe in blocked, capital letters.

FOR OREN

Deep down, in a very dark and scary part of his heart, he wished that it was himself aflame on the slab.

Meanwhile...

Leliana sat on a wooden crate in an alley in the market district, deep in thought. Her eyes were closed. She didn't hear Alistair or Anora's speeches. She hadn't attended William's memorial in the first place, however, so there was no way that she could have. He was to be cremated on the slab that he lay on, and his ashes were to be scattered at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, just like he had asked. She couldn't bear to see him burn, for then she would have to accept that he no longer was alive.

Who was she kidding? No amount of denial of the truth would bring the love of her life back from the dead.

She hadn't let anyone see her cry since the night she carried his body out of Fort Drakon. Alistair had tried to be comforting, but every time he approached her, she just shrugged him off, smiled lightly and told him that she would be fine. She couldn't talk to him about William anymore. Alistair blamed himself for his death, and that was all that he could show. She saw it.

Leliana opened her eyes, thumbs on her temples. She had seen much in so many years, but nothing and no-one had such an impact as William had.

She knew that she couldn't wallow in misery forever. She would have to move on soon enough. She knew that, no matter what, William wouldn't want her to feel like she did.

That made her feel a bit better.

They stood there, watching the flames consume William's body for the next thirty minutes. After that time, Alistair decided to sit down with Badger. The nosy mabari, soaking wet, licked Alistair in a big, sloppy dog kiss across his face.

Five minutes later, Morrigan followed in Alistair's stead, sitting down and watching the smoke rise into the canvas roof of the tent.

When William's body was almost entirely burned, Leliana came to watch. As the flames continued to lick up the sides of his corpse, she walked her way silently next to Alistair and quietly sat down. At first, she was worried that the Warden would yet again try to console her, help her with her pain. He didn't. He just watched his friend burn.

A single tear streamed down her cheek. In that moment, the single tear was not a tear of sadness. Not one of guilt, nor of pain. It was a tear she shed because, in the future, she could see hope.

And it wasn't far away.

Bang. Better chapter 2!

~Husky