In Death
The next few days seemed to drag on and on as they neared Orzammar. Their conversations had become rigid and impersonal, lapsing back into the mundane topics befitting of a King and a Commander of the Grey. Alistair was much more withdrawn and any smiles were fleeting and disingenuous. Neither of them dared to speak of Lake Calenhad and whenever the notion crossed Taryn's mind, she crushed the impulse.
As they came upon the edge of the mountains, the oak trees gave way to sturdy old pines, and the streams were cold and fresh as they ran down from the glacial lakes high in the Frostbacks. The uphill journey was hard on the horses and the risk of bears and wolves was a pressing danger, but their mounts persevered and they encountered no difficulty by the time they reached the mountain pass.
The front gate to Orzammar was carved into the side of the mountain and rose far above their heads, far taller than those who had crafted it. The plaza in front of the entrance was bustling with activity, dwarven traders, mercenaries, smiths, and all manner of business.
King Bhelen's rule had vastly reduced the trading restrictions for surfacers and casteless dwarves. It brought a lot of controversy among the more traditional factions and there was some debate as to whether his rule was regarded as progressive or tyrannical. After King Endrin returned to the stone, Taryn had been instrumental in deciding who would take the throne of Orzammar next, but despite his suspicious rise to rule, Bhelen was the rightful heir.
At the gate, they traded their horses and tent for what food and supplies they could carry before venturing into the mountain. A few armored dwarves stood guard at the entrance to Orzammar but made no move to halt the Grey Wardens as they entered.
Not much had changed since their last visit over two decades ago. Dwarven architecture was built to last, as demonstrated by the long abandoned thaigs deep in the mountains that had endured for centuries. A few dwarves stopped to stare at the passing Grey Wardens, but Taryn kept the pace quick as they hurried to the entrance to the Deep Roads.
Chances were good that if King Bhelen knew they were coming, he would throw some kind of feast in their honor, and Taryn wished to avoid all the spotlight. Her moment there was over and now she was just another Grey Warden whose time had come.
They stopped just outside the tunnel that lead into the Deep Roads, checking their supplies a final time to ensure they had everything they needed. It would take at least three days to reach the Dead Trenches and hopefully there they would find enough darkspawn to pose a challenge.
When their gear was loaded onto their backs, Taryn turned around and realized that several dwarves had come to watch. Even Alistair seemed uneasy as they all stood silently, knowing full and well that there were few Grey Wardens who journeyed into the Deep Roads with the intention of leaving again.
Across the way on the bridge to the Proving Grounds, Taryn could see a company of dwarves in plate mail surrounding another that bore a large crown upon his head. King Bhelen raised a hand in silent farewell, and Taryn and Alistair returned the gesture before they turned and entered the dark tunnels.
"Well that was creepy," Alistair muttered quietly.
As they walked through the tunnel, the light of the city quickly faded behind them. When the darkness became unnavigable, Taryn took her staff in hand and cast a small ball of bright light at the end. They only needed it for a short while until the tunnel opened into the splendid halls of the Deep Roads. Lava flowed in trenches along the walls, casting shadows across the intricately carved stone. Tall pillars rose on each side all the way to the high ceiling, making Taryn feel quite small.
There was no sense of night and day deep within the mountain, so the Wardens continued until they were too weary to walk. They passed through Aeducan Thaig and nearly made it to Caridin's Cross, by Taryn's memory. Despite the dangers of the Deep Roads, shelter was relatively easy to come by. One just had to make sure that it wasn't already inhabited.
The first alcove they had tried to seek shelter in turned out to be infested with giant cave spiders. They dealt with the oversized arachnids, but didn't particularly feel like camping there afterward.
The second cave they found was vacant, and Taryn used her magic to seal the entrance to keep enemies out. As an extra precaution, she laid out a few wards in case anything tried to get the jump on them. At least this way no one would need to stay up and keep watch.
Pulling a few pieces of firewood from their packs, the small campfire was their only source of light when Taryn extinguished the small ball of glowing magic in her hand. For dinner, they roasted a leg of mutton they had gotten on the surface and boiled potatoes and carrots in a pot. After they finished eating, Taryn was busy sharpening the blade of her staff but Alistair looked restless. They had not said more than a dozen words to one another upon entering the Deep Roads and it seemed that he had finally hit his limit.
"So when are we going to talk about this?" he asked abruptly.
Taryn didn't bother looking up from her work as she replied, knowing exactly what he was referring to. "There's nothing to discuss. I've told you how I feel."
Alistair scoffed then, the harsh sound echoing off the walls of the cave. "At least look me in the eye when you lie to my face," he growled.
Taryn glared up at him, setting her whetstone and staff aside. "What do you want me to say?" she questioned sharply. "We've been apart longer than we were together. Our love was young and foolish."
"So what, it was never real to you?" he shot back.
Taryn felt her temper ignite. "How dare you." Before she could stop herself, the words were spilling from her lips. "Do you have any idea how many nights I cried after the Landsmeet? You were the first love I had ever known, so don't you dare suggest it meant nothing to me!"
A pained look came to Alistair's face as his voice softened. "Taryn…"
"No!" she snapped. "I moved on. There's nothing left."
"I don't believe that," he insisted quietly. "You won't even try?"
Taryn balked at him. "How can you even say that?" she demanded, "What about your wife and children?"
His gaze turned very serious then. "I love my wife and my children, but that doesn't mean that I did not think of you every day we were apart."
Taryn could feel his words fraying the seams of her heart, but her anger and disbelief burned brighter. "No, that's exactly what it means!" she argued. "You can't love two people at once."
"I don't know how to explain it." Alistair ran a hand through his hair as he released sigh of frustration. "I did then and I do now."
Taryn's chest was painfully tight and she could feel tears pricking at her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I will not be an instrument of your infidelity."
Alistair growled loudly, genuine anger sparking in his eyes. "Damn you, Taryn! Damn you and your honor and your altruism. It has always been what's stopped you from being happy!" With that, he took his bedroll, crossed to furthest corner of the cave before laying it down and crawling under the blankets, keeping his back to her.
Taryn wanted desperately to lash out, to shout, to cry, to break the earth apart with her magic, but all she could do was sit there as hot tears rolled down her cheeks, staring into the flames. Alistair was right, and she despised that fact with all her heart. Taryn had no doubts about what he had been implying – if she had not made him King then they could have been together. Taryn knew that Alistair had never been thrilled by the idea of becoming King, but she had never imagined that she was one of the reasons.
If there was anything that Taryn had learned on this journey, it was that she did still care for Alistair and always had, but she had buried the feeling deep within herself. Now that it was coming to the surface, it terrified her. Despite how badly she wanted to surrender to it, years of conditioning made her shut it out to protect herself.
Desperate for a distraction from her spiraling thoughts, Taryn pulled out the Chant of Light and opened it to the last page that she had marked. She was almost at the end now, but she needed something to keep her mind occupied. However, the glow of the campfire was far too dim to read by, so she conjured a small ball of light and placed it on a rock beside her.
Taryn glanced in Alistair's direction for any indication that it disturbed him, but either he didn't notice or he didn't care. Wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her glove, Taryn released a sigh and began reading.
Unfortunately her composure had only been temporary; the heartfelt nature of the notes from her closest friends almost had her in tears several times over. Taryn tried to recall when she had become such a snivelling waif. Still, she continued through the book until there were only a few pages left. Of course Andrin would save his own message for last.
Taryn turned the final verse:
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade
For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.
Draw your last breath, my friends,
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.
Rest at the Maker's right hand,
And be Forgiven.
At the bottom of the page, Andrin had left his short note, and it read:
I've never known a greater woman. Thank you for everything. I pray that love finds you one last time.
Releasing a deep breath, Taryn closed the book and set it down beside her. She would never know what had given it away, but somehow Andrin must have known about her and Alistair. Doubt began to eat away at her; if Andrin had figured it out, who else might have? Though at this point, she wasn't sure it really mattered.
Glancing across the cave, Taryn watched Alistair's chest rise and fall as he slept. Maybe it was Andrin's words or maybe it was her reluctance to continue lying to herself and Alistair, but Taryn felt something within her shift.
Though she could not be sure whether the Chant of Light spoke true of death – she would not know until she got there – what Taryn did know was that she could not depart without setting things right. If there was a life beyond death, she would not live it with regret – not when she could still help it. Too many years she had wasted with a heart frozen shut, but now Taryn had a chance to breathe life into it one last time.
The dreams seemed to get worse the further they ventured into the Deep Roads. The Old Gods whispered and called, in voices not heard but felt; like a river current tugging at her legs. Taryn was no longer being hunted by the darkspawn, but instead she was marching among them; a part of the Horde beckoned by the same masters.
There was no dawn to greet her as Taryn awoke, only dim, glowing coals of the neglected campfire. Pulling herself out of her bedroll she glanced over at Alistair who had turned over sometime in his sleep. He had not even bothered to take off his armor and Taryn suspected he would be sore from it – plate mail was not so forgiving as light armor.
Though she still wasn't sure how to tell him how she felt, Taryn started with breakfast. If tales could be believed, the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She revived the dying fire and cooked several strips of bacon, taking the last of the Orlesian cheese before sandwiching it between two slices of bread and frying it in the bacon grease.
Alistair stirred from his sleep just as she was hiding the strips of bacon between the layers of bread and melted cheese. Taryn watched him from the corner of her eye as he inhaled deeply, looking her way curiously for a moment before plastering on a neutral face. He was still upset with her.
Taryn took a deep breath and walked over to him with the sandwich still resting in the pan and set it in front of him.
"What's this?" he asked in a painfully detached tone.
There had to be better words to tell him that she was sorry, but words had always been Andrin's job. "It's leftover fondue," she offered weakly. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for last night."
Alistair waved a dismissive hand. "No, no, don't worry about it. You've made yourself clear and I will respect that." He seemed completely unaware of just how crestfallen she was as he picked up the sandwich and took a bite. "Not bad," he uttered with a full mouth.
Taryn stood there a moment, her heart straining at the fragile bindings that kept it intact, begging to be heard, but her stubborn mind vehemently refused. Her tongue was caught somewhere in the middle and she mumbled a small "I'm glad," before retreating back to her corner of the cave. What was wrong with her? She could face down legions of darkspawn and a bleeding Archdemon, but this seemed to vex her?
Alistair interrupted her internal strife. "We should pack up and get moving if we want to reach the Dead Trenches in two days," he suggested lightly. "Our water supply won't last much longer."
Taryn complied wordlessly as she began gathering their supplies. She should have known that it would take more than a cheese sandwich and a lame apology to mend things between them. No, it had to be something strong and meaningful beyond words that would show him just how much she cared – Taryn just didn't know what. Romance had come to her so naturally back when they had been together, but now it was a foreign, fickle thing that she had only made worse with her own stubborness.
Clearing the rocks away from the entrance, they continued their journey deeper and deeper into the earth beneath the mountains. Every once in a while they encountered a few darkspawn patrols, but nothing they couldn't easily handle. The place was not as crowded as it had been during the Blight.
As they walked in silence, Taryn wracked her brain for ideas to convey her feelings to Alistair. Down in the Deep Roads she didn't exactly have a lot of options. Taryn had her magic, a copy of the Chant of Light, and the few rations they had left.
Love poems were certainly a heartfelt gesture, but she dismissed the idea as quickly as it had come – words and whatnot. Maybe there was a possession of hers she could give him? Looking down at her hands, there was a large silver ring on her right hand with a gryphon etched into the surface, and the other bore an enchanted gold band that she wore on her thumb; neither would bear any meaning to him. The only trinket that she still held since the Blight was the Joining pendant that hung on a chain from her neck, tucked beneath her armor. Anything was better than nothing – it would have to do.
They walked until their feet grew sore, stumbling upon a nameless thaig deep in the mountain. To their luck, they found a small house whose walls were still intact and took shelter inside. The place must have been abandoned for centuries, though there were still books on the stone shelves, faded tapestries hanging from the walls and ashes in the hearth.
Taryn touched the spine of one of the books as Alistair was busy lighting a fire in the hearth. The ancient leather crumbled beneath her touch, falling away to reveal pages that had nearly turned to dust. She wondered what secrets the old tomes might have once held, but even if the books had been intact, she had not studied dwarvish since she lived in the Circle.
Alistair seemed to be taking the initiative with dinner, so Taryn continued her exploration of the old home with a glowing light in hand. Even in common dwellings the craftsmanship was exquisite, with intricate designs carved into the walls and furnishings.
Taryn stepped into what must have been a bedroom. There was an empty stone frame where a mattress would once have sat – contrary to popular belief, dwarves did not sleep on benches of stone. A carved chair sat in front of a crumbling wooden vanity with a cracked brass mirror that still hung on the wall above the desk.
Releasing a small sigh, Taryn set the light down on the desk as she pulled her pendant out from her armor. The small glass vial held a meager amount of the dark blood from her Joining, with a tiny gryphon etched into the leather wrapping. Shrugging off her pack, Taryn took a seat on the stone bed, turning the pendant in her hand. As she set the bag down, the Chant of Light tumbled out of an open pocket but she made no move to retrieve it, lost in her thoughts.
There had to be some combination of words that could make the pendant meaningful, but nothing came to her. How had Alistair done it so easily in the past? He had handed her a rose and told her that she was a rare and beautiful thing amongst the darkness. Unfortunately there was no hope of finding a rose in the Deep Roads. Taryn's gaze hovered idly over the book on the floor and an idea suddenly struck her. If she could not find a rose then she would have to make one.
Taryn tucked her necklace back into her armor before she snatched up the book and began tearing out pages. She took extra care not to remove any that bore notes from her Wardens. If some pompous Orlesian mage could do it, then so could she: Taryn would make him a paper rose.
Once she gathered a generous supply of paper, Taryn tried to recall just how the mage had begun. Using a telekinetic spell, she started with the stem, twisting a piece of paper until it was sturdy. The Orlesian had begun at the center and worked her way out, so Taryn tore one of the sheets into small pieces before she began manipulating them around the stem.
Her first attempt was crude and hurried, looking like a rose that had been trampled. Taryn tried to shape it further but only made it worse. She broke the spell and let the unworthy flower fall to the ground as she started anew.
This time, she used two sheets for the stem and tried to put a few bends in the stalk to make it look less rigid. Instead of shredding the paper she tried to fold it, but as she worked her way to the outer petals, it only grew more difficult. The end result looked like a crooked twig with a closed bud at the end. It joined the other discard at her feet.
Taryn lost track of time and roses, tearing more and more pages from the book as she strived to get it right. She wasn't sure when, but somehow constructing a paper rose had become more difficult than ending the Blight.
Adding a leaf to the stem made it look more natural, but the delicate nature of the petals continued to perplex her. Taryn had become so focused on her work that when Alistair poked his head through the doorway it gave her a start, causing her current attempt to come apart and drop to the floor.
Gaping stupidly, it was too late to try and conceal her efforts. Taryn's disappointment washed over her. If she had only tried harder, it would have been perfect. This one little gesture might have finally shown him just how much he meant to her, but she couldn't even manage that.
Alistair looked curiously to the flowers at her feet before giving her a questioning look and Taryn dropped her arms at her sides in defeat. "You weren't supposed to see until I got it right," she murmured as she glared down at the scattered roses on the floor. "I was going to hand it to you and ask if you knew what it was, like you did for me."
Taryn looked up at him, his expression unreadable as he moved to sit beside her. Releasing a shuddering sigh, she buried her face in her hands to hide her shame.
There was a hand on her wrist then, and Alistair pulled her arms away before tilting her chin up to look at him. His face was close to hers and she could see the smile toying at the corner of his lips.
"Feeling a little thorny, are we?" he asked softly.
The laugh that bubbled forth from her lips was equal parts relief and elation. There was still a small part of her that instinctively tried to pull away from the feeling, but as Alistair's arms circled around her shoulders, Taryn collapsed against him and felt her resistance turn to ash.
She could not be sure how long they remained that way, but Alistair eventually pulled back and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Come on," he encouraged, "Lest our dinner burn down our shelter."
Taryn placed another fleeting kiss on his lips, before offering a small smirk. "Is it possible to burn down a stone house?" she teased.
Alistair rolled his eyes and he tugged her to her feet as he stood. "Let's not find out."
Taryn was sat leaning back against Alistair's chest with his arms around her waist as they stared into the dancing flames in the hearth. The carved stone walls were bathed in warm, orange light that almost made her forget that they were marching to their end in the depths of the Deep Roads. Sated from their dinner, they spoke in soft voices of their past together and the life they might have had if only things had been different.
Alistair's breath tickled the back of Taryn's neck as he whispered. "After you left Denerim, I never thought my heart would stop hurting," he admitted. "I tried to write you so many times, but your replies - your words pained me."
Taryn breathed a small chuckle. "So did yours," she pointed out. "I could not read half of those letters without breaking into tears."
She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to disclose this next piece of information, but she did not want to hide any truths from him. "I burned many without even reading them."
Alistair fell quiet and Taryn immediately regretted her words, squeezing his hand apologetically. "I'm sorry."
"So am I," he replied. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been to receive such letters from the man who had just broken your heart."
Taryn released a small sigh. "I am sorry if you resent that I made you King," she offered, "but I would do it again if I had to."
"I know," he breathed as he squeezed her a little tighter. "I was angry for a time, but I knew in my heart that it was the right choice. Anora couldn't exactly be trusted."
"I was afraid she might send assassins after you," Taryn admitted. "Even if you had renounced your claim to the throne."
Alistair's chest rumbled against her back as he laughed. "Do you think Zevran was jealous enough to accept the job?"
Taryn smirked as she gave a small chuckle. "I told you over and over again that he wasn't jealous," she insisted, "He just liked to get under your skin."
"Cheeky assassin," Alistair scoffed.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while as the fire gave a small pop every now and then. Taryn wished that they could remain this way forever, but time was something they simply did not have.
The Grey Wardens could sense the presence of darkspawn, but in the Deep Roads it was a constant awareness that surrounded thought and mind. For Taryn it had become a pull – a compulsion drawing her closer and closer to her death. The connection that Wardens shared with the darkspawn was strongest during the Calling.
Glancing down at her hands, the flesh beneath Taryn's fingernails had begun graying and she knew that her time was almost up. Before long, the necrosis would spread and her mind would decay until she was but a husk of who she once was, and then the compulsion would draw her to the rest of the darkspawn. It was fortunate that they were almost there.
Alistair distracted her from her unpleasant line of thought. "Do you remember the first time we spent the night together?" he whispered against the shell of her ear.
A shiver ran down Taryn's spine, and she breathed a small laugh as a light blush heated her cheeks. "You were my first," she reminded him, "How could I forget?"
"I remember being so nervous that my hands were shaking," Alistair admitted. "But there you were, so calm and collected."
Taryn shrugged passively. "It was you I was with, so I did not need to be afraid."
Alistair placed a kiss on the top of her head before leaning forward and resting his chin on her shoulder. The rough stubble of his jaw scratched against her cheek, but it was not unpleasant.
"You were always the strongest of the two of us," he murmured. "Not bad for a Circle mage."
Taryn could hear the smile in his voice, but she bumped him lightly with an elbow regardless. "Careful," she warned as she grinned, "I could still turn you into a toad."
Alistair rumbled another laugh as he tugged at her hips until she turned around, so she could look into his eyes as she sat across his lap. So much about them was different, but Taryn could only see the things that were the same and it was as though no time had passed at all.
The distance between them vanished as Taryn leaned in and kissed him softly. Alistair's hand slid to the back of her neck as his lips moved against hers. It was nothing like the heat and desperation of their kiss back at Lake Calenhad. Each touch was gentle and lingering: without urgency but not without passion.
Alistair deepened the kiss and Taryn wove a hand into his hair, pulling him closer. The arm circling her waist tightened and it seemed as though it was all that kept her from floating away. Her heart had never felt so light.
He kissed her breathless and when Taryn finally pulled back for air, his lips moved along her jaw and down her throat. A breathy sigh escaped her at the sensation, his kisses burning like wildfire across her flesh.
Alistair moved back up to look at her again, leaning his forehead against hers. "Taryn Amell, will you spend our last night in Thedas with me?" he asked firmly.
Taryn had expected her old instincts to protest, but it seemed they had finally been consumed by the fire that blazed within her chest. Looking into his eyes, Taryn nodded her head and breathed her reply. "Yes."
It had been a long time since Taryn had slept in the embrace of another. Alistair's bare chest was warm against her back, and with their shared bedroll laid out near the fire she had to poke her feet out of the blankets to compensate for the extra heat. Even in the hottest summers, Taryn could not recall ever feeling so pleasantly warm.
It didn't stop her nightmares however, but whenever they became too violent - causing her to shiver and twitch - the strong arm wrapped around her waist would pull her closer. The nonsense words that Alistair whispered into her ear chased them away and Taryn would fall back into a peaceful sleep once again. The nightmares did not seem to bother him nearly as much, for he did not writhe as she did.
When Taryn woke she remained comfortable in Alistair's embrace, with his arm strewn across her waist and his deep breaths tickling the back of her neck. Despite the contented feeling in her chest, her thoughts could not help but drift to darker places - it was her last day on earth after all. Today they would die, and it loomed over her like a black storm cloud with cold drizzling rain that chilled to the bone.
Taryn had always bore a healthy respect for death. From all that she had seen throughout the Blight and over the years, she knew that life was as fragile as a candle's flame, so easily snuffed by a wayward breeze. For Grey Wardens, death was always risk, and one had to learn to accept it or live in fear of it.
Though she had never wanted to die, Taryn did not fear death. In all her battles, an errant swing of a sword or stray arrow could have easily ended her life. She had been sent after by assassins, swarmed by an army of darkspawn, and nearly consumed by demons in a burning tower, but still she had survived. It seemed as though death had been chasing Taryn all her life, and it was strange how much more terrifying it had become now that she was rushing to meet it.
Alistair stirred and released a deep sigh as he pulled Taryn closer to him, nuzzling his face against her neck. His lips ghosted over her skin and the dark clouds quickly dissipated as she released a sigh of her own.
"Can't we just stay here forever?" he whispered against her neck.
Taryn intertwined her fingers with Alistair's, giving his hand a light squeeze. "I wish we could," she replied sadly.
They spoke little as they dressed and ate their last meal. The Dead Trenches were only a two hour hike away, so they did not bother packing up any of their supplies and merely armed themselves for battle. Taryn placed the Chant of Light on the stone shelf amongst the other books and Alistair had taken one of the paper roses and tucked it into his belt. With one last fleeting glance over her shoulder, they left their last safe haven behind.
Taryn could feel her insides jittering with anticipation, but every time she started to grow anxious, Alistair would place a reassuring hand on her shoulder or press a quick kiss to her lips. With their arms linked together, they walked through the tunnels of the Deep Roads until they finally came upon the Dead Trenches.
The fortress of the Legion of the Dead was an impressive sight to behold. It was carved into the rock, with large wooden doors as thick as tree trunks and narrow windows for archers to take aim from. A long bridge spanned the chasm between them and the fortress with darkspawn barring the way.
Taryn could feel her heart in her throat, and Alistair squeezed her hand tightly as he looked over at her. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Inhaling a deep breath, she gathered her courage and nodded sharply. "Yes," Taryn replied quietly, and they began walking towards the bridge.
A Genlock archer spotted them first, pointing with its stubby arms as it screeched in alarm. The creature only got halfway through loading its crossbow when Taryn sent a stone fist knocking it straight off the bridge and into the darkness below.
The rest of the darkspawn charged and Alistair roared a battle cry as he met them head on. Taryn conjured a protective barrier around each of them before following him into the fray. Spells were flying from her hands faster than she could think of them and any darkspawn that got too close were met with the sharp blade of her staff.
Alistair was battling a tall Hurlock, catching the twisted blade with his shield before deflecting it and sinking his longsword into the beast's chest. When another darkspawn tried to sneak up on him, Taryn launched a fireball that engulfed the creature in flames.
Another group of darkspawn was charging across the bridge and Taryn rushed to meet them, casting a telepathic blast that knocked several from the bridge, thinning their ranks. Alistair was close behind and the bolt of a crossbow narrowly avoided his head. The darkspawn swarmed him but Taryn was at his side in an instant, hamstringing Hurlock that tried to flank him.
Alistair glanced over his shoulder at her looking a bit surprised, but a smirk quickly twisted across his lips. "I had forgotten how much fun killing darkspawn was," he quipped.
Taryn merely rolled her eyes as she turned to fire another spell at an approaching Genlock. Even with the shadow of death looming over him, Alistair was still able to make light of things. Somehow it really didn't surprise her.
Whenever her mana dropped too low, Taryn snatched a lyrium potion from her belt and chugged it down. The surge of energy felt like a blast of cold air in her chest, and Taryn quickly pulled Alistair back before casting a spell that summoned a mighty gale. The wind travelled down the entire length of the bridge, sending several darkspawn tumbling off into the schism.
Taryn grinned smugly as Alistair gaped at the devastation her spell had wrought. "How's that for a Circle mage?" she boasted.
Alistair laughed as they made their way across the bridge, and any darkspawn that had managed to hold on were swiftly cut down by sword or staff. They made it to the other side of the bridge and the fortress loomed high above them, but more darkspawn were pouring from the tunnels. Their crude armor clattered and clashed, and their dreadful cries echoed off the cave walls.
The two Wardens fought back to back and the pile of corpses only grew as more and more darkspawn threw themselves into the brawl. Before Taryn realized it, she was down to her last lyrium potion, and from his labored panting, she knew that Alistair was growing weary as well.
Taryn froze three darkspawn with a blast of ice before shattering them with a telekinetic blast, but the sound of Alistair crying out had her spinning about to face him. He was battling a Hurlock alpha who brandished a massive war hammer. Alistair struggled to catch each blow with his shield and with a mighty snarl the hammer cracked the wood into splinters.
The force was enough to shatter bones and Alistair howled in pain as he cradled his wrecked arm. Taryn roared in her fury, throwing a rock fist at the alpha and sending it toppling to the ground. There, Alistair was able to slay the wretched beast with a swing of his sword.
Taryn spun back to face the darkspawn behind them, but came face to face with another Hurlock and she didn't have time to think before she felt cold steel pierce her armor and sink into her gut. For a moment she could not move or think; the pain was blinding and Taryn's staff clattered to the ground. A grin of razor sharp teeth parted the sickly grey skin of the Hurlock's rotted lips before it pulled the blade free. Taryn fell to her knees, clutching her stomach to keep her insides from spilling out.
"NO!" Alistair roared from behind her, before attacking the Hurlock.
He cut the creature down, but there were too many darkspawn and Taryn could feel her head growing faint as she failed to staunch the blood flowing between her fingers. With a shaking hand, she pulled the final lyrium potion from her belt and swallowed it down.
In one last desperate surge of power, Taryn cast a spell that drew upon the lifeforce of each enemy around them, and one by one they dropped. Their energy transferred to her, but it took just as much of it too keep casting until the last darkspawn fell with a crash that echoed through the cavern.
Alistair stood there shocked, panting heavily as his eyes roamed over the carnage. Taryn was astounded that he was still on his feet with a bleeding gash in his forehead, a crossbow bolt embedded in his thigh and his armor stained red by more unseen wounds. The arm cradled against his body was mangled and broken, and she knew that he had to be in agony.
Taryn was about to lie down on the ground, but Alistair walked over and hauled her to her feet, his eyes filled with concern as his gaze settled on the deep wound in her stomach. He did not lead them far, simply out of the open and into a small alcove along the fortress wall.
Putting her back against the stone, Taryn sunk to the ground, barely feeling the pain of her wound with the state of shock she was in - surely there was more blood outside her body than in it. Alistair sat down beside her, wincing with each movement. Taryn only had a small amount of mana left but she used all of it to take away as much of his pain as she could.
Alistair reacted by shooting her a look of horror and confusion. "Why did you do that?" he asked incredulously.
"I could not heal your wounds," she assured him, "But you were in pain, and I am not."
Alistair seemed to relax, nodding as he understood. "Thank you."
Taryn's mouth tasted of blood and despite the warmth of the Deep Roads, she soon began to feel the chill of death creeping into her body. Fear clutched her heart, and she quickly turned to Alistair, eyes desperately searching his. "I'm afraid," she admitted hoarsely.
A slight smile came to his lips as his warm eyes softened. "It's alright. That's why I'm right here beside you."
Taryn studied him for a moment, and it suddenly dawned on her in the haze of thoughts that drifted through her mind. "It was never your Calling, was it?" she asked quietly.
Alistair's face was close to hers, and there was no apology in his eyes as he replied. "No."
Taryn searched his eyes desperately. She could not understand how he could sacrifice the rest of his life like this. "Why?"
Alistair's good arm wound around hers and he threaded their fingers together as he stared back at her. "You forget that I was a Warden before you. I might have had three more months or three more years, but I could not let you leave this world without knowing how I felt." He breathed a small laugh as his gaze fell to the floor. "Maybe it's selfish, but I don't think that I could have faced my own Calling without you."
Taryn did not have the will to be angry with him, because she was more glad than she had ever been to have him there with her in this moment. What she had said before was true: she did not need to be afraid when he was there with her, and whatever awaited them in death, they would face it together.
"I love you," she breathed, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
Alistair smiled as he squeezed her hand tight. "And I love you."
Taryn leaned her face against the cool armor of his shoulder, and Alistair rested his head atop hers as they both closed their eyes. Releasing a deep sigh, Taryn felt at peace with her love by her side, ready to leave this world for their next adventure. Hand in hand, the King of Ferelden and the Warden-Commander crossed the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky, together.
