Leliana flipped through the last pages of the Warden's journal. Only a handful remained with his scrawl followed by several dozen blank pages that would await memories never experienced. Their absence renewed her sadness as she found herself wondering what adventures would have graced those lonely sheets of paper.

Would we have followed our fortunes together? Would I have given up my wanderings or vows to remain at his side? Married him? Born his children? Allowed him to face a proper Grey Warden death alone in the Deep Roads? Be left, abandoned and alone, with the void of his absence but full of the richness of our shared life together?

She was again struck with sharp grief, now mourning the future as well as the past. Leliana wanted all those things and more, but instead she was left with only the last one and an all too brief life at that. She continued onward to the Landsmeet, as the countdown to his demise ticked ever closer.

Before she had devoured his introspection with longing. Now she approached his handwriting with dread, knowing it would abruptly cease.

Denerim 9:1, 9:31 Dragon
Loghain is dead. Alistair is King. All distractions between us and the Archdemon have finally been removed.

Anora turned out to be her father's daughter. Before the Landsmeet, I went to her in order to garner support for Alistair (who finally stopped being a prat and started to embrace his lineage and duty. Plus I told him he would look good in a crown.) Anora was desperate to keep her title as Queen, and employed a curious range of tactics. Her disdain of Alistair was palpable and annoyed me to no end as she did not even know him but was content to dismiss him out of hand. She then turned her political machinations on me, switching effortlessly between appealing to my favor with flattery, logic and even anger. When I rebuked her, Anora's last ditch appeal was a surprise.

A place at her side. King of Ferelden.

I was taken aback. For what young boy, noble or peasant, does not dream of being a king? The Couslands would no longer be a dead house of Ferelden, but a new line of royalty for Thedas to respect and fear. I felt my chest puff out a little, seeing in my mind an idealized version of myself sitting upon a throne in gleaming armor and a crown. And at my side …Anora? Not Leliana? The fantasy dissolved quickly at that sobering realization. I would have to marry Anora. Marry another woman.

I admit I had not thought of marrying Leliana at this point, for marriage always seemed like a complacent topic left to happier times with fewer worries. I did not even know if Grey Wardens were permitted to get married and I had no one to ask. Besides, I had nothing to offer Leliana, for my title meant nothing. Alistair was the one with the honor of exception to the Grey Warden rules in order to be king. I was nothing.

Anora's offer had the opposite effect, for it made me even angrier at the situation. Why would I choose to marry her when it meant I could not be with the one I wanted? Or if Leliana were to somehow tolerate my marriage to another, why would she be content to be a secret bedroom dalliance rather than find another who would not treat her like a whore? I rejected Anora quickly and made a final plea for her support, which she thinly pledged.

My instincts were correct, for after dueling Loghain to the death for his actions that nearly left Ferelden defenseless, Anora immediately denounced Alistair. Thankfully our assistance to many of the banns and teryns overruled her vote and Alistair was selected. I nearly laughed when they asked for my endorsement of a candidate and could not favor Alistair fast enough. Anora was banished to the dungeons, rather than the executioner's block, for Alistair was benevolent as his first act as King.

And finally, we are ready. We are to reconvene at Redcliffe as the rally point for our allies, who promised to be ready in a week's time. Soon, this will be over, one way or another.

Another secret, Leliana exhaled slowly. Knowing he wanted to marry her sent a giddy tingle up her spine, but saddened her that he did not feel worthy. After all, Leliana was a peasant's daughter and a (wrongfully) convicted criminal in Orlais, so as a potential spouse she probably ranked far lower than a nobleman Grey Warden Commander-General who saved all of Ferelden.

She found herself wondering if she would have remained to support him. Leliana had no doubt he would have made a superb king. He would not be the first, nor last, king to be trapped in a loveless marriage and indulge in an extramarital affair (or many). To know their moments were stolen, rather than given, would have become a terrible burden over time. But if I had to choose between losing him to the Archdemon and sharing him with Ferelden, I would have accepted Mistress in a heartbeat.

She turned to the last entry, fearful of its implications.

Redcliffe 9:12, 9:31 Dragon
It is strange to think of the end. It has danced before me for so long, that to see it finally before me still feels incomplete somehow.

We march into battle on the morn, to face the darkspawn army heading to Denerim. Our allies stand at the ready. The elves, dwarves, mages and Bannorn finally united after a year on the brink of civil war.

Alistair and I held a meeting with Riordan. We have a dark task ahead. I find myself returning to my anger at Duncan; first because he would not allow me to stay and protect my family, and now because he withheld our true purpose as Grey Wardens. One, or all, of us are going to die tomorrow. Because the Blight demands it. Now I understand why the Legion of the Dead welcomes new recruits by holding their funeral, for against darkspawn only Death is the victor.

Riordan has promised that he shall be the one to strike down the Archdemon, an act that destroys the old god and the Warden both. But my heart knows the task belongs to Alistair and me. We were simply lambs raised for slaughter.

I am trying to be at peace with this information, for it is a burden I have unknowingly shouldered for a year. Every moment of stillness, I feel as though I am looking into the future. I have no fact to substantiate this belief, but I know I am going to die tomorrow.

I keep trying to broach the subject with Leliana, but the words do not come. I do not wish to burden her further. If this is to be my end, I want it on my own terms. My one prayer to the Maker, who I have finally made peace with, is that the last thing I see before the end would be her face. Only her.

Another turn of events was the discovery of Morrigan's true motive. I had always been wary of the witch, knowing she barely tolerated the lot of us so for her to continue at our back required a higher purpose. I had just returned to my room after mine and Alistair's chat with Riordan when I found her standing at my fire. I was profoundly irritated, for I wanted to spend my last night of eternity wrapped in my sweet bard's embrace.

She offered me a way out, for a price. All I had to do was take her to my bed. A child conceived from our union would spare a Warden's life, but give her a powerful tool no longer tainted by the darkspawn. To my shame, I considered her offer. I very much want to live, to see the world beyond the shadow cast by the Blight, to walk a path unburdened by hardship, and to spend what remained of my short lifetime at my bard's side. Even to see the Calling, where I'm told I will become a slave to the taint and only soothed by death, would be a blessing.

No.

To bed Morrigan would be a betrayal. To Leliana. To myself. To what I have attempted to stand for since I was thrust upon this task. Morrigan offered that Alistair could also fulfill her ritual, but I knew how deeply he despised the witch. For her to conceive a child who was an old god as well as a royal heir bordered on absurd.

I will not hand over such power to a woman who cares for nothing and no one in this world. To someone who considers mercy, friendship, love... as weaknesses. At least the darkspawn have an excuse for why they are what they are. This child... could become an even greater abomination and be wrapped in the flesh of men. It is a price too steep with too many unknowns.

I chose to keep this conversation from Alistair, knowing he would want one of us to live in spite of the cost. And Leliana… I could never face her again, so I may as well die. But I would rather die doing what is right.

I took the easy way out my entire life. I wasted my youth whoring and brawling and when the time came to shield my family from harm, I failed. I promised on the ashes of my home that I would do what is right and just.

I will stand and tilt but never withdraw.

I am a Grey Warden: in peace, in war, in death.

He… he could have lived. He would still be alive, but chose to die. It was a revelation Leliana chewed over for a long moment, returning to her anger and longing.

He chose to give up. No, that is unfair... He cared for me too deeply to betray me. If he had asked, would I have permitted it? Would I be grateful to send him away to return with her scent, knowing she had lain with him in my rightful place? Would he have dreamt of her, always wondering if he made the right choice to remain with me? She would have born his child, I do not even know if I am able to bear children. Maybe he wouldn't have told me, or asked, and simply continued to live as though nothing unusual happened.

Leliana sighed, sloppily batting tears away with her palm. He insisted on being so damn noble all the time and refused to be selfish, even if it meant saving his own life. She couldn't tell if it was what he wanted, or just what he thought he was supposed to do. Which would be worse?

All I know is: I am left behind to pick up the pieces.

Loose pages remained, containing detailed lists of instructions he had set to get his affairs in order, mostly addressed to Alistair. Leliana sifted through the missives with interest, but was saddened at how necessary these precautions proved to be.

A document the Warden had sealed and noted by a herald spelled out how to distribute what remained of his possessions and coin.

I, Warden-Commander Cousland, being of sound body and mind, hereby declare the following as my last will and testament.

I appoint my brother, Fergus Cousland, to carry out the wishes herein. But in the absence of my brother, do bestow King Alistair Theirin as executor of what remains of my estate.

Highever shall receive a new teryn should my brother be found deceased or otherwise unable to rule, to be decided by King Alistair Theirin.

My parents, sister-in-law, nephew and all deceased citizens of Highever under Arl Rendon Howe are to be pardoned from any alleged crimes and receive proper burial.

My shield shall be returned to Highever to my father's resting place.

To Bann Loren in memory of Landra and Dairren: 100 sovereigns.

To Bella, via her new tavern in Denerim: a monthly investment of 5 sovereigns.

To Kaitlyn, Denerim: the Green Blade returned to her, with gratitude for its service in slaying the forces of evil.

To Dagna, via Circle Tower: the Cousland's library so that she may expand her studies.

To Shianni, via the Alienage: a writ of nobility granting her a seat with King Alistair Theirin's council of advisors.

To Keeper Lanaya: all elven artifacts recovered and stored at Soldier's Peak.

To Amethyne, Iona's daughter in the Denerim Alienage: a monthly stipend of 10 sovereigns for her and her family as long as she lives and a special writ requesting the girl be trained at the Palace as a lady-in-waiting.

And I ask Leliana to one day forgive me, for keeping secret these facets of my life she, above all, deserved to know.

And there it was. The Warden had given her his journal, exposed all his selfishness, weakness, pride, rage, revenge and despair. He hid things in writing he never spoke aloud because he felt bound by duty, stupid nobility, or just some perverse sense of honor. And he had marched on to death fearing she wouldn't understand, choosing instead to leave her behind to reconcile the man he presented himself as with the man he was.

Leliana found herself seething. Coward! I deserved these conversations in person! To make rational decisions based on the truth. I deserved the chance to fight about this, argue about this, and be given the opportunity to walk away.

But I can't walk away. The realization sobered her as she clasped her hand to her mouth and huffily exhaled through her nose. Even at the beginning, Leliana had been in too deep to just walk away. It would be easier, certainly. Her soul would not be writhing in agony at the loss, but it would be all the worse to feel regret or nothing at all.

At least I said my goodbyes. She found herself back at the gates of Denerim, waiting for orders on how to proceed. The other Grey Warden, Riordan, had run off to lead some of Eamon's men in search of the darkspawn generals. Her Warden was barking orders, dividing up their forces to simultaneously stay back to defend the front lines and venture onward to track down the Archdemon. Each of their companions were clasping hands and saying goodbyes to him and each other. Praises of the other's fortitude, strength, wit, honor and skill flowed freely while trying to avoid admitting the impossible task before them.

But they had specialized in the impossible for a year now, so there was reason to hope.

She was the last to see him. The Warden had stood out on the ruins of the gates, his thoughtful gaze swept across the battlefield. His gaze had softened as it swung back to meet hers, though his already dirty face was impassive. They savored the magnitude of the moment for awhile and it was Leliana who had spoken first.

"So this is it? This is the end? We've come so far. It's strange knowing that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours." She had scanned the city as he had before continuing, "We stand on the precipice before the greatest battle of our age... I wonder if the heroes of old ever felt like this." A smile twitched on the corner of his mouth as he softly asked, "Are you scared?"

"I am not afraid," Leliana remembered saying confidently. And it was true, she wasn't. "We go to fight for a good cause and there is nowhere I would rather be." The Warden gave a terse nod, serving as both agreement and a salute of respect. Her voice grew fainter, but still retained her confidence.

"You are my dearest friend. And my love. You lit my path through darkness and I will stand with you, to whatever end. This day, we will forge a legend of our own." He raised his shield triumphantly, rallying her, Alistair and Wynne to his side with a mighty "For the Grey Wardens! For Ferelden!" His shout echoed all over the battlements as they marched towards the heart of the city to beat back the darkspawn once and for all.

Leliana had not joined the cry, for she rallied behind a different hope... a hope she now locked away, to carry with her on a journey now made alone.

"Win this war for us, my Grey Warden. And... come home."

Ren's Note:

I do actually kind of like Anora, but for the sake of this piece I skewed her to be more of a shameless harpy desperate to stay Queen, hence why it's her idea for the Warden to be King rather than his. Cousland/Anora always intrigued me and is something I'd probably enjoy exploring, along with a Mahariel/Alistair AU that suddenly sprang into my brain. Oh Bioware, you little plot bunny-inspiring hussy.

Anyway, this is (technically) the end.. since everything after starts over at the beginning. Hope you enjoyed it! And thanks to everyone who was intrigued enough to follow updates and leave reviews! I greatly appreciate your kindness and helpful suggestions so I can avoid looking like a dink falling into rookie mistakes. I'm all about the learning.

Will she see her Warden again like the (unhardened) ending promises in the game? Check out my epilogue/sequel, DA:Unforgotten, where I dole out more soppy angst.