A/N: And so we come to the final chapter! This chapter takes place after another rather hefty time jump. I debated with myself about whether or not I should try to come up with more chapters to fill in some of the blank years in between, but eventually I decided not to for a couple of reasons. One, I don't want to stretch this story out too far past its welcome, and two, I have a feeling BioWare is going to feature some Warden-related plots in future games, so anything major I might come up with would just end up being contradicted. Still, that doesn't rule out future Nathaniel/Velanna one-shots, if ideas strike me. I've really enjoyed writing these two.
Many many thanks to everyone who read/reviewed/faved along the way! I appreciate all the feedback tremendously.
The scar was an ugly thing, stretching red and raw across Nathaniel's abdomen, the sheer length of it overshadowing all the other marks along his chest and shoulders. To Velanna's eye, it seemed as though the bedroom window's morning light lingered on it as he dressed, highlighting in grim detail just how narrowly he had escaped death's clutches. The movement of the muscles beneath it made it coil and almost slither, like one of the poisonous jasper-colored forest snakes the clan elders had warned her about as a child.
She pushed herself up on her side, leaning on one elbow and pulling the sheet up around her waist. For years, it had been her habit to rise well before either the sun or Nathaniel woke, and take her morning meal outdoors in a little glade where she could be assured of absolute solitude, peace and quiet. But as of late, it had become harder to force herself awake in pre-dawn blackness, and she had begun to find herself lingering longer and longer in the warm nest of pillows, blankets, and tangled limbs. Nathaniel had made no comment on the sudden change, but he seemed to enjoy waking up to her rather than to her side of the bed, empty and neatly made.
And most mornings, she rather liked lying abed and watching him dress. Most mornings, when her thoughts weren't troubled and her eyes not drawn to the scar like a moth to flame.
Nathaniel had stopped in the middle of the room, his trousers buckled and his chest still bare, a frown on his face. "Velanna, have you seen my dark green shirt?"
She waved a hand at the dresser behind him. "It's in the second drawer, with all your other shirts."
His frown deepened. "No, it isn't. I already looked."
"You're going blind in your old age, then." She tried to smirk at him, but the unease still hovered at the back of her mind, and she had a feeling the expression came out as more of a grimace instead. Throwing back the sheet, she clambered out of bed and rummaged in the drawer, pulling out the shirt after a moment's search.
"Here." She stepped forward to hand it to him. Almost of its own accord, her hand lingered over his scar, fingers reaching down to gently trace its path.
Nathaniel stilled, his eyes moving back and forth between her hand and her face. "What is it?"
"I was just remembering when you got this," she said. Even years later, the knit-together flesh was still rough under her fingers. "You nearly died and I wasn't here."
His hair, still unbraided, swung around his face as he tilted his head. "That didn't happen."
"But it could have. Any day could be our last, especially…" She didn't finish. The Calling would be on them soon, she knew. Nathaniel would hear it first, since he'd taken his Joining just prior to hers, but she would follow not far behind. Even now, she sometimes felt dark whispers curl in her wandering mind after she dropped into sleep.
Nathaniel's hand closed around hers, lifting it away from the scar, and he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hand to pull the shirt over his head. "Many Wardens die long before they ever reach their Calling. We've been some of the lucky ones, you and I."
"I know, but I've been thinking," she said, and something in her voice made him pause, brows furrowing as he watched her.
"Do you ever think about what will come after all this?" she continued, gesturing at nothing in particular. "After we die, whether that be today or tomorrow or years from now? My people believe that the dead pass into the great beyond to live on forever, while you believe that those faithful to your religion spend eternity at your Maker's side." She looked away, chewing on her lower lip. "As the Calling draws nearer for both of us, I think of the afterlife more and more. I long to see my sister again, and my parents, and even Ilshae. But…" Her eyes darted to his, bearing the expression of mingled resignation and grudging affection that crossed her face whenever she was about to say something sweet. "I would miss you, if I had to spend eternity without you."
Nathaniel said nothing, merely studied her face for a moment before he reached out to pull her into his arms. Velanna allowed herself to be drawn in, pressing her cheek to his tunic and letting out a sigh. It wasn't all that long ago that she'd hated the feeling of being held, finding the weight of another's arms around her confining and smothering. Yet over the years she had slowly come to realize it was not always an insult to her pride to accept another's support.
"I probably won't even go to the Maker's side," Nathaniel said after a moment, his chest vibrating beneath her. His fingers combed absently through her unbound hair. "It's said that only the most devout may spend eternity with Him. I believe in the Maker, but—well, you know I have little time or inclination to attend all the sermons, say all the prayers, or give all the offerings. I suppose that means I'll be sent to wander the Fade forever."
She pulled back enough to look up at him, frowning. "That is hardly a comforting thought."
"Indeed." A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "However, if you would like to wander with me, there's still time for you to convert to worship of the Maker."
The look she shot him might have been scathing enough to stop a charging ogre in its tracks, and he chuckled before sobering. "But in all honesty, I have lived my life as best I could in the circumstances I was given. I went down many paths I would not have chosen, but I did what I could to make the best of them. Death will be just another of those paths."
He looked down at her, his expression thoughtful. "And one thing I do know is that whatever time I have left, I don't want to spend it worrying about what may be."
Velanna snorted. "You make it sound so simple."
"If you ever need help taking your mind off it, I'm sure I can find methods to distract you." He slanted a smile at her. "And besides, you shouldn't worry about spending eternity without me. I can be quite stealthy when I choose—I might just find a way into your great beyond whether I'm supposed to be there or not."
"Blasphemer," she shot back at him, but she couldn't suppress the smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
Nathaniel's nightmares began several months later.
He jerked awake the first night, panting and sweating, the movement so sharp and sudden that for a moment Velanna's sleep-hazed mind wondered if they were being attacked.
She pushed herself half-upright, her heart crashing against her ribs, eyes straining to adjust in the dark. She felt sick and shaken, jolted from a deep sleep, and the walls of her throat seemed to stick together. "Nathaniel?" she managed, squinting at the curved outline of his back hunching in front of her.
"Light the torch," he ground out. His voice was hoarse and unsteady.
As soon as the lamp was lit and she caught sight of his face, she knew.
She sank back down on the bed, nerveless hands falling in her lap. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally Nathaniel scrubbed a hand over his face, gaunt in the dim light. "I'll have to send a message to the Commander, I suppose," he said. "And—and one to Delilah. No specifics, but she deserves to know I'm…gone."
"Add my name to the letter you send to the Commander," Velanna said, her voice quiet.
Nathaniel turned to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot, circled by dark shadows. "Velanna, are you…are you absolutely certain? You could have another month, perhaps two."
She scowled at him. "A month or two of borrowed time, spending every night tossing and turning alone and wondering when my nightmares will come? No. If you think I'm letting you charge off into the Deep Roads without me, you're a bigger fool than I ever imagined."
He gave a wan smile and gripped her hand, squeezing it tightly, and she could see the relief in his eyes.
The Deep Roads were much the same as they had always been, yet somehow different all at once. The dusty tunnels and paths stretched and twisted as they had for centuries, but the knowledge that one would never again look up and see sky seemed to make the darkness close in, pressing on all sides.
Nathaniel paused at the entrance to a tunnel, wiping his sleeve across his forehead. They had been wandering for days—at least, he supposed it must have been days, though time quickly lost its relevance when the sun and moon no longer governed their waking and sleeping. He had long since lost count of the number of darkspawn they had felled since their descent into the deep, side by side.
Velanna stood just ahead, silhouetted against a meager shaft of pale light that had managed to penetrate through a crack in the stone and soil above their heads. She was staring upward, as though trying to imagine how many people might be walking above them at that very moment, going about their business, never knowing of the two Grey Wardens carrying out one final mission beneath their feet.
He watched his wife, letting his gaze slowly sweep her from head to toe. Her slender form had grown tough and wiry with the passing of time, the proud tension never leaving her—even now, despite the heaviness of exhaustion stealing over her, the dirt caking her, and the matted tangles in her hair.
All at once, he couldn't help but wonder about the many Wardens who had embarked on their Callings alone, with no one to fight alongside them in battle, no one to help them chase off the inevitable stabs of fear and loneliness. He wondered if any of them had gone mad from the taint and the darkness before the darkspawn had taken them.
Velanna turned toward him, a hand coming to rest on her hip. "Why are you just standing there?"
He looked to her face, familiar to him as his own. He took in her furrowed brows, her sharp eyes and sharper cheekbones, gaunt now with age, hunger, and a lifetime of combat.
"I love you," he said. He had spoken the words too rarely over the years, preferring to let his actions communicate louder than his tongue. But now the time for words and deeds alike was growing shorter with every passing second.
Emotion flickered across her face, brief but intense, and she went to him and took his hand.
"Come on," she said, her touch cool against the warmth of his palm. "We're not dead yet."
Hours passed. They sustained themselves with small mouthfuls of water from their skins, somehow finding fresh bursts of energy when they came across small bands of darkspawn. His bow sang in tune with her staff, genlocks and hurlocks and shrieks falling before their arrows and spells.
Eventually they found themselves in a medium-sized room, lined on one side with hulking statues of dwarven figures. Velanna leaned her staff against a stony knee, reaching up to wipe blood from her face.
Nathaniel had barely finished scanning the room when the taint surged in his blood, and the faint clanging of armored footsteps reached his ears, echoing up through the connecting tunnel.
Velanna's bony fingers grasped at his sleeve. "Listen."
She had heard it as well: even at a distance, it was clear the sounds were of a sizable horde marching toward them, a force far too large for two tired, tainted Grey Wardens to harbor any hope of survival.
Mingled resignation and relief swept through him in a dull ache, and he met her eyes. "I think this is it."
For a moment, her expression mirrored his, defiance and acceptance warring in her gaze. Then both gave way to resolve as she turned, her hands blurring in the dim illumination as she reached into her tattered bag. Nathaniel glimpsed the dull glint of light on metal.
She grasped his hand and pressed the dagger into it, curling his fingers around the cool leather hilt. "Then we have little time."
He stared down at the slender blade, the bitter weight of finality suddenly crushing the air from his lungs. "Velanna—"
His voice was so thick that he hardly recognized it, and she silenced him with a hand on his cheek, stubble bristling under her fingers. "We talked about this," she said, her voice hushed but firm.
Nathaniel closed his eyes, and images of bulbous, writhing broodmothers leaped to his mind. Bile rose in his throat, and a cold sweat broke out beneath his collar.
"Velanna," he tried again, this time in a hoarse whisper, yet still no further words came. His mind balked at the unyielding necessity set before him, grasping and scrabbling for any hint of an alternative.
He felt her arms wind around his shoulders, her fingers reaching up to the back of his head and pulling him down until his forehead met hers.
"Ma'arlath," she whispered. "I will look for you in the beyond…just in case." She pulled back a fraction, looking up into his eyes, and a ghost of her usual sardonic smile crossed her face. "Don't leave me waiting too long, human."
"I won't." He swallowed thickly, trying to say more, but the words caught in his throat. His eyes were damp. One of Velanna's hands slid around to his cheek, the other twining in his hair.
Then he was kissing her, long and raw and deep, trying in one moment to make up for all the Joining's stolen years. When she pulled back at last, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes glittered like veins of lyrium.
Her hands slipped to his shoulders, and she let out a long breath, meeting his eyes and giving a tiny nod.
She made no sound but a small gasp when the blade entered her heart, her body jerking in his arms, fingers digging into his shoulders. Nathaniel watched her face spasm, then relax, the muscles slackening. She gave a little sigh, and her eyes locked on his in one final, fleeting moment of bright clarity.
He lowered himself to his knees and let her slip down in his arms, gathering her against his chest and pressing his face into her hair.
He still knelt there, cradling her body when the darkspawn snarls grew louder, footsteps clanking up the tunnel and beginning to fill the room behind him. He gently lowered Velanna to the ground, one hand supporting her head, and he reached out with the other to brush her eyes closed.
Then he rose, taking up his bow and reaching back into his quiver as he turned to face the darkspawn. He drew back the string, aimed into the massing horde, and let the arrow fly.