A/N: Thanks to the few who were kind enough to leave a review for the last chapter. They meant a lot to me. I appreciate all the support this story has gotten now that we're so very close to the end.

War of the Laurels

By Spectre4hire

Ch. 64: Denerim V

Edmund:

"We need to cross the river!"

They had seen the archdemon wounded and hurtling through the sky before it crashed onto the highest tower at Fort Drakon. Edmund and his forces had been near the Market District when they saw it. They made their way carefully through the city, following bands of darkspawn at a distance while cutting down other packs that got too close. The darkspawn were distracted, but still deadly.

The bridge his brother had pointed to was deserted where they neared it.

"Warden?"

Warden Clarel shook her head at his unasked question. There was no sign or sense of nearing darkspawn.

The Drakon River rushed below it in churning waters, but looking down he saw fragments of wood, rubble and bloated corpses floating and drifting together. The bodies bobbed up and down like tops, while their swollen faces were looking up at him in silent accusation. He shivered and turned away.

"You shouldn't cross first," Fergus put a hand up to stop him. "Just in case."

Edmund frowned, brushing aside his brother's warning and his hand. "I can't let others take the risks."

"Yes, you can," Fergus argued, his face was mottled with sweat. "That's what being a king means." He gave him a pointed look.

They stared for a long beat in stony and stubborn silence before Edmund blinked first, relenting with a sigh and a slow dip of his head. He tried not to think about the bodies floating below them.

Fergus gave the orders. He directed some of their forces to continue to cross the bridge and to secure the other side. It was a diverse group including human soldiers and dwarf warriors and elves all moving as one.

It was not the first time he noticed this. It was an observation that he had clung to throughout this perilous battle. Let this be a new Ferelden. That's what he and Anora wanted to build. This battle was the foundation of that dream. Atop the blood and the mud and the ashes, this new and better Ferelden would rise.

Revas had led the first group over. He had asked if he and his men and women could fight with Edmund, and he obliged them. The Fangs of Ferelden were carving their places into history while reshaping their future. It made him proud to be there when it happened. Another glimpse of a promising future for all of us.

It was Revas who gave the all clear signal after they checked the surroundings and secured the immediate area. Still not satisfied, Clarel sent two Orlesian Wardens to go next with another round of their forces. They crossed and reported the same all clear.

"You should go next," Uncle Leonas stepped forward, looking at Edmund and Fergus. "I'll keep the rest to guard our rear." He held up his gauntleted hand before they continued. "We'll cross once you've over."

The sounds of battle could still be heard during their pause in combat. A reminder of the fighting that was happening all around them despite this unexpected reprieve.

It can all change in a blink. He made his way across the bridge.

They were sore and tired, panting for breath, but Edmund knew none of them would quit or flee or hide. These men and women would fight to the last with him. I couldn't be more prouder or more thankful. He could hear Fergus' haggard breathing. His brother was walking beside him. Ser Cauthrien was behind them while Warden Clarel was in front of them.

"I'm not carrying you to the fort so you can stop pretending."

Fergus chuckled. "Can't blame a brother for trying." The wince was real.

Edmund didn't comment on it. He couldn't. Neither did he want to reflect on his own bruises and aches.

"Warden Clarel!" One of the Orlesian Wardens was calling to her.

"I know!" She shouted back, stiffening where she stood.

"Darkspawn?" Edmund couldn't see any, squinting at their backs.

"They're close," Clarel frowned, "Very close."

"Where?" Fergus demanded, tensed and frustrated.

The answer came to them from behind. In a booming roar with a loud SPLASH the bridge ruptured. The stone collapsed into the river. Their side remained standing, but the otherside was gone, stranding Uncle Leonas and the others. Rising out of the water were those responsible for the destroyed bridge. It was two ogres, massive monsters with water dribbling down their muscled bodies.

"Get back, Your Majesty," Clarel was already using her staff to summon bolts of energy. Shooting it towards the ogres as they tried to pull themselves on their side of the ruined bridge.

Edmund didn't listen. Starfang shone in the light when he charged the nearest one, ignoring the shouts. The ogre had nearly pulled itself up, swatting its large hand towards him which he deftly avoided. Starfang cut through bone and muscle without stopping, severing the limb with ease. The flame rune of his sword singed the cut to prevent it from leaking its poisonous blood. The ogre whailed at its missing hand, losing its balance as it lost its grip on the bridge. Edmund lashed forward with an easy slash that ripped across the ogre's face from where its horns rose at the base of its skull down to its chin in a horizontal cut that sent the ogre flailing backwards into the Drakon River with a large splash. The ogre didn't resurface.

The other was dealt with the combination of magic and arrows.

"What about the others?" Edmund asked, ignoring Clarel's frown for not listening to her.

"They'll have to find another way to cross," She had turned her frown towards Fort Drakon. "We need to press forward."

He wanted to argue, but he knew he needed to trust her on this. "Very well," he said, "Give the orders to them," he told one of his soldiers, who obeyed with a nod. He prayed that they understood and he prayed they'd survive, but that was all he could do for them in that moment. They left for Fort Drakon.

King Edmund Cousland had a war to win.

"HOLD!"

The cry went up when Edmund and his forces passed through what was left of the walls of Fort Drakon to reach its base.

"Your Majesty!" A cry went up and several tired soldiers raised their voices in greeting.

He met their enthusiasm with a raised fist. They were worn and tired, bruised and bloodied, but they still bent their heads to him as he passed, dozens of them looking renewed by his presence. It was humbling and a mite uncomfortable, but he understood what being a King meant. He greeted them as best he could as he passed.

It brought him back to his first major battle in the civil war. All those months ago at Eastern Crossing, meeting the men and women who'd fight and die for him and Oren. He spoke to them before the battle and had sought as many as he could in the aftermath. Many had died, others were scarred and maimed in the battle for their loyalty to him and his family. It was not to be taken lightly. Not then and certainly not now.

"Your Majesty," Bann Teagan approached, bowing his head. "It is good to see you are well."

"Thank you," Edmund replied, "You as well." He looked on while some of the soldiers went about their duties after pausing to see and speak to him. He had not been expecting a lull in battle especially not here and nor with the archdemon presumably still alive and struggling above them. His confusion must've seemed plain on his face to Teagan.

"We just cleared the darkspawn in this area," he explained, "We're expecting another big push once they regroup."

"It will only get worse from here on out, Your Majesty," A hobbled Warden approached, it was Ser Blackwall. His arm looked mangled and he bore a nasty scar from under his right eye down to his chin. "This will be the last rest we get until the archdemon is slain or we are."

"My people have set up some barricades to stymy the darkspawn approach," A woman clad in armor stepped forward, "Dwarven ingenuity will always triumph over darkspawn savagery."

"Queen Valda," Edmund inclined his head to the Queen of Orzammar, "Your arrival and forces is much appreciated." He wouldn't forget the relief her army had brought to the city. It had been a vital reprieve to him and so many, and one he didn't take for granted knowing it was coming at the cost of many dwarven lives. "It is an honor to finally meet you, Your Majesty."

"You as well, Your Majesty," She mirrored his head nod, "Let this be the start of a new beginning between our people."

"My wife and I would welcome that," he meant it. Looking over her he saw the groups of dwarven soldiers, some of whom were still mounted on brontos, but it wasn't the scaled creatures that kept his attention, but the towering golems who milled about restlessly. He counted more than a dozen of them, and they made for an inspiring and intimidating sight.

After passing on a few more cordial words he moved on wanting to be informed of everything they were about to expect and their situation.

"Some of the Wardens have gone up," Blackwall limped as he followed them, a worried Clarel was on his other side, using her magic to try to heal her fellow Warden. "Commander Fontaine led them, Wardens Solona and Alistair were with her."

"Then it's simply us giving them the time needed to succeed," He said, knowing that it would be anything but simple.

"Indeed, Your Majesty," Blackwall agreed, "The archdemon's wings were ripped by a few barista bolts, grounding it. This may be our only chance to stop this Blight before-" He stopped himself as if realizing how grim he was sounding,

"Before they overwhelm Ferelden," Edmund finished for him, aware of what was at stake. Aware of his Queen and wife in Amaranthine, of his nephew with her, and the countless other refugees. Those who had already lost their homes and families who were now waiting and worrying behind those walls. No more, he vowed, this was their end.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Blackwall was solemn, and grimaced from a bruise that Clarel was trying to tend to.

"Then we must give them all the time they need," He turned to see the survivors who had put themselves behind the crumbling walls and gate of Fort Drakon to defend its entrance. "We will hold the line and I can think of no finer men and women to fight beside," he told them. "This is where we will hold them, and this is where we will kill them. No more will the darkspawn take from us. This will be their end," He squinted up against the sunlight to the tower that loomed over all of them. He saw nothing at this distance, but he trusted the Wardens who went up there. They would do their task and we must do ours.

"Have we secured the fort?" The last thing they needed was darkspawn to slip in behind them to either overwhelm them or the Wardens fighting above.

"We have, your Majesty," Arl Eamon stepped forward, bowing his head in what looked more out of decorum than desire. "We sent additional forces too from our allies armies, what little we could spare to help them."

"Thank you, Arl Eamon," He ignored the swirling thoughts and feelings at seeing the Arl of Redcliffe in front of him. "Your forces are appreciated."

"We serve Ferelden, Your Majesty," He replied politely.

Edmund turned away after giving him a nod, "Can we do anything about our defenses?"

"We can," Keeper Merathari and scores of Dalish Elves who had been tucked to the side made their presence known. Her staff was glowing before pointing it forward. The other Keepers and firsts mirrored her movement and the ground shook beneath them.

The earth was moving.

The ground rising like waves in the sea, cresting more than eight feet up before stopping. The earthwork walls rose all around them. Broken wagons and other wooden barricades twitched and floated to the newly made walls, shearing and sharpening themselves into wooden spikes. They stuck into the ground and wall like teeth, ready to impale the charging darkspawn.

The other Circle mages had stepped forward. Their staffs raised and began their own incantations of wards and glyphs into the ground. The stoic templars watched without commentary. Their armor clanging as they moved to spread themselves into position to both defend their positions as well as their charges.

"Archers," A voice called up, as several men and women began peeling away from the group to take up positions on some of the newly made risen earth mounds that were surrounded by the magical protections.

"Alfstanna?" he recognized the voice of his friend, relief flooding through him at seeing that she was alive.

"Your Majesty," she stopped when she neared him and bowed, and at her side was Nathaniel.

"Nate," He smiled, pleased at the sight of more familiar faces. It faded at seeing his friend's pallor and how he limped, "You can-"

"Fight," Nathaniel finished for him before wincing, "Gladly, Your Majesty." He leaned a bit on Lady Alfstanna.

"Aye," Edmund didn't try to argue with his friend. "I'd feel better knowing I'd have your eyes on me."

"I'll make sure not to pass that on to the Queen," He joked.

Edmund chuckled, "You're a good friend, Nate." He watched Alfstanna direct their archers while others carried quivers to stockpile them for the fighting ahead.

"Golems," Valda was directing her soldiers, making a wall of steel and stone with the impressive golems standing behind the earthworks and barricades.

"Your Majesty," A voice made him turn away from watching the dwarves prepare, "Where would you like us to fight?"

"Captain Kylon," Edmund was beginning to realize that this area was filled with friendly faces. It was a pleasing observation and one he was grateful for at knowing so many were still alive. He tried not to dwell at those he hadn't seen or the pressing fear that they were still in plenty of danger. Beside the new Captain of the City Guard was a fierce looking elf in armor bearing a finely pressed wolf along her chest leathers. She glared at him before tipping her head, a slight fraction.

"Wherever you believe you can best serve, Captain."

Kylon nodded, bowing, as he led the elf and an assortment of other armed elves and city guard survivors into position. Dalish, dwarves, mages, templars all were moving and working together to prepare for the fight and to protect each other for the battle to come.

"Incredible," Fergus breathed, his brother saying what he was just thinking about their surviving forces. "Straight out of the stories, brother," He turned away from Fereldan Banns who were shoulder to shoulder with armed elves, "We even have a king to lead us," He flashed him a small smile.

Those stories were already written, he thought with a pang of envy, while uncertainty clung over them. The ink on our pages hasn't dried.

"Edmund, Fergus!" Uncle Leonas moved to meet them. "I had heard you were here," he hugged them both, "Praise the Maker!" He looked tired and his armor looked grimy and nicked from fresh fighting. "I feared after we separated-"

"I as well, Uncle," Edmund clapped him on the shoulder, "It's good to see you are with us."

"At your side, my king," He said, "Until the end, Your Majesty." He stood straighter.

"It's a good side to be on," observed an accented voice, Zevran swaggered into view with the dwarf Oghren, and the tall qunari Sten.

"Zevran," He was surprised to see the Antivan elf, "what about-"

"Some of us were left behind to help with the defenses."

"Solona chose well," He and Zevran had gotten along swimmingly when he met him all those months ago, appreciating his warm wit while also respecting his incredible talent and skill as a fighter. He wouldn't forget the elf's delightful surprise when he found out Edmund spoke Antivan nor when Zevran compared his accent to that of a pig farmer. He remembered Orianna saying something similar when she was teaching him. The memories made him smile while the rest of his body ached.

"Was that ever in doubt?" Zevran flashed him a smile, "You shall have my blades, Your Majesty," He made his declaration with a flourish. His daggers spinning in an artful display of the elf's immense talent.

A horn went up somewhere out of sight. Its long mournful note cut through the air like a sword through flesh.

"A dwarven horn," Queen Valda explained, "The darkspawn are coming."

"This will be their final push," Blackwall warned.

Edmund nodded. "So this will be our final stand."

It was everywhere he looked.

In the time it took him to dispel a breath he scanned the battlefield, impressed and rejuvenated at what was happening all around him.

Nathaniel and Alfstanna with a score of archers volleyed a charging row of genlocks, stopping and shredding the darkspawn.

Dalish mages were protecting Fereldan soldiers from hurlock arrows.

Fergus and Cauthrien were fighting together to take down a hurlock alpha.

Wardens Blackwall, and Theron were forming the tip of a charge through the darkspawn ranks.

Kylon leading the elves and city guards to surround and slay an ogre who had been caught in a glyph.

Teagan and Eamon and Uncle Leonas were cutting a swath through genlock grunts who were trying to regroup.

Golems were pummeling a group of hurlocks while Revas and his elves slipped through with their swords and daggers, slicing and cutting through the weakened darkspawn.

Mounted dwarves led their brontos into hurlocks, impaling and stomping through them all with ease.

Zevran, Oghren, and Sten were rallying Redcliffe knights into chasing and killing darkspawn who were trying to slip past the fort's ruined steps to enter the tower.

A darkspawn emissary was blasted by a circle mage when it tried to raise its staff towards Dalish soldiers. A pair of templars cut it to pieces and then moved to give assistance to a small group of legion of the Dead dwarves who were putting down a pair of genlock emissaries.

The wooden spikes that had stopped many were being plucked from the earth by Circle Mages and magically launched at an ogre who had tried to break free from its containment. The spikes peppered the darkspawn mercilessly, black blood frothed from its lips before the ogre fell dead.

"SHRIEK!" a warning rang through the ranks.

The word was a lightning bolt to Edmund stopping his heartbeat of observation. His head turned to try to spot the elusive, but deadly darkspawn. An angry hiss alerted him, but his eyes failed to see anything, except the Fereldan soldier dying in front of him. Starfang was raised, but useless since he saw nothing, until the air seemed to open up around him to reveal the lithe, ugly creature.

Starfang was out of position when the shriek brought down its long jagged blade that was attached to its forearms. He braced for the impact, for the cruel blade to cut into his armor, but he felt nothing. For an agonizing second he thought he was dead, a quick, painless death by the shriek, before he heard the thump and scrape. The shriek's jagged blade hit his arm, but he felt nothing.

That was when he noticed the magical aura that coalesced around him. A barrier of energy had been summoned to cocoon around him. It moved and shifted, reacted and adjusted to any attack, absorbing it before it could actually reach or damage him.

The shriek hissed in anger at being thwarted. That second of frustration was all Edmund needed to recover from his own surprise and to plunge Starfang into the shriek's chest. The runes of his sword singed and shocked the writhing darkspawn as it crumbled backwards, dead when it hit the ground.

More shrieks appeared, wafting out of thin air and were swirling and slashing around him. Trying to kill him, as if they knew who he was, and his importance. A chilling thought of their cunning and intelligence, but one he couldn't worry about now. He felt his soreness waning while his strength and endurance seemed to be growing. He seemed to be imbued by another bit of magic that made him feel the rushing strength flow through his limbs and muscles. He felt powerful.

With this new magical influence, Edmund met the shrieks with Starfang. When their ambush was foiled by the magical barrier it showed just how vulnerable they were when their stealth and surprise were stolen from them in a fight. They had surrounded him thinking they'd plunge their daggers into him at once, killing him instantly but now their close range made them an easy kill for Starfang who took them out with a long cutting arc, two, three, four were down before the rest could recover. One leapt back on its long, nimble legs, its thin fingers were wrapped around a small vial before it hurled it at him.

The magical barrier held. The acid sizzled in the air, spraying, but falling uselessly onto the ground leaving him untouched. The shriek who tossed it had just enough time to gape at its failure before Starfang wrenched its head from its shoulders. That expression of shock was still etched on its head as it bounced away out of sight.

The others were then themselves ambushed from behind. One fell to an arrow, another to a dalish warrior, and the third fell to Queen Valda. The dwarf queen stepped over her kill, she smiled at him.

"You fight well, Your Majesty."

He returned her smile. "I was going to say the same about you." He looked backwards to see Warden Clarel nod to him. He gave her a brief wave of thanks for her magical support before turning around with a Dalish warrior on one side and a dwarven queen on the next. They were ready for the charging hurlocks.

Starfang left a trail of lightning crackling in its wake when it cut through the first darkspawn. The charge in his runes left the darkspawn twisting in pain from the lightning enchantment. The second cut stopped its twitching as it fell backwards dead. Then it was the bluish hue of fire from Starfang, the runes seemed to have their own mind, scorching a darkspawn's armor and searing its flesh. It was still smoldering when it fell over dead.

Edmund was ready to meet a hurlock's strike when a loud BOOM seemed to shake the city. Then an explosion of light that cut into the sky like a glittering spear. It changed everything. The darkspawn shifted immediately, dropping their attack. They panicked and fled. The savage monsters who had laid waste to Denerim with wanton cruelty now looked at the light with gaping expressions and something akin to fear in their black eyes as many dropped their weapons and fled.

"Kill them!" Queen Valda led her dwarves forward. The bronto mounts pursuing their retreating enemy, cutting them down in droves. The golems followed and more arrows flew, peppering the backs of hundreds of darkspawn.

The archdemon! Edmund realized, exultingly, the archdemon is dead!

"VICTORY!" "WE HAVE VICTORY!"

A cheer went up. Relief and joy intermingled rising higher than any scream or horn as the men and women raised hands in triumph and disbelief that the Battle of Denerim was over. Chanting and crying, embracing and cheering, elves, humans, mages, dwarves, templars, nobles, all of the allies were united, raising their voice as one in a victorious tumult.

Anora:

She had said goodbye to a husband before. He went off to war promising victory and glory. He never returned.

No, she closed her eyes to try to block that thought from going further.

Anora remembered her parting with Edmund. It was a warm memory, one in which she used like a blanket to wrap around herself to protect her from the cold dread that tried to touch her. The fear and uncertainty swirled around her like snow in a snowstorm.

She sighed and made an effort to look down at the vellum piles that had conquered her desk. This is a task I can manage, so she went to work.

The top one had been a dispatch from Fereldan's ambassador to Nevarra. It confirmed their plans that if the worse was to befall Ferelden, she and her people could travel to Nevarra.

A Queen without a country, a people without a home, a wife without a husband…

Anora averted the letter and pushed herself out from her chair to allow her to stand up.

Sarim raised his head from where he was resting on her bed. His head tilted to the side. His eyes held a very human looking concern in them. It made her smile. She sat beside him on the bed. The mabari welcomed her presence with a tentative lick on her cheek. Her hand bumped his head, scratching the area between his ears. Sarim's lazy groan showed his appreciation and the flicker of contentment that flashed over the mabari's features when he closed his eyes was enough for her smile to stay.

"I miss him too, boy," she said the words aloud, hearing them scrape at her heart and mind like long nails. "I'm afraid," she confessed, "I'm so afraid."

Sarim took her confession without judgment. The mabari didn't gloat at her weakness, he simply listened, and hearing her say them seemed to lessen the blow she'd expect them to put upon her. It was strangely freeing in a way. Petting Sarim while speaking of her growing worries and concerns that she wouldn't dare voice to any of her advisers. Now I find my restraint lifting like a portcullis with my words spilling out like an undammed river.

"Thank you, Sarim," she was feeling better, "Thank you." She kissed the mabari on his brow. "We're gonna be strong." She told the mabari who simply stared back. "Edmund is leading the fight in Denerim and I must lead the fight here." Her responsibilities with the refugees and ruling a country plagued by civil unrest and darkspawn was a struggle, but she would persevere through it because her people needed her to. Ferelden will be ready to stand again, she'd make sure of it.

Queen Anora Cousland had a country to rule.

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

"Long live the King and Queen!"

"Maker bless you, Queen Anora!"

Anora smiled and waved at her people who had crowded to see her.

She wanted to see them just as much. Anora oversaw the dispersal of foodstuff and what spare coin they had taken when they left the capital. The people were desperate for both, but calm still ruled the city. She wouldn't allow Amaranthine to fall to anarchy when her husband was making sure Denerim wouldn't fall to darkspawn.

I cannot crack. She had reminded herself. I must withstand this siege. The panic and fear that lashed at her, again and again trying to break her, to undo her. It besieged her as terribly as any army, but Anora wouldn't fall.

While her guards and servants distributed the charity, she was approached by many. Grief stricken, tired, hungry, dirty, she saw it all in her people's eyes and faces. She listened to their pleas and their prayers, and consoled them. She listened to their flattery and praise and thanked them. Anora wanted them to see her, to know she was with them. She remembered earlier failures during the Civil War where she hadn't done enough to reassure her people or worse she went unaware of their struggles.

Sgt Robert Kylon's stark report on the Denerim Alienage had rattled her. In my city, it rankled her, but her anger was as much directed at herself than those slavers. I didn't do enough to protect them. I didn't do anything . She wouldn't refute the claim. Never again, she vowed.

Anora alternated between sitting and letting them approach her on her throne or standing and going through their ranks herself. Her taxed guards preferred the former, but she couldn't disregard the benefits of the latter.

This is my battlefield and I have to win it.

"Andraste bless you, Queen Anora!"

She smiled. "Have you received your supplies?"

"We have, Your Majesty," the woman's eyes were glistening, "Thank you!" She bowed her head before the tears streamed down her cheeks. "Thank you!"

The gratitude could be overwhelming at seeing them come undone. To see the horrors plainly written on their faces or to hear their stories and then to watch an act of kindness loosen all the tension and dread that had swell up inside them come pouring out. Anora put her hand on the woman's shoulder to try to comfort her, aware of the disapproving stare of her guard, but she let it rest, feeling the woman shake beneath her fingers. It took another minute or more before the woman composed herself. Her face was slick with tears while her eyes were red rimmed and shone with wetness. She thanked Anora and Edmund, saying one of her sons and her brother was still fighting. Her husband had been killed in one of the earlier attacks.

Anora wanted to stay and say more or to listen, but the guard politely ushered her away. So many, she looked out at all those still waiting, too many. Each with stories as awful and as sad as the one she had just heard.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes?" She turned to her trusted adviser, Luwin. She ignored the twisting of her belly and the cold sensation that seized her insides. She rallied her wits to prepare herself to hear any news that was trickling from the capital.

"A word?"

She accepted with a nod, excusing herself to allow them a moment of privacy. Victory , she thought, that was a word, and one she'd warmly welcome. Defeat , that word was cold enough to dispel the earlier warmth. Dead , that was strong enough to make her shiver, but she remained outwardly calm so none could see her own turmoil. My people are already drowning it. I must be a beacon to them, not an anchor to sink them completely.

"It is ongoing, still, your Majesty," Luwin's expression was apologetic, "The latest reports have been promising."

Promising? That was a word she'd gladly clasp with both hands. "Truly?"

He knew her enough to sense the slight perk of her shoulders and tone. "Yes, Arl Eamon's forces and Queen Valda's have reached the city," his fingers were tapping the letter he was holding.

"That is good news," She thought it was more than promising, but she didn't say as much.

"It is," he agreed, his tone was just as cautious as what she was projecting. "We've received no-"

"Good," she knew where he was going, but didn't want to hear it. Her mind still finished the thought for him: no reports of your husband's death. "The King is a great soldier." She said instead, not letting her fears grip and twist her thoughts. "How old is this news?" She kept her fingers clasped together in front of her.

"Days, Your Majesty," he answered sympathetically.

She expected as much. The battle could be over, the battle could be won. She turned as if expecting a messenger to appear to deliver such news to them. To inform them of their victory over the darkspawn, but there was no one there. She allowed herself a small smile. That would be how it would come in the stories, she thought, a trace of sadness coming to her heart when she added, Life isn't a story.

"Your Majesty."

It was his tone not his address that got her to look up from her heartbeat of reflection. She looked to see Luwin's eyes were wide while a dubious expression seemed to flicker over him. She turned to see what could elicit such a reaction. When her eyes spotted it, she huffed out a breath.

It was a haggard man. He was being escorted by several guards. Their helms concealed their emotions from her, but they were moving fast. That's what she thought. They pushed their way through to her location. Their presence began to be noticed by more and more of those gathered, sparking a firestorm of whispers and murmuring.

Anora began walking to meet them. Her heart hitched in her chest as the uncertainty of what this could mean tried to tie and drag her senses around, to try to control her. She wouldn't allow them. Her own awareness tuned those fretting feelings from her mind making herself focus on the messenger in front of her and no one else. Not the hundreds of gathered refugees, the dozens of guards, the important advisers and courtiers who were on the fringes of this gathering. In the ensuing seconds, Ferelden had shrunk to the space between her and this messenger, her life had shrunk to it.

"Your Majesty," The messenger fell on his knees when he believed he was close enough to be heard by her.

Yes, rise, other words tumbled over each other into a coherent mess, but she couldn't say any of them. Her mind distracting her with the possibilities to limit herself in addressing the now. The hall in Amaranthine quieted. The banners above them stilled as if sensing the importance of silence.

"The battle is over, Your Majesty," the messenger's words were louder than a scream when said in the backdrop of this still silence. "The archdemon is dead. We've won!"

A great roar rose as one in the hall before washing over everyone with ecstatic energy.

Anora smiled, the only outward show of her relief and own happiness of this wonderful news. The King lives, Your Majesty. It was those words and seeing her nephew's reaction to his Uncle's survival and that of his father that made her turn her head to dispel a breath and try to control the rapturous feelings that were threatening to burst out. When Oren hugged her, she felt the happiness and relief swell inside her.

Today, life was a story, she thought happily, Today life was good.

It was the longest wait of Anora's life.

The trip from Amaranthine to Denerim.

When she received the news of the victory, Anora wanted to have the first horse they could fit, prepped for her so she could leave without delay. That didn't happen. She still needed to steer the ship which proved challenging with raucous celebrations spilling over onto the streets. She couldn't allow them to stall or sink now especially when they were this close. It would be like your ship sinking when the harbor was so close. To allow yourself to get distracted and your ship to run aground because you stopped paying attention.

The next couple days that passed was Anora getting things in order and preparations. Fresh messages were sent to her envoys and allies throughout Thedas spreading their victory. More riders and messengers came from Denerim to bring more details and news about the battle, Anora hosted them all before letting them spread the good stories throughout the city.

In those tales, she heard of the valour of their allies and the sacrifices so many had made to defend Denerim and to protect Ferelden. One of the first to be told to her was Warden Commander Alisse Fontaine who performed her duty as Commander of the Grey Wardens and struck the decisive blow that killed the archdemon atop Fort Drakon. Along with their commander several other Wardens died including Gordon Blackwall and Riordan. The latter had sacrificed himself to allow his Commander the time needed to reach and slay the foul creature.

The Fereldan wardens fared better with Solona and Alistair surviving. The former had been named the Hero of Ferelden for all of her efforts in gathering the allies that Ferelden had desperately needed to stop the Blight. It was well earned, Anora approved, but the Warden was not without losses. One of her companions had fallen, a dwarf who Anora vaguely recalled was named Oghren. He had died in the battle.

He was one of many dwarfs who had perished, coming to the surface to help Ferelden in their darkest hour. Anora would not forget that sacrifice, and was looking forward to meeting the Queen of Orzammar. Anora had heard of the other Queen's journey to the surface to lead her armies, whose strength and skill helped them achieve their great victory.

Those were just some of the names of those who fought and died in the battle, several were banns and knights she was familiar and friendly with, others she knew by reputation. One name had stood above the others on the lists not just because of his title and his importance, but because of his closeness with her husband. It had been his Uncle, Leonas Bryland. One of Edmund's first allies, the Arl of South Reach had proved vital in helping protect his nephews, Edmund and Oren. He would be missed and mourned, Anora only wished she was there to give her comforts in person instead of through her thoughts and letters.

It was on the fourth day since they learned the news of the victory in Denerim when they received an unexpected, but most welcomed messenger, Anora's brother-in-law, Fergus Cousland. She had been pleased to see Fergus was mostly unharmed. She peppered him with questions about her husband which he answered with a patient smile, though some memories would make his face darken and his mouth twist. What he didn't know, Anora got from Ser Cauthrien, who had come with the Teyrn of Highever and had received her own touching reunion with Oren, that appeared to crack the soldier's usual dour countenance.

"Where is my husband?"

Anora arrived in the capital more than a week after receiving the news of Fereldan's victory. There had been duties required of her to help try to keep the country smoothly running during such interesting times where victory had a way of distracting people. The roads between the two cities had to be secured which they finally had been by a combination of their allies including dwarves and dalish patrols.

The Royal Palace was held together by scorched stone, newly erected wooden beams, and canvas cloths. She had given it a brief once over before walking inside, mentally listing what they would need and the order of which to do it to clean and repair the Royal Palace and bring it back to where it should. One of many, she had seen many buildings that weren't as lucky. Shops and homes that were smoldering piles of rubble, crushed debris and burnt stone, ashes and splinters of buildings that were utterly destroyed during the battle.

"He's sleeping, Your Majesty," the servant bowed her head as she answered. "In his temporary quarters," the servant added when she saw that Anora was heading in the wrong direction assuming he would be in the Royal Wing.

"Thank you," she replied, following the servant's pointed finger to see he was occupying the guest chambers. She set off to them at once.

Fergus had generously offered to handle some of her burdens and duties so that she could see Edmund. He didn't need to ask twice. The memory made her lips twitch.

She walked with a pair of guards behind her. She moved as swiftly as she could while still maintaining a respectful decorum as Ferelden's Queen, but her patience was beginning to fray. She made up her mind when they reached the long corridor that would lead directly to her husband's room. "I will go the rest of the way by myself," she informed the guards, turning to face them.

"Your Majesty?"

"Thank you," she would not repeat herself or change her mind.

They had the sense to realize this and took their unorthodox dismissal with the epitome of duty and dignity.

She didn't even wait to see if they were out of sight before she picked up her pace. Anora had to move carefully, bunching part of her dress in her hands so as to not trip over its hem. She felt the pounding of her heart that seemed to spread into her blood, feeling it in her arms and legs as she reached for the door. Anora wasn't breathless when she arrived, but the burst of energy left her a little winded. In a few short beats she regained her breathing and put her hand to the doorknob. Without knocking, she twisted and pulled it open.

"Edmund?" She was already calling his name before she stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room before spotting him. He was in the bed, snoring. She smiled, quietly closing the door behind her. Sarim had already beaten her to the chambers somehow. The mabari was lying in his own bed by the hearth. He raised his head at her arrival, eyes setting on her for a breath before he yawned and went back to sleep.

She wasn't surprised by her husband's state. Anora had been warned of his fatigue due to the fighting and all of the stress not to mention the sores and the aches and other strains he was enduring. She didn't get a clear view of him until she was nearly half way into the room. His head nestled atop a pillow. His brown hair was messy. His face was pale, but he didn't look sickly. She did see bruises and cuts that stood out against his pale skin.

He's alive, she looked him over, he's alive and well. Her heart brimming with happiness like a font threatening to overflow. She felt the smile grow on her lips, fondness filled her at seeing her husband's form once more. The man she loved was right here. He's safe. Giddiness thrilled and thrummed through her. She carefully pulled back the blanket when she was close enough.

He sleepily grumbled and stirred, but the warrior king remained sound asleep.

Without hesitation or consternation she slipped onto the bed and under the blanket to be with him. He reacted to her presence without opening his eyes. His arms snaking around her, he murmured something before bringing her closer to him. She didn't fight it, nestling herself as close to her husband as she could.

They were determined to usher in a Golden Age for Ferelden, but that was later. Right now it's just me and him. S he closed her eyes, still smiling, and it was just perfect.

A/N: Sorry to any who were expecting an archdemon showdown scene, but again this isn't the Warden's story or a novelization of the game. I went back and forth on who was killed in battle, it was a longer bloodier list at one point, but I decided against it. Settling more for a tried and true happier ending.

There will be a brief epilogue set in the not too distant future, but this is still pretty much the end. Hopefully, it wasn't too disappointing.

This is also where I ask that if you enjoyed and liked the story then please don't forget to review. It would mean a lot to me.

Thanks,

Spectre4hire