For those of you who dislike or disagree with the way I've gone with the story (not that anyone has reviewed saying such so far), let me explain a couple things.

If you refuse to make the old god baby with Morrigan but have already slept with her, she will have a child anyway. So what I've done is not too farfetched.

I thought to myself, if she was already pregnant, why would she need to sleep with the Warden on the eve of battle? She always claimed that the child being concieved the night before the battle was crucial. So apparently, if you refuse her, she happens to be pregnant already. If you don't, she isn't.

I thought that was kind of a crock of shit. It's actually where I got the idea for the story.

And for those who'd like to argue that a female Warden can't carry a child, I'm going to reveal a little bit of a spoiler.

Anyone remember Alistair's mother? She wasn't actually a servant, FYI.

She was an elven Grey Warden.

Not only did she carry Alistair successfully, but she did so without a blood magic ritual.

But if you have any other arguments, please do let me know.

So if you're here to hate, flame, troll, etc., read up on the facts first.

If you're not, and you're here because you're a romance nut like me, then I welcome you.

And salute you for admitting it :D

This has been a really incredible journey for me, learning and growing as an author. You guys really helped me with your support, and I was finally able to get off my medications without any problems. I owe you guys so much.

I honestly never expected to get as much notice as I did. I mean, 60 follows? 30 favorites? 40 reviews? Fan art?

It means so much to me that you guys like this story so much, even though this is my first story I've let anyone else read.

With this chapter, this story is done.

But this isn't the end.

I will be writing a sequel, which will be up soon.

And because I'm just a sap like that, it will most likely be a happy ending.

I'm going to continue editing, trying to make it better, and your feedback is really helpful. Now that it's done, I'm thinking I'll actually change the story from present-tense to past-tense as discostu10 suggested. Let me know if you think I should.

Again, thank you guys so much for even taking the time to read this. I hope you'll let me know what you think, no matter what it is.

Elran

As a hunter, Elran has never seen anything like this before.

Part of him is terrified. The most dangerous thing he's hunted is wolves, and now he's shooting down darkspawn beside the Grey Wardens.

Part of him is amazed, and thrilled, and excited to be part of a battle that is sure to be remembered through the ages. His decedents will remember him with pride, and even the humans will be grateful to his people for their aid.

It is a mix of fear and pride that keeps his aim true.

Though he fights for the Wardens, he does not see one until he hears the horn; he is one of the few nearby who answer the call.

Fort Drakon, he learns the place is called, is full of dead darkspawn. Instead, the call has come from the very top.

He and his brothers are joined by a mage, a knight, and a dwarf.

But they are not prepared for what they see.

Across the roof that has become a battlefield, he can clearly see two mages as they attack the biggest creature Elran has ever seen in his life.

A dragon, large with scales of deep purple, breathes fire down on them, and they do not fall. They simply throw fire back at the creature, seemingly uncaring of their surroundings.

As he and his comrades run forwards, he can see other darkspawn in combat with other elves and a dwarf.

But he can tell why they called for the Dalish; fighting a flying dragon is not easy without ranged weaponry.

Elran fires arrow after arrow at the winged creature, but few actually puncture it's flesh, most of them bouncing off of the dragon's tough scales.

Several times does he come face to face with death. Darkspawn summoned by the archdemon swarm the roof, and many of his brothers fall to their blades, magic, and arrows.

But every time he comes close, something saves him.

Sometimes, the elven mage heals him. She only does it once or twice, but it is enough for him to be grateful.

Sometimes, another manages to take the beast's attention away from him.

Sometimes, he's fast enough to dodge.

Though many fall, there are a few who never seem to go down.

The mages, one male, one female, and an older human with a grey beard.

The dwarves, one a man with ink on his face with dark armor, and the other a man of red hair.

An elf, who moves so fast Elran can barely tell that it is a man. He seems to be everywhere at once, quick to dodge and duck.

And a warrior with golden armor and the Grey Warden emblem on his shield.

Elran silently decides that this must be the king.

The king fights the darkspawn along with the dwarves and the elf, while the mages and the Dalish hunters attack the archdemon with everything they have.

Briefly, he wonders why the dragon doesn't fly away.

But there's something wrong with it's wing, he realizes. There's a bloody gash along it, running from the top and slicing all the way down. Like someone took a sword, stuck it though the leathery skin there, and dragged it down.

It's crippled.

It has no hope of escape now, not with the tear, along with many arrows, in it's wings.

It's entire body is covered in blood, both it's own and likely others'. And it's strength is fading, along with the number of darkspawn near enough to answer the beast's call.

The king struggles to free himself from the last of them as the archdemon roars in fury, trying to reach it...

But one of the mages is closer. And faster.

The man rushes forward, seizing a discarded greatsword in both hands as he goes.

The archdemon lunges for him, stretching out it's neck, but the mage ducks, sliding the sword under it's throat.

It's blood sprays everywhere as it lets out a scream of defeat as it collapses, and the mage is lucky it doesn't land on top of him.

But he isn't done.

He uses the weight of the sword to his advantage, bringing it over his head and plunging it straight into the dragon's skull.

But then a light is exploding upwards from the archdemon's body, shooting straight up into the sky.

Stunned, he looks over at the others.

They can only stare and gape back at him.

The light grows stronger, and brighter, and Elran shuts his eyes for a moment.

Then the blast hits him, and he probably hits his head when he's knocked back, because he blacks out.

And then... it was over.

With the archdemonn dead, the darkspawn horde quickly crumbled. Most fled back into the Deep Roads. They would remain a threat in the years to come, but the Blight had been ended before it had truly begun.

Ferelden had been saved, and the entire kingdom rose up to joyously greet it's new king.

The Grey Wardens stood redeemed, and a new age had begun.

But at what cost?

Alistair

Alistair won't lie.

He has no idea how Daylen survived killing the archdemon.

He doesn't really care.

Because he's alive, and Alistair is alive, and Avina... wherever she is, is alive.

The entire kingdom was ecstatic at their victory at the Battle of Denerim. The cheering hadn't stopped since they'd come down from Fort Drakon.

He is king now. His country adores him, for the moment, and everything he cared about is safe.

But this victory tastes bitter.

Daylen stands beside him as an advisor for the moment, where he promises he will be for at least a few more months. It's a relief, to have this piece from his past guiding him, teaching him how to lead.

He just wishes Avina was here to help balance him, as she always had before.

She just... vanished. He remembers seeing her after the battle, but as soon as they made it back to the gates, she was gone.

He asked everyone if they knew where she'd gone, and he continues to ask every chance he gets, but not even Leliana, Wynne, or Daylen know.

Or they're exceedingly good liars and want to keep her hidden. And this wouldn't surprise him.

But he won't stop looking for her, he knows. No matter how much his new advisors hate it. No matter what they say.

Daylen

Daylen enjoys this victory as much as the next person, but after all is said and done, he does not care for fame.

When the bards, authors, poets, and whatever else ask about how he should be portrayed, he asks them to leave him out.

He is not the true Hero of Ferelden.

And if she shall be forgotten, then so should he be.

Avina was nowhere to be found. During all the celebrations, the rebuilding, and for a little while afterward.

It was as if she never existed. People were eager enough to forget an elven mage in favor of a human man.

Maybe it was what she'd planned all along.

Alistair asks him every day if he knows anything about where she'd gone, and every day he tells the truth. He doesn't. Even if he did, he isn't certain he would tell. It might hurt them both more than it would help.

As he promised, he stays with Alistair for a time. He owes him that much, and with Morrigan busy with her search, it gives him plenty of his own time.

It is six months before he finally bids Ferelden's new king farewell to take up his duties as Commander of the Grey.

Surprisingly enough, this announcement is met with sadness.

They throw him one last party before he departs, and though he appreciates the thought, he leaves early.

He has a few more things to pack, and he has time to write to Morrigan-

He opens the door to his room to find a visibly pregnant elven servant scuttling about, her back turned to him. He clears his throat to alert her of his presence and steps aside so she can leave.

But when she turns to face him, he is momentarily stunned.

Avina fixes him with a saddened gaze, one hand resting on her swollen belly. "Daylen. I need your help."

THE END

FOR NOW...