The events of the next days were a blur, and it was hard for her to discern the details even afterward. The forced march to Denerim, the skirmishes with the darkspawn, seeing the city in flames and ruins, it was all like a nightmare to her. Alistair stood over her more times than she could count, protecting her fiercely with his shield, an expression of utter resolve etched on his face. The blood, the battles, the allies falling, the desperation of seeing the sheer number of their enemy looming before them… all in a haze of pain and determination that they must reach their goal.

And finally, bursting through the last door onto the roof of Fort Drakon and seeing the archdemon, battling it with sword and magic and sheer resolve. Charlotte took the final blow, plunging her sword deep into the creature's brain as it screamed in rage. A bright light burst forth and she closed her eyes, thinking that Morrigan was wrong somehow, that she would die. Light and heat emanated from the dead archdemon, throwing her back in a cataclysmic explosion, and she lost consciousness.

Faint sensations woke her— the familiar prickling warmth of Wynne's spells, a tugging and binding around her torso, and a hand clasped around hers.

"She's stable and healing, but she won't wake up for awhile. You should go get some rest yourself."

"I'm not leaving until she's awake."

The voices faded in and out, coming from very far away. She sank back into the darkness.

The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Alistair, slouched in an armchair that he had pulled to her bedside. He was sleeping in a bright pool of sunlight that streamed in through the high window, his head lolled to one side. The beam fell on his unshaven cheek, turning his coarse hair to gold.

Her eyes slid around the room. Alistair's armor, which he usually cared for devotedly, was in a jumbled heap in the corner, still splashed with dark blood. Near the bed that she lay in was a small table that held a basin of water and an abundance of gory bandages. The room smelled medicinal.

She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry. Instead, she moved her leg slightly, bumping his knee. Maker, even that hurt.

"You're awake!" Alistair was alert instantly. He seemed to want to do three things at once, but settled on kneeling next to the bed with a cup of water, which he held to her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered weakly. She tried to push herself higher in the bed but winced at the pain in her ribs. "What's happened?"

"You've been unconscious for almost two days. The explosion, after you killed the archdemon, threw you back into some rubble and bruised your ribs. That's why they're bandaged. Um, other than me being worried sick, everything's great."

"The Blight?"

"Gone. The darkspawn have fled back underground for now."

She sighed and smiled at him. "We did it."

"You did it. I was so afraid that I would lose you, but here you are. And here I am. Not bad, right?" He was holding her hands tightly and smiling so widely his eyes almost disappeared.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, and reached up to touch his face.

A short time later, Charlotte and all her companions gathered in the great hall of the palace in Denerim. They were all bathed, rested, and wearing clean clothes. Oghren had even washed his beard. Alistair stood before them on the raised dais to address the assembled nobles.

"My friends," he called out in a strong voice, "we are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory. The one who led the final charge against the archdemon remains with us still, an inspiration to all those she saved that day." He held out his hand to Charlotte, who climbed the stairs to take it. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I formally present my betrothed, who will soon be your queen." His voice was tender on the last words.

He went on to explain his intention to turn the arl of Amaranthine into the new Grey Warden headquarters, and to build a monument to the fallen Wardens in Denerim.

After the official speech, he turned to her. The nobles began milling around, speaking among themselves.

"You look very handsome," she said softly, running her fingers over the embossed golden armor covering his chest.

"Oh, you're just saying that," he chuckled. "At any rate, I can't wait to get you alone. These formal affairs drive me insane."

"Meet you upstairs later?"

"I'll be waiting." He arched an eyebrow and smiled mischievously. "By the way, there's a group of citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero. You should go out on the balcony after you speak to everyone. I'm sure they want a word, especially that tall fellow over there." He pointed across the room to a man who had just walked through the door.

"That's…" she gasped. She turned and kissed Alistair swiftly, then ran down the stairs to greet her brother.

"Fergus!"

He turned and caught her as she hugged him. "When I heard that my little sister was not only a Grey Warden but also leading Ferelden into battle? I was surprised, to put it mildly. Father would be so proud of you. I know I am. Let me look at you, all dressed up. You hate wearing pretty clothes."

"Fergus, where have you been? I've been so worried," Charlotte scolded.

"I was injured and recuperating with the Chasind. I didn't have any way to get word to anyone until I left."

"I killed him," she blurted. "Howe, I mean. I killed him myself."

"I wish I could have been there with you, after what he did to us," Fergus's eyes were cold. "At least the Grey Wardens got Amaranthine. There's some justice in that." He sighed. "I'm heading back to Highever soon, to rebuild. I will see you soon, I hope?"

"If I can get away."

"Good. It won't be the same without… everyone." He glanced up toward Alistair, who was watching them talk. Noticing the movement, Alistair smiled. "But look at you, sis. That man loves you. It's obvious."

She blushed. "Yes, we're very happy."

"That makes me happy, pup. Now don't spend all your time talking with me. These other stuffed shirts want a word with their hero."

She hugged him one last time and turned away to speak with the other people gathered in the hall. Everyone was smiling and happy, relieved that the looming threats to their homes was gone. At last she stepped out into the bright sunlight on the balcony, to loud cheers from the people gathered below. Bright banners and flags danced on the breeze. The whole square in front of the palace was packed with people. Dazed, she raised her hand to wave, and felt Alistair slip his arm around her waist. She hadn't heard him follow her outside.

He kissed her gently below the ear and whispered, "I love you."

She murmured the words back, turning her face toward him. "Always," she added.