Amaranthine was burning.

Kya ran with purpose back towards the Vigil with Nate on her heels and Anders and Oghren lagging behind. She tried to focus on the task at hand – the bulk of the Mother's forces (whatever in the Black City she actually was, and Maker's furry ass if Kya really didn't want to know) were headed to Vigil's Keep. The attack on Amaranthine had been a diversion. But the cracking of burning timbers, the screaming, and the stench of scorched flesh behind them? It spoke otherwise. It said diversion or no, there was nothing left.

Thank Andraste's good luck that Nate had insisted his sister and her husband leave the city. They were safely on their way to Denerim, household in tow. Kya couldn't even consider the alternative – adding the screams of Delilah Howe and her unborn child to the din she couldn't block out, even as the distance increased between her ears and the city walls.

No matter the horror, Kya didn't have time for guilt. Though there were many lives lost behind those walls, there were nearly as many at the Vigil who were not expecting the coming onslaught. She knew she really couldn't beat the darkspawn to the gates, but she was damn well going to try. Despite his anger at her decision to allow Amaranthine's destruction, she felt the soft touch of Anders' magic wash over her, reinvigorating her flagging energy. She knew he was going to give her an earful the moment he had the chance, but thankfully he had the good sense to not try it now.

She heard the change in Nate's breathing too, clearly Anders magic was revitalizing him as well. He managed to pick up his pace until he was running alongside her, instead of behind. He shot her a look; worried and determined, then punctuated their unspoken communication with a nod, turning his focus back towards keeping one leg moving after the other.

She saw her own stamped down emotions reflected in his quick glance. He wasn't a heartless beast any more than she was, despite opinions to the contrary. But he had her back at the gates of Amaranthine, as Anders shrieked in horror. It was the way of things – unless you were larger than life, like Maric the Savior or Calenhad himself, even the greatest deeds could be overshadowed by failures. Kya was the Hero of Ferelden, but the death of the tribe of Dalish, the death of the people of Amaranthine; these things were sure just to add fuel to the fire of the rumors swirling around her. Her collusion with Loghain certainly did her no favors either. Even with truth at their core, the rumors she was a maleficarum, a witch; evil and selfish and bloodthirsty? If there were survivors from Amaranthine, they would hardly be singing her praises, even if she managed to survive the coming horrors.

Hard decisions, indeed.

They came barreling through the gate to the Vigil, the heavy doors creaking closed behind them, just in front of the rampaging army of darkspawn. It was hardly a horde – nothing like the writhing mass that had descended on Denerim at the end of the Blight, but there was a special terror to these. There was the gleam of intelligence in their bulging eyes and in the curling sneers of their lip-less mouths. Fighting waves of mindless beasts was like fighting the tide – once you found your stride, you could weather them. But these? They were as organized as any human army, and twice as terrifying with their tainted blood spilling and turning the earth to blacked ash.

Between the darkspawn and the innocents of the Vigil and the rest of Ferelden beyond there were only five living Grey Wardens. And one dead one, in the form of Justice, but Kya was never entirely sure where his loyalties lay or even if the taint in his blood would be of any real use. He was an anomaly who's influence she could see starting to wear on Anders. But that was a completely separate disaster she didn't have time to contemplate now.

All she could do now was scream orders, gesticulate wildly and try to look like she had some idea what she was doing. She had watched Loghain bark orders at recruits, and she found herself mimicking his cool efficiency in times like this. She also found herself missing him desperately at times like these, if only for his military expertise. It helped more than she even realized to have Nate's steady presence at her back. He wasn't about to go shouting orders and take the responsibility away from her as Loghain often had, but he wasn't about to contradict her – as Loghain also had. There was something to be said for unwavering cooperation.

Varel efficiently took her barked orders, relaying them quickly, sending archers and mages to the curtain wall, swordsmen in the inner courtyard, brutes with clubs and more muscles than sense to the gates. Despite the seeming chaos, everyone had a mission and they were quick to fulfill it. She knew she was hardly universally loved, but at least she was respected. Sometimes that was the better place to be in. Once upon a time, King Cailan might have benefited from that fact.

As it was, he was gone, and it was once again only Kya's band of merry misfits between Ferelden and destruction. This was becoming a familiar situation she was entirely sure she could do without.

It felt like it was over before it even began. The clash of battle had come so quickly, the ogres breaking through the gates like they were made of paper, bodies, blood and spells, arrows and screams flew through the air. Kya couldn't recall any specific actions she'd taken. If someone had asked her what spell she'd used to fell the ogre with the helmet, or more horribly the wickedly intelligent Hurlock that had run his sword through Varel? She wouldn't have been able to answer.

She did know what spots of blood on her armor belonged to her now deceased seneschal. Those were stains she would not soon forget. He'd been unwaveringly loyal to her, never questioning her orders and being like the father of the Vigil. His death had left a gaping hole. It also spurred her anger when word came as the last of the wounded darkspawn were being dispatched that the Lair of the Mother had been found. Scouts had followed the retreating darkspawn to a gash in the earth where they disappeared back into the Deep Roads. And the sounds and smells they described? It made it clear the Mother was exactly what Kya had feared.

A broodmother. The mere thought turned her blood to ice. She did what she could to contain her fear as the scouts completed their reports. She sent them on their way to the healers and the baths, trying to wrap her head around what was to come. A part of her wanted to use some of Dworkin's explosives to just collapse the entrance to the Mother's lair, and then run away to Orlais or Antiva or the Maker forsaken Tevinter Empire and just forget she was a Grey Warden.

Of course, the Mother wouldn't let a few tons of rubble stop her; Kya knew this fair well. She'd just send her minions to dig, or to search for another way to surface. Even if that Architect creature was lying, even if everything the supposedly friendly darkspawn had told her was false, clearly the Mother wanted nothing but carnage. The issue of speech aside, she was still a darkspawn.

There was just the matter of who she would take with her, since there was nowhere far enough to run away. As much as a part of her wanted to protect him, she knew Nate wouldn't be left behind, even if this was suicide mission. And Grey Wardens had to be the ones – but Maker she hated to admit it, but she couldn't trust Anders; not after his outburst at Amaranthine. It wasn't the first time he'd disagreed with her, far from, but it was the first time he almost took action to stop her. She was convinced it was only the knowledge that both Nate and Oghren would have defended her that stayed his hand. Loyalty and friendship were in his heart certainly, but in the end, Anders was an extremist. When it came to his own code of morality, he wasn't to be swayed. In matters of affection he was free as a wild animal, but in matters of ethics? There was no grey in Anders' world, except in the title he now had before his name. The world was black and white – the circle was wrong and so was letting people die if there was any chance to save them, no matter how slim. Well, except for templars. He seemed nearly gleeful when they'd been forced to cut down that group of them on Anders' mad quest for his phylactery.

Anders had taken the place Jowan had in her heart, it was true, and Kya remembered vividly how well that had gone. He had to stay behind.

For the same reasons, she also knew she could not take Justice, as useful as his blade would be down there. She worried at the idea of leaving him alone with Anders – especially if something went wrong, but she didn't seem to have a lot of good choices here. And perhaps with all the injured to care for, Anders would be too busy to spend much time discussing politics and morality with the dead man.

So the choice was made for her, Nate, Oghren and Sigrun would follow her into the bowels of the earth, and hopefully not to their deaths. Maker, how many times had she done this – taken people she had the audacity to call friend or even lover, and put them into mortal danger? This was not what she had in mind when she happily followed Duncan from Kinloch.

If she could go back in time, she wondered if she'd just kick him between the legs, cast a glyph of paralysis and scurry off into the Korcari Wilds to fend for herself. Or instead maybe she'd thank him for in a roundabout way, helping her find the people she'd come to care about more than any before in her life? And not only those she expected; Alistair, Loghain, Nathaniel but the rest as well, Sigrun and Oghren, despite misgivings Anders and Justice, Zevran, Sten, Leliana, Wynne, Morrigan. They were her only family. Her family name was Amell, but that was all she knew of her blood. Instead these mismatched creatures, human, elf and qunari; they were the closest thing she'd ever known to a real family.

This was the worst part of the fight in her mind, this tiny calm as they prepared to walk into the maelstrom. It would take two days travel – like a normal person with sleep and such to make it there. Kya expected Grey Wardens could do it in a day, with a short rest after dark tonight. So with no fanfare and less preparation, Kya led them out. She could almost feel Anders eyes boring into the back of her head.

Anders was like a sort of external conscience and maybe that was something she lacked from time to time. But now wasn't the time for second guessing or foolishness. That would have her end up like Duncan, who in her mind, let sentiment get in the way of common sense when he put the Grey Wardens in the King's hands. Even now that the King of Ferelden was a Grey Warden, she wasn't about to let him call the shots. That bit of Grey Warden legacy over rode everything, even former entanglements. Alistair might think her contrary behavior was just a function of awkward bitterness, but it went deeper than that. Putting him on the throne and this temporary post as Arlessa were the last forays into politics this Grey Warden ever intended. When this was over, she was going to have a nice long talk with the King and she was going to tell him right where he could stuff his arling.

Nate took up his newly customary place at her side as they put the Vigil behind them again, Oghren and Sigrun following closely behind. The two dwarves had become nearly inseparable. They seemed to have an understanding of one another, something Kya had never really seen in the short time Oghren had been with his wife. She wondered if maybe she was too hard on him when she snapped at him about Felsi. Maybe it was really like what had happened with Alistair. She loved him, she wouldn't deny it, but they were oil and water. Love and attraction aside, they would never understand each other, and that was as important as any other trait a lover needed to have.

Oghren and Sigrun seemed to understand each other, and had fallen into a strange little harmony – Kya didn't understand the words, but she recognized the tune as Leliana would have said. How odd was it that the bard hopped into her head now. Her thoughts were uncharacteristically jumbled, jumping around and trying desperately to ignore how her heart was all in knots more because of the man walking beside her than the concept of impending death.

Madness and a great way to get killed, that was. She glanced over at him, catching him doing the same thing. He looked mildly embarrassed, but only smirked and moved a bit closer to her. The backs of their hands conveniently brushed together for a few strides before they gave up the pretense and linked their fingers together. Kya heard Oghren's gruff chuckle from behind them and it didn't bother her, not even one bit.