A/N: Sorry for the long wait again, but here it is, THE FINAL CHAPTER!

Thank you so much for all your reviews, faves, and alerts! I had a great time and definately feel like I grew as a writer.

I hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing it and sharing it with all of you.

I have read all your comments and taken them to heart. (I mostly haven't responded because I don't exactly know how... lol). I apologize for not including or incorporating everything in the DA universe within the series, but maybe my future works will "fill in the gaps" for those interested.

For those hungry for just a little more, be on the lookout for a special one-shot update as a sequel/alternative ending to this series.

Also, just reminding you the comic version of this fan fiction is on my deviantart account (TalonDragon000).

Special thanks to Brelaina for being my AMAZING beta reader, for being so prompt and thorough in your responses and encouraging in your reviews. I'm so grateful for having the opportunity to work with you.

~Enjoy! ^_^

Ch. 20 Legacy

She knew it would happen and mentally prepared herself for days. It was expected; almost inevitable, yet her whole body shook and she stood rooted to the stone floor.

It was not because Loghain's blood splattered and glistened on Alistair's royal armor; not because it now soaked the knees of Anora's gown. Death was never an easy thing to witness, but this was expected and a part of their mission. Duncan and the rest of the Grey Wardens were rightfully avenged.

It wasn't even the moment Eamon announced Alistair as King. Eamon was intent on making it so from the very beginning. Of course he would be quick to place Alistair on the throne. He didn't know about Violet's promise to support Anora as queen. She had given Alistair a way out so the burden could be lifted from them. There was no need to force him on the throne anymore. It was what they wanted.

No, it was just when Violet was about to protest that it happened: Alistair – confident and unwavering – quickly accepted his birthright for all of Ferelden to know.

No whining. No protest. No fear.

Instead, his eyes were determined and his presence was that of… a king.

"Wh-what!" Violet's voice finally cracked. "Alistair," she said softer to attempt to regain her demeanor, "I thought you didn't want to be king?"

His eyes softened, but his posture remained tall. "I thought so too, but I've been thinking. I could do a lot of good for Ferelden and it's time I grew up. I'm not a child anymore." He completely turned to face her. His face was serious again. "I'm a Grey Warden. And now, I'm King."

She stepped forward and started to whisper, "But Alistair, we could give the throne to Anora. She can rule Ferelden and after the Blight we can go on our way; do what we want; travel. We can create a new life for ourselves. Isn't that what you want?"

Alistair reached for Violet's hand and caressed it with his thumb. He admired it as he spoke, "I want to be with you, love… but there's no way in the Fade I'd give Anora the throne."

When he looked back at Violet she could see there was no way to change his mind.

Violet held herself and glared at the flames dancing in the fireplace. She and the rest of the party were instructed to wait for Alistair in the dining hall, but Violet rushed to the living room instead. How could she face him now? What was there to say?

What happened to him? She thought angrily. Her mind was reeling. He chose to be king… instead of being with me? Even though I gave him a way out… She looked at the palm he held a moment ago. Electricity sparked on her fingertips. She was starting to lose control.

Sorrow soon swept over her as another thought emerged. "Was I… not good enough?" she whispered. The sparks flicked brighter and faster.

"Of course that isn't it, Violet." Violet jumped and quickly turned to find Alistair standing behind her. She was so lost in thought she didn't hear or sense him come in.

His eyes were soft, but again, he carried himself like a noble. He was fitting into his new role almost effortlessly.

She choked, trying to find her voice again. "What then? What made you change your mind?"

He stepped forward and reached out to caress her face, but she pulled away awaiting his reply. He sighed. "You, my love; you told me I should start standing up for myself. And you are the one who does just that every day against the injustice of your gender, race, and… gift."

He knew she still didn't understand by the way she tilted her head. It wasn't the cute tilt she normally did, but there it was; spiteful.

"I am doing this for you, love; to make a better world for you," he continued. "Under Anora's rule, who knows what injustice she would continue to allow, just like her father did before her? In all these years she's been Queen, there were no movements for change. But, I've seen first-hand what this country is like and I have a vision of what this world could be. I'm given a chance to make those reasons so many were ridiculed a thing of the past. I could make a better future for you."

"My future means nothing if you aren't in it!" she screamed. Her hands clenched tightly to her sides. "You know what it means to be king. That's why you're here, isn't it? You need a human Heir and I can't be queen. To take this role you've chosen the throne and Ferelden over us!"

Alistair finally let his shoulders droop. He didn't know what to say.

Her fists gleaned a vibrant purple. Her heart raced. "Thought so," she snarled. "Well, King or not, I'm not going to lose you again!"

He frowned, taken aback by her outburst. How was she supposed to do that?

"There has to be a way…" Violet continued, much softer this time, but just as determined. "You're the king now… Can't you do something?"

That's right; he was so focused on a better future that he didn't realize what it was he was willing to throw away in the process. He had never give the future much thought until the Blight began and even then he didn't want to examine it too closely for fear of losing the precious moments of the present. The past few days, however, he mistook goals and duty as the only things to consider. His motivation was for her, yet he ignored her feelings. The oppression and prejudice made him lose sight of what it was they already had and cherished.

"You're right…" he started to say softly. Violet watched him carefully. "I am the king." He straightened up again. "But I don't want to lose you Violet."

He reached for her again. This time, she didn't move away. His arms pulled her close and he squeezed her tightly. "I vowed to protect you and I intend to do so. That never changed. I will stay by your side, but that may mean facing more hardship."

Her eyes started to water. She was confused. He gave in too easily. "You mean, denouncing the throne?"

"No," he said calmly, "Like I said, I won't give it up to Anora, but that doesn't mean we can't be together." He looked down at her sadly. "Love, I'll leave it up to you. I will still need an Heir, but will you stay with me?"

She frowned. "As… what exactly?"

She could tell he was struggling to find the right words. "As… my love."

"You mean mistress?" she asked bitterly.

"I know it's not the fairytale ending you were hoping for, love. But, this way we can be together."

A spark returned to Violet's eyes. "My name is already tarnished by my race and talents… Adding mistress to that list…" She sighed.

"No, I will make sure you're remembered as a hero and as the love of my life; nothing less."

"…It will take a while for everyone to think of me that way."

"It will take a while for everyone to accept the many changes I have in mind, period," he replied bluntly.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You aren't going to turn into a tyrant… are you?"

He frowned but soon chuckled in that boyish way she hadn't heard for days. "Me? You think I could be a tyrant?"

A smile finally crept to her lips. "No. Never."

"Roooaaaarrr!" Alistair stood with his toy dragon and wiggled it in Violet's face. "I'm going to eat you!"

Violet screamed and ducked her head into her hands. "Alistair, stop it! It's scary. I don't want to play anymore!" She swatted the doll out of his hand.

"Hey!" He ran over to pick it up and turned to scold her but noticed she was still hunched over. She was petting her princess doll's hair and sniffling.

She's such a cry baby… he thought a little irritably. He couldn't stay mad at her, though. It was his fault she was crying after all. Of course, he wasn't going to apologize outright, but he had to make her feel better somehow.

He looked around and spotted her prince doll on the floor.

"Aha! Foul demon! How dare you make my princess cry!"

Violet wiped her eyes and turned around slowly, curious to see what he was doing.

Alistair made a tiny stick sword and was pretending the two toys were in an epic battle. "This is for my princess!" he cried and thrust the stick at the dragon. "You can't defeat me!" he growled and wiggled the dragon around. He moved the dragon to make it look like it was flying through the air.

"Oh no! The dragon is going to eat you, prince!" Violet cried totally engrossed in Alistair's world of make-believe.

He smiled. She stopped crying, he thought happily. "Stay back my fair maiden, I will save you!" The dragon started to descend toward the prince.

"Watch out! It's swooping!" she warned, wiggling her princess character as well.

"Hyaahhh!" he cried and made his prince leap to unnatural heights to avoid the creature's attack. "Hyah, hyah, hyah!" he yelled again while stabbing the dragon multiple times with his sword.

"No!" the dragon wailed and Alistair tipped him over with a pitiful, "ugghhhh…"

"Yay! You killed it!" Violet stood and started jumping for joy.

"Of course I did. I'm a prince!" Alistair beamed with pride and stood in a victorious pose.

Violet crouched near the dragon and tapped it. "No swooping for you," she reprimanded.

"Yeah," he added, "because swooping is bad."

"Alistair!" Violet yelled as a group of darkspawn began swarming him.

Though accustomed to taking on multiple opponents at once, this time there were twice as many as he was used to. One of the creatures finally bludgeoned him on the back of the head and knocked him to the ground.

"No!" she cried and directed her ice attack toward the group, freezing them in place long enough for Alistair to get back on his feet. He shook his head and noticed the villains' stiff-glistening bodies and quickly seized the opportunity to hack away and eliminate half of them. Now he was back at a fighting chance.

Violet sighed with relief and returned her efforts toward the Arch Demon.

Gigantic. She couldn't believe how huge the dragon was. Morrigan's mother looked like a dwarf compared to the former God. Every time it roared it sent shivers down her spine. It took almost all her willpower and courage not to succumb to the thoughts of defeat. Never in all their time together was she more grateful for her allies and friends until that day. They willingly and openly pledged their allegiance and their lives to their new king. To the Grey Wardens. To her.

Parting with most of her companions back at the gate was one of the hardest moments of her life. She prayed to the Maker that they were alright.

She glanced back to check on the rest of the fleet.

Leliana was busy shooting and repairing the ballistae. Morrigan managed to summon a vapor of entropic energy around the dragon. The remaining allies rotated among themselves to recoup, tend the wounded, and fight with all their strength against the Arch Demon. It was chaos, but they were one; and they moved with a sense of purpose, pride, determination, and unity.

What was wrong with her? How could a war stimulate such beautiful thoughts?

It was because of their unity; that sense that no matter what race, age, or gender they were; no matter what talent or skill they had, they were brothers and sisters of Ferelden.

The battle raged on. Her mana was draining fast from the massive spells she tried to maintain. Their limited supply of potions was quickly emptying. The horde of darkspawn seemed relentless. How long had they been fighting? Time was lost to her hours ago.

Corpses were piling by the minute. Some were comrades; some enemy.

Yet, all bled, bruised, and moaned in agony.

The old God did too. It was no longer immortal. The God bled. The God bruised. The God roared and wailed.

With every scream, Violet grew more eager and confident that the end was nearing.

In fact, she saw it. Leliana fired another round from the ballista and knocked it across the dragon's head. It moaned and lost its balance. The monster fell to its elbows and knees. The elves noticed the signs of weakness and sent a rain of arrows. The mages sent a flurry of attacks and the dwarves and Redcliff soldiers did their best to slash at its legs. Its head started drooping.

The darkspawn noticed their God's distress and grew more agitated and aggressive. She sensed their desperation.

The creatures slowly started to regain the advantage. The men were suppressed and the volley of arrows was waning. The ballistae finally broke and the magic was thinning.

They had to end it now. She looked toward Alistair. He was still preoccupied with his own continuous group of darkspawn.

"…Only a Grey Warden can kill the Arch Demon," she repeated out loud. The instruction was given to Alistair and herself the night before the battle by Orlesian Grey Warden, Riordan. A flash of Riordan's unfortunate demise flashed through her mind.

She and Alistair were the only ones left.

The demon had to die.

It had to end now.

But, whoever kills the Arch Demon will die as well, she thought. Her stomach churned.

She looked on to Alistair with a heavy heart. She felt faint. All those years she longed to find him. All those months she fought beside him. All those days they exchanged words, looks, and kisses. All those nights they confirmed their love.

And in one day, she would lose it all.

She faced the dragon again, trembling, short of breath, and eyes watering. Her head pounded and tears finally slid down her cheeks.

She had to calm down. Her magic wouldn't summon correctly if she lost focus.

She flicked her wrist and tried to concentrate her mana, but it was no use. Her body was defying her. It was fighting her. It didn't want her to continue.

Yet, a sword near the demon's feet glistened in the firelight.

She had no choice.

In ragged breaths she used all her will to gather the sword and run toward the dragon. Her chest pounded and ached. It was hard to breath and she felt like she was on fire.

But, she continued to run. She continued to pierce through the creature's chest and slide the sword down to its belly. She continued to climb on top of it like a desperate wild woman and with a cry that echoed her fear, love, regret, pride, and sorrow all at once, stabbed it through the head.

In that moment, a beam of amazingly bright light flooded out of the wound. She squinted her eyes and wanted to pull away, but her hands were frozen to the weapon. Some sort of force now fused her to the dragon, taint and soul united through the vessel of the iron sword. She tried to scream, but no words formed. Her voice was lost. The sounds of battle were starting to fade.

Forgive me Alistair, my love… Violet prayed.

Alistair's frantic cries were useless.

He tried to run to her, to stop her, save her, but within seconds the light receded and shot out with such a force that it knocked Violet off of the dragon. Her hand was finally freed from the metal conduit. But in the instance her body departed… so did her soul.

Dear Maker,

It was a hard thing to witness.

Alistair screamed at the top of his lungs and cradled Violet close to his chest. He cried and called out her name until his voice grew hoarse and he could no longer speak. I tried to console him, but he shook me away and ignored my words. In his desperation he tried to use his status as king to order all the mages to heal her. They tried to convince him she was lost, but he refused to listen and ordered them to fetch Wynne from the front gates. While he waited her arrival, he rocked and petted her head as if nurturing a babe.

Violet grew cold and pale under his embrace. When Wynne finally arrived the darkspawn were either long gone or dead.

The war may have ended and the battle won, but it was not a day for celebration.

To the few of us that called her a friend, a sister, a lover, we hung our heads low and wept.

Alistair refused to move all night. He kept saying he didn't want to leave her side.

We didn't know what to do. He wouldn't let go and he couldn't leave.

Eventually, Wynne told him he was king now and had to act like one. She said that now that the blight was over he had to address to his people, accept what happened, and mourn in private. I always thought of her as a practical and wise woman, but she was not unkind. She suggested holding the most elaborate funeral Ferelden had ever seen and praise Violet as the Hero of Ferelden. That with her death he could better convince the people of equality among the races, classes, and mages; to treat her as an inspiration for generations to come.

Finally, Alistair stood. Violet hung limp in his arms. He silently carried her all the way down the tower and wouldn't stop or let anyone aid him. He ignored everyone's cheers and questions and with glazed eyes moved like a mindless spirit. He didn't stop until he reached the castle in Denerim and laid her down on his bed. He knelt on her bedside and rested his forehead on her frozen hand. It was then he finally told the nearest guard to "prepare the funeral" and remained silent until the ceremony.

It really was a magnificent affair. His coronation preceded the funeral so when he addressed the crowd, it was as their official king. He remained somber and looked like he hadn't slept in days. Though he stood tall I could see the pain in his eyes. He was a man with a broken heart and a broken spirit, but in his despair he touched the hearts of every Ferelden. He spoke of Violet in the highest praise, declared the Circle of Magi free, and announced further changes to accept the elves of the land.

It was a call to action. He took Wynne's advice to heart and vowed his reign to seek peace and rebuild the country to its former glory.

The people were sympathetic, moved by his sincerity, and deeply grateful to the Warden's sacrifice.

Since then our group has disbanded, Alistair is busy making his promise a reality, and I'm traveling throughout Thedas to spread Violet's legacy.

We owe it to her to remember her in all her glory.

And as the Wardens proclaim at the start of their joining – and as Alistair began his speech before her golden coffin:

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Blessed Maker, please care for her. And I hope Alistair can accomplish his mission. Maybe then, we will be worthy enough to gain your forgiveness.

Forever faithful,

Leliana.