Before the Last Battle

Blood and viscera was everywhere, staining what had once been the grounds of hope of an early victory against the Fifth Blight. All his fellow soldiers lay dead next to him. The King, damnable fool that he was, lay on the ground with his neck snapped. Leader of the Grey Wardens in Fereldan, Duncan, lie dead not far from him, his skull smashed by a darkspawn's axe. He looked up, and saw the signal, lit like the beacon of fragile hope. Why was no help coming? The armies were supposed to be coming, why was no one-? He looked over to where their reinforcements stood. Lightning cracked the sky, casting a menacing and familiar face into sharp relief. In the light and an eerie silence that had overtaken the battlefield, he saw the figure mouthing three words.

"Sound the retreat."

The lights of the army in waiting pulled away, the sky growing blacker by the second. There was no chance of survival now. They had no hope.

No hope.

There was no end to them. The strongest arm of the horde had taken hold of Denerim. Trying to fight them was suicide. But fight he would, and defend the gates of the city he had won back from the Orlesians. This city had been invaded and lost times beyond counting. But it would not happen again tonight. Though many soldiers of the army of Redcliffe fell, he would not let himself be disheartened. He could not. His injuries were becoming more and more severe by the second, but he would not falter. He had to endure. For the sake of Ferelden, of the world, he had to endure.

He was atop Fort Drakon now. Battered, beaten, exhausted. The archdemon that had so fiercely roared in his face not minutes before lie before him, as exhausted as he was. This fighting had to end.

He couldn't endure any longer.

Raising his blade, he charged for the barely-moving Archdemon, and drove the sword into its head. Light and energy overwhelmed him, the soul of the Old God moving into his body, seeking its own essence. He could not contain it- it was consuming him. Consuming him. He was being erased! The song filled his ears!

"NO!" Teyrn Loghain cried out, snapping awake in his bed. He forced himself to keep from shivering, though the sweat running down his body was cold as ice.

Another nightmare. he thought to himself, gazing at the symbol of the Grey Wardens emblazoned on his shield against the wall. They've been getting more and more frequent as of late. He could feel a sickness, a wrongness in his blood, and knew his time was upon him. It is time for me to leave for the Deep Roads.

He was glad that his time in service to the Orlesian Grey Wardens had, in the last year, been brought to an end. So it would be from his own home that he left on this final journey. He went about the process of pulling on his armor, as he'd done many times before over the years, and had just sheathed his blade when he heard a familiar female voice address him from the doorway.

"Father?" she asked, stepping into the room. Loghain turned around to face his daughter, Queen Anora. She looked down for a few moments before turning her gaze back to her father, saying, "It's time, isn't it?"

He needn't respond. His silence was answer enough. Anora's eyes welled with tears, and she ran forward to embrace her father tightly for what she knew would be the last time.

"Don't go... Please..." she whispered, practically clinging to her father.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He stroked her hair comfortingly, as he'd always done when she ran to him, upset over something. "Anora, hush. It's over."

She looked up from the hard shoulder plates of his armor to glare at him. "Stop talking to me like I'm still a child! This is serious!"

A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth as he saw and heard the pouting in that statement. Dear, sweet Anora, she was the same as she ever was. Running about, leading Cailan a merry chase, getting herself dirty, pouting when she didn't get her way. Loghain chuckled to himself, and whispered to her, "Daughters never grow up... They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."

"Father..." she whimpered, holding him even more tightly.

Loghain cradled his little girl in his arms, savoring his last moments with her before he was to return to a world of darkness and blood and battle. You knew all along this was only an extended waiting period before the actual execution. You truly are a cruel woman, Solona Amell, to give one the illusion of a life after joining the Grey.

A tear slipped from his eye at the thought of leaving his little girl truly alone in the world, and he held her even closer. But... were it not for the second chance you gave me, I'd only have been redeemed through my death. You made me use the rest of my life to atone for what I'd done, earn my redemption through my actions, not by being a martyr. Without this chance, I'd never have truly regained the respect of the people. Nor would I have these last moments with my daughter to carry me through the battle to come.

The embrace had gone on for several minutes now, and Loghain had to force himself to let go of his daughter. Duty was first and foremost, after all. And Anora understood. She kissed her father on the cheek one last time, and whispered, "Maker watch over you, Father..."

He nodded. "Maker watch over us all."

As he stepped out of the room, and began his trek to exit the castle, one last stubborn tear slid down the teyrn's cheek. You were a cruel, cruel woman, Solona Amell. Maker bless you.

The sound of the song was drowned out by the steps of his horse as he rode off into the night for the last time.