Authors note: I hope you guys like this :) and thank you for the reviews :)
As they marched for Denerim the companions glared at him, but no longer offered barbed comments. She, however, chatted about the upcoming battle, bolstered the soldiers morale with discussions of how mighty a force they had gathered. But he knew she only said such things in their presence. At camp, when she knew they were not watching, she would lean her head against his shoulder and sigh, keeping watch together as they always did.
When they finally engage in the battle, when they finally confront the armies of darkspawn they had been raised to fight, she is a thing to see. She dances around the darkspawn to a violent melody only she can hear. Her blades flashing like liquid silver as she darts through their ranks. She seems to have an unnatural kind of luck, fireballs that should have incinerated her go glancing past, or she spins an enemy into it's range instead. On the rare occasions she gets overwhelmed he is there, shield and sword, carving her a bloody path to freedom. Failing that her golem, Shale, simply walks to her and carries her from danger. Anything thick enough to try and remain in front of the golem was reduced to a crumpled stain on the blood soaked earth.
It is only when she prepares for that final blow on the stunned dragon that he realises that even though he had submitted to the vile ritual, there was still a chance that it would not work. and he couldn't let her risk it. not after everything he had taken from her, not when there was another option.
He grabbed her bloodstained arm, the leather of her armour singed away by a near miss with the arch demons flame, stared into those expressive weary eyes and kissed her, lightly. It wasn't a thing of lust, but he wanted to thank her for everything, should the demon drag him to hell with it. Her eyes were wide as he pulled back, "I'm sorry." his voice is soft, barely audible above the sounds of battle still echoing from below. Wynne's shock voiced in the air. but he paid none of it heed.
As was her title, with the Cousland woman everything was grey and confusing. But Killing the Archdemon? That was refreshingly black and white.
The great sword fit his hands like an old friend, though he had never wielded it before. his armor rang as his footsteps pounded against the cobblestones. The Archdemon roared, lifting it's massive head and thrusting it forward in hopes of catching him with it's teeth. But he ducked it, sliding across the blood soaked ground and dragging his blade along the length of it's neck. it collapsed as he got back to his feet, the roar silenced.
It wasn't quite dead yet, that much even a new warden could tell. He glanced up at her, watching Shale hold her back, Wynne beside her watching. he met her eyes and lifted the blade, a triumphant bellow leaving his lips as he plunged the blade through flesh and bone and brain. as it passed through he felt a curious whisper, a shadow of a touch caress his skin before seeking something else. a great blinding light emerged, moving through the blade and filling him up before shooting to the sky with an earth shaking pulse. He flew backwards, hands slipping free of the blade and slammed into the stone walls of Fort Drakon, hearing her voice call out his name.
As all crashed down into darkness he wondered, not of Anora, not of Ferelden. Not even of impending Orlesian tricks. All of the things that had seemed so very important when he was blundering about trying to save everyone, was suddenly gone. Instead he wondered if he deserved to be forgiven for his actions. For the lives he had ruined. He wasn't much of a believer in the maker, reality had been a harsh taskmaster far too often for belief to flourish. But right now, on the wisp of thought that was the entirety of his fading mind, he prayed. Not for himself, not for a happy ending. But that he had made things right before he died.
Don't fret! i'm not finished yet ;)