Authors Note: This was a ridiculously rough chapter to write, very emotional, so I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks all for the kind reviews and for following along! As always, it is much appreciated.

Chapter 48 - Déjà Vu

"It all feels the same," Serena murmured. "It's just like reliving a nightmare..."

They were trudging up the path to the tower, and Alistair had his senses pushed wide open for darkspawn. They'd already encountered another small batch of darkspawn as they made their way up the hill towards the giant Tevinter structure. He exchanged quick glances with Serena, and then they were pulling open the doors.

Darkspawn rushed them as soon as they moved inside. Zevran pulled one of the metallic bombs from his belt and tossed it ahead where it exploded into a bright fireball. They heard the screams of the downed monsters and Wynne moved forward, a fireball pushing out of her outstretched hands and into the fiery inferno, increasing the flames.

"I have always enjoyed my opponents a little on the crispy side," the elf quipped, pulling his two long daggers from his back. He grinned as the fire died down, the bodies of the darkspawn little more than ashes.

"Where did you get those fiery bomb things, by the way?" Serena had her bow out, remembering how handy it had been the last time she had been here. "I saw you use them against one of the sylvans, too."

"I make them, actually," Zevran replied. "I can teach you back at camp. It is a delicate art, to make sure one does not blow themselves up while producing them. For now..." The assassin pulled two of the small bombs out of his belt and handed one each to Serena and Alistair. "You never know when you may need a little explosive help, no?"

The next room held a few traps that Serena and Zevran deactivated quickly while Alistair and Wynne covered them. Alistair could feel the presence of more darkspawn just ahead, they were pressing in on his senses, and he knew they could feel his and Serena's signatures as they steadily moved closer and closer.

"Be ready," Alistair called, readying his sword. "They're coming!"

The darkspawn flooded through the door, an ogre pushing in among them. Serena looked up just in time to roll to the side, pushing the leg-holder trap across the ground in front of her to slow the horde. Pulling her bow, she fired arrow after arrow as she backed up to where Zevran was already engaged with a fat poorly armored genlock, which he easily overpowered, kicking the corpse away.

Serena turned, aiming instead for the ogre, and fired off another arrow, right into it's face. The beast howled, preparing to charge them. Pushing Zevran out of the way, she backed up, a crazy plan forming in her mind as the ogre raced towards her.

"Serena! What-"

She heard Zevran call to her as she pulled her daggers, sprinting towards the wall as the ogre growled right behind her, its stomping feet nearly shaking the ground. One, two, three huge steps and she was up the wall and flipping through the air, the ogre crashing into it below as she landed hard on its back. Slamming her daggers down into the base of the ogre's skull, she twisted them quickly before pulling them out and slamming them down again. She felt the ogre jerk beneath her once before lying still, it's horns still lodged in the wall.

"¡Mujer loca!" Zevran shouted, running over to her. "¡Usted es una mujer loca!" He shook his head, slicing his dagger down the side of the ogre to ensure it was dead, before he pulled her down off it's back. "That was marvelous, but braska, you are one crazy woman."

Slicing his way through the last of the darkspawn, Alistair ran to her, shouting obscenities. "Are you mad? You could have been killed!"

"Says the man who ran at an entire group of darkspawn not ten minutes ago," Serena replied, her hand on her hip. "Don't you lecture me about crazy, sweet prince."

Zevran laughed. "You were listening to that bit I said about keeping your wits, yes?"

"Listen, you two, I knew what I was doing. It may have appeared impulsive, but it was completely planned." Serena held out her hands. "See? Not a scratch on me." She strolled up to Alistair, putting a hand under his chin. "You, on the other hand, are bleeding."

Alistair wiped a hand across his face and grimaced, the blood smearing on his cheeks. He pulled some of the healing cream from his pack and wiped it on the cut, scowling at Serena. "You got lucky."

"Eh, maybe," Serena agreed with a small shrug. "But the good news is I didn't break my arm this time, right?" She rubbed at the ointment on Alistair's face and smiled as the cut quickly healed. "We'll stick together from now on, okay? No more heroics."

"Wardens! There is a tunnel up here," Wynne called from the next room. As Alistair and Serena entered the room, they saw Zevran was already in there, pushing uselessly against the metal door that led to the top of the tower.

"The door is blocked," the assassin said, rolling his eyes. "I cannot help but think we are being corralled into that mysterious looking hole in the ground."

Serena groaned. "Great, because that's obviously not a trap."

Wynne leaned over the side, shooting a fireball down into the gloom. Lighting it up briefly, Serena peered into the tunnel, seeing nothing but a rough stone floor. Pushing out with her senses, she felt... something... large. "Well, I'm not going to lie. There's definitely... something down there. Something corrupted by the Blight, but..."

"It's not darkspawn," Alistair finished. "Or, it's not exclusively darkspawn." He kneeled at the edge of the hole as Wynne handed him her now glowing staff, and prepared to drop into the abyss. "Well, down the hole and into the deep."

Below the tower, the tunnels were strange. The walls were covered in old Tevinter runes that even Wynne couldn't translate, but bizarrely enough, the darkspawn corruption did not extend to these lower halls. They made their way slowly through the maze of passageways, many of which were blocked by enormous boulders or thick tree roots.

Giant spiders, the 'somethings' Serena had sensed from above, lurked in many of the ceiling's large fractures. Wynne walked near the front, burning cobwebs out of their way as Serena held her bow at the ready, an arrow already nocked in preparation for any beasts that got past the mage's fireballs.

After a few encounters with the Blighted arachnids, Serena realized you could end the spiders quickly enough with an arrow to their bloated abdomens, although that tended to cause them to...

"Disgusting!" Alistair exclaimed, wiping spider entrails from his hair and shoulders. "Could we not do that again?"

"Why you do not use that shield of yours, my friend..." Zevran began with a shrug.

"I didn't think they'd bloody explode!" the templar replied, running his hands uselessly through his hair. Serena bit her lip to hold in a laugh as his fingers just caused it to push up in little spikes all over his head. "Oh, why do I even bother?"

Zevran laughed. "A question I have often asked myself. Your hair is an enigma to me, truly."

"Not all of us prefer to wear our hair in silly lady braids, I suppose. Wynne, can't you... summon some water or something?" Alistair whined. "My hair is all sticky with spider goo."

"It doesn't work like that, young man," the older mage replied, a small smile playing across her lips as she exchanged glances with Serena. "Why don't you just use your waterskin?"

"I'm all out. I was going to refill it, but the last river we passed was practically ice, and..." Alistair shrugged, obviously piqued at their lack of assistance. "I thought magic was meant to serve man..."

Taking pity on the blonde, Serena saddled up to him, opening her waterskin on his head. "That better?" Shaking like her mabari, Alistair rubbed the water into his sandy hair, nodding happily. The slick locks still stuck up all over the place, but at least now they were somewhat clean.

"I believe we are at the end of the tunnels, my friends!" Zevran shouted back to them. Serena jogged to the front of the party, her bow at the ready.

The snow-covered ground looked much the same as they'd left it, albeit this area was covered with darkspawn corpses. A massive ogre laid dead before them, two weapons protruding from its' chest, just a hundred paces from Serena's feet.

"This must be where they made their final stand," Alistair said quietly, his face looking infinitely sad. "The king and... and D-Duncan... and the rest of them." They moved through the mangled bodies, heading for the ogre. Serena could see Alistair's eyes locked on the two weapons in the beasts' chest. Her Grey Warden senses were going crazy out here however, with the taint pressing on her from all directions, pumping in her blood.

"Wardens! Hold!" Wynne cried, a bolt of lightning darting past them. Serena tackled Alistair to the ground, grabbing a rotted darkspawn shield to protect them from the bright explosion as Wynne's spell knocked into a risen genlock. "A necromancer! He is raising them from the dead!"

Pure horror was reflected back at her as Serena exchanged glances with Alistair. All around them the darkspawn rose from the ground, many of them missing arms or legs... one even missing a head. With a shriek, Serena pulled Alistair away from the ogre as it started to rise, a low growl in it's throat.

"Maker, preserve us!" Serena shouted as she kicked one of the enfeebled darkspawn away with her boot. Beside her, Alistair pulled his sword, swiping clean through the middle of a undead hurlock.

"I did not think these things could get worse," Zevran shouted from nearby, where he was spinning his two long daggers in wide arcs, battling three opponents at once. "Yet, undead, they are even more alarming, I think!"

Over their heads, another crack of lightning shot from Wynne's staff as two darkspawn dropped back into the snow, their bodies burned out husks.

"It's too many! I can't even-" Serena cursed loudly, her daggers ripping into a hurlock's chest. Flipping backwards, she pushed herself out of the way of two more darkspawn, both missing appendages, as they flailed wildly, trying to grab at her. Landing hard, she spun, sweeping one of them off its feet as she sunk her dagger into its face.

"Just keep pressing them down, Serena!" Alistair called back, his shield smashing through a trip of fat darkspawn, one of them headless and dripping black ichor. "We can't outrun this many!"

In answer to his premonition, the ogre bellowed, slamming it's fists into the ground as they felt the ground rock beneath them slightly. Serena saw Alistair turn and charge the ogre, his shield pushing the beast off it's feet again before it had a chance to move as Serena worked to make her way through the undead horde surrounding her.

"They just keep rising back up!" Serena beat down two more, only to have another darkspawn rise, a shriek this time, its claws raking across her right arm. Screaming, Serena slammed her dagger around into the fiend's neck, dropping it to the ground.

"I believe I have a solution to that," Zevran called, sprinting past the ogre and Alistair as he made his way to the stout darkspawn emissary casting at the top of the hill. Pulling one of the firebombs from his belt, he tossed it at the magic-wielding monster as another bright explosion discolored their vision.

Up on the hill, Serena could see the elven assassin rip through the charred remains of the darkspawn leader, beheading him swiftly with his crossed daggers. Her body flooded with a second wind as she pushed herself to keep fighting, to take down the rest of the darkspawn between her and Alistair.

Suddenly, she felt a spear in her side and cried out, splitting the shaft in two as she swung the broken end at the snarling genlock in front of her. "Bastards!" The shaft cracked again as it smacked into the creatures' face, the busted end of it ripping through its skin and into his skull. Kicking it to the ground, Serena brought her boot down on its face, the already damaged skull bursting apart.

Turning, she kicked out again, her side burning in pain, as she knocked the final hurlock out of her way. I have to get to him, Serena thought wildly, her body fighting her mind every second. She could see Alistair grappling with the ogre still, magical lightning singeing the great beast in multiple spots.

Coughing, Serena felt blood trickle out of her mouth as she swayed on her feet, her fingers trying to pull the spear end from her belly. "Wynne-" With a shout, she heard the mage's voice beside her, cooling magic pressing across her body as Serena wrenched the spear out of her with a scream.

The wound was still bleeding as she felt another wave of magic wash over her, her skin desperately trying to knit her insides back together. Whimpering in pain, Serena pulled her bow, falling to her knees as she nocked an arrow in it and tried to aim. Everything felt so heavy, her arms, her head... but she... had... to...

With another wrenching scream, Serena pulled the bow back and shot, the arrow landing into the leg of the ogre before she fainted into the wet snow.

Alistair had heard Serena's screams as he swung his shield in fury, stunning the ogre onto it's back. With a defiant roar, he gripped his long sword in both hands and slammed it down into the ogre's chest. Bringing it up again he stabbed it deep, the sword going down to the hilt as the ogre's body jerked in its death throes.

Beside him, Zevran appeared, his twin daggers out and covered in black ichor. With a swift nod, the assassin brought his own daggers down into the face of the ogre, a stream of thick dark ooze pushing out onto the mottled snow all around it's head.

"Serena! Oh, Maker-" The ogre forgotten for the moment, Alistair ran to her, dropping at Serena's side in the snow, her form cradled against him. "Come on, sweetheart..." She lay pathetically in his arms, her body completely limp. "I can feel your heartbeat..."

Wynne came running then, the last of the darkspawn felled behind her. As she kneeled beside them, Zevran stood nearby, his amber eyes focused on their fallen leader.

She won't die, he thought. Not here, of all places. To stave off the emotions he felt burning at his eyes, the assassin wandered over to the downed ogre, pulling Alistair's discarded long sword from the great beast's chest. As an afterthought he pulled the other two blades as well, a dagger and a long sword, both well made and nearly frozen to the touch.

Glancing at them briefly, Zevran shrugged, carrying them back to where Serena lay still in the snow, supported by Alistair, and dropped them beside the two Wardens.

"Here is your sword, my friend, as well as the two blades stuck in that filthy beast." Zevran grimaced as he took in Serena's face, dried blood around her mouth, her skin as pale as the snow around her. Wynne was sitting nearby, her eyes closed in concentration and magical blue light radiated from both her hands. "Has she...?"

"Wynne is healing her organs right now," the templar said softly. "The spear was tipped with deathroot extract, so it's... it's going slowly."

"Then perhaps I could be of more use," Zevran replied, dipping into his pack. Pulling out a small leather pouch, he tapped out two vials, eyeing each carefully. Kneeling down, he unscrewed one of the vials, sniffing it quickly, before he reached for Serena. "Hold her up straight now, I need to get some of this down her throat, and I don't want her to choke on it."

Alistair eyed the vial warily. "What is it?"

"An antidote to deathroot," the assassin replied. "In my line of work, I find it's helpful to have antidotes to many different types of poisons. Now, hold her still. She may... what is the word? Convulse."

Tipping the vial into her open mouth, Zevran and Alistair waited anxiously as the antidote worked its way through Serena's body. A slight tremor began in her muscles, but nothing terrible, nothing like Zevran had seen the last time he'd used it, anyway. With a sputtering cough, Serena's eyes opened once again and she groaned, trying to lean forward.

"Don't move so much," Alistair whispered, easing her back down. "Wynne is still healing you."

"W-what... happened?" Serena's voice was hoarse and she groaned again, a hand going to the closing wound at her side. "Ogre?"

"Dead," Alistair replied. He noticed Wynne had stopped now, and was knocking back a blue liquid from a small vial. Lyrium. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better. But I think I'm nearly mended." Serena peered at the neat hole in her leather armor, scowling slightly. "This was new, too."

"We can patch that up easily enough, my dear," Zevran added. "Do you think you can stand?" He put out a hand to her that she grasped gratefully, using his weight to pull her to her feet.

"Thanks, all of you. Bastard came out of nowhere... they just kept rising..." Serena shook her head, her blue eyes catching on the weapons Zevran had dropped. "Those. Where did you…?"

"They were already in the chest of the beast Alistair felled," the assassin replied. "Why do you ask?"

"These were Duncan's," Serena said quietly, picking up the dagger and running a finger over the inscription on the hilt. "In peace, vigilance. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice." She looked at Zevran, a tear making its way down her dirty cheek. "That's the Grey Warden motto."

She picked up the sword next, wordlessly handing it to Alistair, and he took it, his expression the precise twin of hers. Zevran watched as they grasped hands, both kneeling to the ground. Serena's voice was a bare whisper as she bowed her head and prayed.

"Sweet Maker, although his body is lost to us, we pray that You place him at Your side. Duncan was a great man, and I pray to You that we are able to carry ourselves with a fraction of his grace and ability, that we are worthy of his faith in us. Please protect him, and let him know Your love, and may he know that every day he is thought of with ours..."

Listening to her, Zevran wondered if this was a Grey Warden practice, to honor the dead, or simply part of Serena's own religious upbringing. During his weeks with her, he noticed she had a hard time letting the dead go without a quick prayer to the Maker, even if she barely knew them, as in the case with the mage, Niall.

With a choked sob, Serena stood, wrapping her arms around Alistair. The elven assassin could hear him whispering in her ear, his own tears slipping down his reddened cheeks, before Wynne politely pulled Zevran away, leaving the Wardens to their grief.