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As much Anora was a two face, the Mel wasn’t all that bothered about her ruling, she was smart and she genuinely cared about Fereldan and its people. The one request Anora had granted her, she had wanted to give the Circle of Magi independence, but she knew that that would come in its own time. The disrespect and doubts directed at the Wardens had greatly hindered them.
“For the efforts of the Wardens never to be forgotten again.”
“Of course, we shall build a memorial to Alistair and to all those that fell in battle.”
She knew she should have been happy, or at least thankful, that the archdemon is dead but in truth she doesn’t feel anything. She had always acknowledged the fact that either her or Alistair would fall but she never realized how much it would impact her.
Being raised in the tower she had plenty of friends but she had never loved someone as deeply as Alistair. She could never figure out why. He was a massive oaf and sometimes a little thick but he wasn’t as dumb as he would let on, he wasn’t a genius either. But what he lacked in brains he made up in heart, he was a good man and made an even better king, if only if he would have let her kill the archdemon.
It happened so fast, the archdemon wend down and Alistair stopped her from finishing it. A hurried conversation was the last words they had said before he rushed off. She had started to run to him when the hands of Wynne and Leliana had caught her. Wynne and Leliana had tried to stop her from watching but if that were the last time she were to see him alive she wanted to watch. Once the light had faded the hands reluctantly let go.
She didn’t know how long she had knelt over Alistair’s body. By the time the Arl had gotten there with the rest of the party, Wynne and Leliana were sitting by the door, both with empty stares at the field before them.
As soon as the door opened Barkspawn let out a happy bark and ran to her before halting abruptly and letting out a whine as he settled by her side in support.
In a way, Barkspawn had been more than her dog; he was Alistair’s too. She had no idea what a suitable name for a dog was so she asked Alistair, and he spouted that stupid name. Alistair was funny too.
When the Arl saw he just stood there, like a statue, as tears worked their way down his face. Eventually everyone in the team had formed an arch around her and Alistair, just standing there. The Arl broke the silence and everyone had begun to move around doing various things. She stroked the mabari’s back, a sign that she wanted him to stay by her.
They gave Alistair a king’s funeral but she could not bring herself to say anything.
Wynne had approached her afterwards. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine the way you feel right now.
Mel clutched at a book with a single dried rose in it, his rose.
She had sent him off with a rose, one just like the one he had given her.
“You can’t just mope around.”
Mel turned her head, Wynne was there.
“Theres no point to it… besides… would Alistair want to see you acting like this? He died so you could live, so you could be happy, so we could all live and be happy. He wouldn’t want you to be like this. He would want you to live, to help people, to be happy.”
“I know.”
“You knew right from the start of your relationship that one of you may die. I'm not telling you to get over it, I know you love him, but you have a duty to do. We are here for a few more days yet, use that time to grieve because you may not get to do so for quite some time.” The mage turned to leave, “and remember, you're not the only one who’s grieving and you have friends, use them.”
As she walked away Mel risked a glance over her shoulder. Wynne walked slower than usual her head was down. Mel turned back to the river.
There had been so many things left unsaid, so many things she never got around to telling him. Like how she sacrificed a child for her own selfish desire for power.
Becoming a blood mage was not something she had done lightly, she felt dirty afterwards but she doesn’t regret it completely, the powers were beyond useful. She never told anyone and tried not to use blood magic too much but of course Wynne and Morrigan had noticed. Maker knows why Wynne stayed, Morrigan was almost beaming, the paragon Grey Warden was a blood mage.
She had lost two people who meant the world to her in the span of 24 hours.
She had always been cautious of Morrigan’s intentions but she was one of her greatest friends, she would trust Morrigan with her life, and she has.
It was so hard to watch her go. The Warden had planned on taking her to fight the archdemon. But when Morrigan approached her about a child she didn’t know how she felt about Morrigan and Alistair, but she knew she was worried. Worried that that would mark the end of their relationship. She’s still not sure if she regrets the decision she made, too many unknowns.
“Hey.”
An all too different yet familiar accent reached the her ears.
“Wynne said you weren’t up for talking, so I’ll do that.”
Leliana sat down besides the Warden and over looked the lake as she spoke.
“To lose a loved one is a terrible thing, but to lose one to such a noble cause is not so bad.”
“I didn’t have to lose him. It could have been me. He could have been a good king without dying.”
“Maybe, but maybe he would have been in the same state you are. What good is a king in this state?”
“What good is a queen who puts self preservation above what’s right?”
“I didn’t come to fight. Just know that if you need anything I'm right here.” With that, Leliana got up and left.
How would Alistair have reacted to her being a blood mage? Would it have ended their relationship? Would he have hated her? Killed her? Would she have ran? Or let him kill her? Because she would not fight him.
“So the beautiful hero of Fereldan, sitting by the lake and not reaping the… benefits… of such a title.”
“Hello Zevran.”
Zevran lay on the grass with his hands behind his head.
“Why so glum? Hm? You have most of Fereldan at your finger tips, if it were me, I would definitely be taking advantage.”
“Bet you would.” And Mel smiled for the first time in quite a while. As stupid as it sounds she always enjoyed his storied about his ‘adventures’, they were just the right balance between cheeky asshole and friend.
“Made a bet with Oghren to make you smile, he owes me a drink.”
“He's probably drinking it now.”
“Ah, you're probably right. But it is nice to see you smile, you should do it more.”
Her face fell, whatever brief escape that was, it was gone now.
“You know… I've heard that despite the Templars, mages still get it on.”
“Hah… yeah.”
“So enough with my stories, tell me yours.”
“Not a chance Zevran.”
“Oh come on!” He sat up with a bolt.
“Well… this one time two of my friends asked if I could distract the Templars while they…”
“So what did you do?”
“He was new to the tower, didn’t really know what mages could do… so I flirted with him.”
“And did this flirtation bear fruit?”
“Not in his life. Too stupid.”
“Guess your tolerance level went up then… anything else? Did you ever get yours?”
“I was locked in a tower with a lot of people, what do you think?”
“Well, with a face and body like yours, who could say no?”
“Not a damn soul I asked.”
They were both smirking by now, looking at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They broke the stare at the same time, her looking back at the lake, him flopping back down.
A few minutes of silence passed.
“How do you not get emotionally attached?”
“Well, it helps if you don’t think about their emotions, and don’t think about future plans with them. Live in the now.”
“Thanks.” She doesn’t know why she said that, maybe just to move the conversation along.
Zevran sat up and leaned towards her, “you know, its not exactly inspiring to see the hero of Fereldan and the last Grey Warden so glum.”
“I’m not a hero.”
“You may not have delivered the final blow, but you united Fereldan. That’s something to be proud of.”
“And what do I do now?”
“I would say you’ve earned a rest, but the rest of Fereldan would disagree. They would have you start to rebuild the Grey Wardens to inspire people. They would say you still have much work to do.”
“They would be right.”
“But at least they have given you a few days.”
There was another silence as they overlooked the lake.
“I’d better get that drink from Oghren before he drinks it.”
Zevran rose and once he had taken a few steps she whispered “thanks” he heard it but didn’t acknowledge it. He just smiled and kept waking.
‘The hero of Fereldan’ the words felt dirty. It was true that a living hero is better for moral but she was not the hero, that was Alistair, and it always would be.
“I know I'm the last person you want to see.”
Anora stood just to her left and on the edge of her peripheral vision.
“I know it’s hard to lose the one you love to the blight.”
And then it hit her. Anora had lost Cailan, her husband that she had known since childhood, but why she still loved her father she would never know.
“But both you and I have a duty to do. I’ve been able to give you a few days. Use it to grieve, because when you leave you will have to do your duty.”
“I don’t hate you as much as you think.”
“Nor I you.”
“While you value self preservation above most things I know you love Fereldan and will do well as its queen.”
“And your sense of justice can blind you of things that are of use to you and I have never truly forgiven you for killing my father, I don’t think I ever will. But… I know you will do what’s right.”
“And I've never fully trusted you after siding with him.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Well I've said my piece. Your friends have asked me to wish you well. You will not be bothered here again.”
Anora started to walk away but stopped when the Warden spoke.
“Anora… thanks. I hope we can put what happened behind us and move on to build a better future.”
“I hope the same.” And she was gone.
The hours went on and she wasn’t bothered again. She guessed they had all gotten together and talked about who would go and talk to her.
They were right of course, she did have a duty to do and as much as she didn’t want to, she had to do it. Anora had been thoughtful in buying her these few days.
When it was complete, the Mel went and paid her respects to the statue dedicated to Alistair and the rest who had died.
She had half expected, half hoped it would be of Alistair himself. Something to remind people of ages to come that he was the hero. But when she found it wasn’t she was half relieved that whenever she came here she wouldn’t see his likeness in a statue. She didn’t like seeing a statue of Loghain’s likeness either; it was a young Loghain, when he was a hero at least.
What she found instead was a basic long sword and mage’s staff. It was a sentimental thing of Anora to, it was almost as painful as seeing a statue of Alistair’s likeness. But for what she thought was the first time there was a statue that commemorated mages alongside swordsmanship. She knew it would be a long road and she wouldn’t be able to shut down like she had before.
As she left the memorial she made a strict promise to Alistair that she would make the most of her life. She would go on as Warden-Commander and do the best she could to protect Fereldan and make Alistair proud.