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She did not want to die.
When she had offered to slay the Archdemon herself, it was because she thought it was expected of her. Grey Wardens were supposed to be brave, weren’t they? They did not falter at the prospect of death. Nevertheless, a weight had lifted off her shoulders when Riordan had said he’d be the one to kill the beast.
But Riordan had failed in his task and now it was her responsibility to see this through. Maker, why did everything fall to her?
Had it not been for Sten the battle would have been lost. The qunari was everywhere at once; manning the ballistae, keeping foes off of Wynne while she healed wounds, keeping darkspawn occupied while Leliana and Solona rained them with arrows and spells respectively. He was the one who truly vanquished the Archdemon.
She had returned him Asala and he had granted her a chance at victory.
And now the Archdemon was lying atop Fort Drakon blind in one eye, its wings in tatters. This was her chance to strike, before the beast’s strength returned.
The mere thought of what was to come filled her with dread. Riordan had explained what happened when an Archdemon was slain, and while this knowledge brought her comfort, it was coupled with fear.
Perhaps she should not have been so quick to refuse Morrigan’s offer... Perhaps then she would have marched into battle fearlessly, knowing the Archdemon would not claim her life or Alistair’s. It did not matter. What’s done is done, she thought.
Somehow, however, she felt… incomplete. Empty. There were so many things she had not done, had not seen. The world was full of wonders and she had been locked in a tower for most of her life until all that ugliness with Jowan. Then Duncan recruited her and she had been too busy trying to stop the Blight to see - really see - the world.
And what of her friends? This disparate group of people she’d never imagined she would meet, let alone befriend. She had not told them what they truly meant to her and now she never would.
It was Alistair she would miss the most. As the King of Ferelden, he was leading Denerim’s defense. Had she not insisted that he stay behind, he’d be fighting by her side. She recalled his face for a moment and she felt a plethora of conflicting emotions.
They had been together until he was crowned. Then he had said their relationship would have to come to an end, for he was King and his duty was paramount. She had nodded her understanding. She only wished they had not spent those last few days avoiding one another.
Taking a steadying breath, she looked about her. The battle was not over yet. There were darkspawn aplenty to slay. Solona looked at the fallen all around her, people and darkspawn alike. The Blight had claimed so many. It was a Grey Warden’s duty to put an end to all this death and ruin.
And, Maker take her, she was a Grey Warden.
With renewed resolve, she dropped her staff and grabbed a blade from a fallen soldier, muttering a short prayer under her breath. The sword felt heavy in her hand, awkward, clumsy, inelegant. Then again, she could not imagine any other way of slaying such a beast.
The Archdemon lifted its head and roared, a weak echo of its previously fearsome cries.
Solona charged.
She was willing to give her life to save Thedas. A long time ago, it would have seemed too great a price to pay, but now she realized it really wasn’t. One life in exchange for thousands – it was a bargain.
She lifted the sword above her head with both hands, surprised by her own strength. And in that moment, she felt light as a feather, as if everything else had melted away and there was only her, the blade and the beast.
In that moment she felt powerful, for she held the fate of the world in the palm of her hand. She was the key to the end of the Blight. Everything since her recruitment, since Ostagar seemed to have led up to this. She had been crushed on the Anvil of the Void only to be forged anew.
With a smile on her face and lightness in her heart, she plunged the blade in the Archdemon’s head. The beast howled in pain and then a blinding light enveloped her as the beast collapsed at her feet. She fell to her knees a moment later, the corruption spreading swiftly through her.
Death was coming for her and Morrigan’s words echoed in her mind. Then you are a fool. Maker, was she? Doubt gnawed at her and tears prickled her eyes. She could not breathe, she could barely see.
I’m sorry.
She died and the apology died with her.