Warden's Duty: A Dragon Age Origins Story
Cyane’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes locked on the Archdemon’s. A mutual understanding passed between them. It was the understanding of one looking at one’s death. Cyane knew she would kill the Archdemon, it was her fate. And by an ironic twist of that same fate she would lose her own life. One life sacrificed for the sake of thousands…then her choice had been made for her: she would gladly give her life. She might have been raised to survive in a city filled with crime and she had been treated as filth by every human she had encountered within this city. And yet here she was giving her life to save it.
“I will not let the one good thing in my life be thrown away.” Her words from a few nights ago echoed in her mind. She swallowed and steeled herself. “Alistair, I’m sorry.” She’d whispered to him on their last night together. He had been asleep snorting softly looking innocent and charming in the same manner. She had made her decision. “You will make a great king.”
The Archdemon roared breaking her from her thoughts. Cyane’s violet eyes widened as she clenched her long sword tightly in her hands. Looking at her from a distance no one would have seen the tremble in her hands as she gazed upon her death. Even if her companions looked up from their desperate fights they would have seem an undaunted and determined Grey Warden.
But her hands were shaking almost uncontrollably and sweat poured down her face in rivers drenching her underclothes and padding. She didn’t really want to die, not now, not when she had finally started living her life. Before she was dutiful and obedient daughter, her mother’s skills wasted on her as she was to marry and find a worthy job. Yet all that had changed, now she was a Grey Warden responsible for stopping the Blight. She stood between the world and destruction, while scared to die she couldn’t have asked for a better ending to her tale. She would die a hero. The world would cherish her family name for years to come. She would at least do right by them with her death.
Bracing herself she slide her feet a little further apart and hefted her sword. She let out a breath and grinned. “Let’s end this.” She said the words out loud though she wasn’t certain if the Archdemon understood their meaning. She darted forward long sword held at the ready.
The dragon sensing its own end reared its head and tried to stand once again. Roaring again in pain and anger it whipped around snapping its giant maw shut. Cyane ducked the massive teeth and thrust her sword skyward.
Her blade pierced the tender flesh under the Archdemon’s throat spraying Cyane with black ichors. Ignoring the gore covering her, Cyane continued moving slicing a ravine down the beast’s long neck.
Bellowing the Archdemon tried futilely to move away from her, but its struggles were in vain as its front legs gave out and it crashed to the ground. The ground shuddered under Cyane’s feet as she rolled clear of the giant creature. Coming to her feet with grace and ease she spun around. Stalking over to the Archdemon head, it blinked an eye at her. Its breath was raspy and jagged and blood oozed from its nostrils and mouth. The creature’s jaw opened and closed quickly with each breath. Cyane wiped the back of her hand across her eyes as she stepped up to the terribly beautiful beast. Her blood hummed in her ears. Her own breathing was labored and her shoulders ached from swinging her sword back and forth hacking away at darkspawn.
“On this day find your peace.” She whispered the words as she positioned the tip of sword directly above the Archdemon’s round black eye. “Sleep deeply and dream of forgotten places.” She plunged the sword downward with all her might. The eye burst and clear fluid mixed with black blood sprang forth. The sword bit hard, sliding through muscle, sinew and finally the Archdemon’s brain, ending it.
A brilliant white light flashed before Cyane’s eyes as a jolt of lighting coursed through her body. Her hands seemed fixed to her weapon as she felt the dragon’s body shudder. The beast’s last breath whooshed out of its dying lungs and then Cyane could feel herself ebbing away.
At first it was like warming one’s hands in front of a fire; soft, warm and inviting. But then the closer her hands got the hotter the flames felt. The pain started in her hands and worked its way through her entire body. Searing and blinding she bit her lip to keep from crying out. But as the heat reached her chest and heart her resolve faltered and she screamed out in agony. Her hands were still glued to her sword and the white light overwhelmed her.
Suddenly a crushing force threw her backwards and she felt herself hit the ground. The breath was knocked from her lungs. She tried to suck in another lung full of air, but couldn’t. Panic gripped her mind. This was it! She had killed the Archdemon. The Blight was over and she was dying. She tried to will herself to move. Her arm, then her leg, and then her head. Nothing. Her body refused to respond to her commands.
Dammit, I don’t want to die like this! Why can’t I move! Move dammit move! I’m stronger than this I can beat this. Her mind whirled with thoughts. But her body never listened. Darkness pressed at the edges of her consciousness threatening to plunge her into eternal darkness.
I can’t…I just can’t. I’m sorry, Alistair. Please forgive me. She felt her body relax. The searing heat was gone replaced only with a heavy weariness. I just need to rest. I will…rest…yes, just for a moment. Then I will…then I will
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Alistair stood starring down at Cyane’s lifeless form. She looked to be sleeping. Her face was smooth, gone were the worry lines and fear no longer clouded her features. She was beautiful even in death. He took a moment to compose himself. He must face her family soon. He would have to tell them how valiantly their beloved daughter and cousin had died saving them all. He would approach them as not their king, but as an equal. He would speak to them as a Cyane’s friend and lover. For he had loved her, cherished her and he had not wanted her to go he had pleaded with her to take him. But she had refused him knowing full well that he would have forced her to let him make the final blow.
“You will not begin your reign as King just to have your first act to be dying for your country. You will need to be strong and survive. It’s not an easy job, Alistair, but someone has to do it.” She smiled at him. “But I believe in you. You can do this.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Even when I’m gone I’ll still have faith in you.”
He could still remember the feel of her lips on his that last night they had been together. He could see the light of life in her violet eyes as they made love for the last time.
He had not wanted her to do this. He did not want to be left alone in the world. But in the end she was right. He could do this even if the brightest spot in his life had been snuffed out. He would continue on and he would survive. He would do what was right for all the people of Ferelden not just the humans, but the dwarves, elves, and Maker knew who else.
“Pleasant dreams, my rose.” He whispered his voice breaking only slightly. He reached out and laid a single red rose atop her cold clammy hands.
“I will not let the one good thing in my life be thrown away.” Her words from a few nights ago echoed in her mind. She swallowed and steeled herself. “Alistair, I’m sorry.” She’d whispered to him on their last night together. He had been asleep snorting softly looking innocent and charming in the same manner. She had made her decision. “You will make a great king.”
The Archdemon roared breaking her from her thoughts. Cyane’s violet eyes widened as she clenched her long sword tightly in her hands. Looking at her from a distance no one would have seen the tremble in her hands as she gazed upon her death. Even if her companions looked up from their desperate fights they would have seem an undaunted and determined Grey Warden.
But her hands were shaking almost uncontrollably and sweat poured down her face in rivers drenching her underclothes and padding. She didn’t really want to die, not now, not when she had finally started living her life. Before she was dutiful and obedient daughter, her mother’s skills wasted on her as she was to marry and find a worthy job. Yet all that had changed, now she was a Grey Warden responsible for stopping the Blight. She stood between the world and destruction, while scared to die she couldn’t have asked for a better ending to her tale. She would die a hero. The world would cherish her family name for years to come. She would at least do right by them with her death.
Bracing herself she slide her feet a little further apart and hefted her sword. She let out a breath and grinned. “Let’s end this.” She said the words out loud though she wasn’t certain if the Archdemon understood their meaning. She darted forward long sword held at the ready.
The dragon sensing its own end reared its head and tried to stand once again. Roaring again in pain and anger it whipped around snapping its giant maw shut. Cyane ducked the massive teeth and thrust her sword skyward.
Her blade pierced the tender flesh under the Archdemon’s throat spraying Cyane with black ichors. Ignoring the gore covering her, Cyane continued moving slicing a ravine down the beast’s long neck.
Bellowing the Archdemon tried futilely to move away from her, but its struggles were in vain as its front legs gave out and it crashed to the ground. The ground shuddered under Cyane’s feet as she rolled clear of the giant creature. Coming to her feet with grace and ease she spun around. Stalking over to the Archdemon head, it blinked an eye at her. Its breath was raspy and jagged and blood oozed from its nostrils and mouth. The creature’s jaw opened and closed quickly with each breath. Cyane wiped the back of her hand across her eyes as she stepped up to the terribly beautiful beast. Her blood hummed in her ears. Her own breathing was labored and her shoulders ached from swinging her sword back and forth hacking away at darkspawn.
“On this day find your peace.” She whispered the words as she positioned the tip of sword directly above the Archdemon’s round black eye. “Sleep deeply and dream of forgotten places.” She plunged the sword downward with all her might. The eye burst and clear fluid mixed with black blood sprang forth. The sword bit hard, sliding through muscle, sinew and finally the Archdemon’s brain, ending it.
A brilliant white light flashed before Cyane’s eyes as a jolt of lighting coursed through her body. Her hands seemed fixed to her weapon as she felt the dragon’s body shudder. The beast’s last breath whooshed out of its dying lungs and then Cyane could feel herself ebbing away.
At first it was like warming one’s hands in front of a fire; soft, warm and inviting. But then the closer her hands got the hotter the flames felt. The pain started in her hands and worked its way through her entire body. Searing and blinding she bit her lip to keep from crying out. But as the heat reached her chest and heart her resolve faltered and she screamed out in agony. Her hands were still glued to her sword and the white light overwhelmed her.
Suddenly a crushing force threw her backwards and she felt herself hit the ground. The breath was knocked from her lungs. She tried to suck in another lung full of air, but couldn’t. Panic gripped her mind. This was it! She had killed the Archdemon. The Blight was over and she was dying. She tried to will herself to move. Her arm, then her leg, and then her head. Nothing. Her body refused to respond to her commands.
Dammit, I don’t want to die like this! Why can’t I move! Move dammit move! I’m stronger than this I can beat this. Her mind whirled with thoughts. But her body never listened. Darkness pressed at the edges of her consciousness threatening to plunge her into eternal darkness.
I can’t…I just can’t. I’m sorry, Alistair. Please forgive me. She felt her body relax. The searing heat was gone replaced only with a heavy weariness. I just need to rest. I will…rest…yes, just for a moment. Then I will…then I will
________________________________________________________________________
Alistair stood starring down at Cyane’s lifeless form. She looked to be sleeping. Her face was smooth, gone were the worry lines and fear no longer clouded her features. She was beautiful even in death. He took a moment to compose himself. He must face her family soon. He would have to tell them how valiantly their beloved daughter and cousin had died saving them all. He would approach them as not their king, but as an equal. He would speak to them as a Cyane’s friend and lover. For he had loved her, cherished her and he had not wanted her to go he had pleaded with her to take him. But she had refused him knowing full well that he would have forced her to let him make the final blow.
“You will not begin your reign as King just to have your first act to be dying for your country. You will need to be strong and survive. It’s not an easy job, Alistair, but someone has to do it.” She smiled at him. “But I believe in you. You can do this.” She kissed him lightly on the lips. “Even when I’m gone I’ll still have faith in you.”
He could still remember the feel of her lips on his that last night they had been together. He could see the light of life in her violet eyes as they made love for the last time.
He had not wanted her to do this. He did not want to be left alone in the world. But in the end she was right. He could do this even if the brightest spot in his life had been snuffed out. He would continue on and he would survive. He would do what was right for all the people of Ferelden not just the humans, but the dwarves, elves, and Maker knew who else.
“Pleasant dreams, my rose.” He whispered his voice breaking only slightly. He reached out and laid a single red rose atop her cold clammy hands.