The Warden's Death

Nathaniel came just in time. The ogre was about to crush her when he sent an arrow straight through its heart. The ogre fell on to a rock and remained still.

"Nathaniel", she whispered, reaching out for him.

He rushed to her side and held her in his arms. "Why did you do that? Did you think that leaving a note would suffice? The whole castle was worried! And look what you did to yourself! I need to get you back into the castle immediately, get you some healing magic."

"No, Nathaniel. This is it. This is the calling. This is my end."

"That is not true, there should be 30 years... 30 years after the joining to---", her finger on his lips stopped him from speaking.

"I've... wanted this to happen. I've... waited for this to happen. My life has... ended 3 years ago after... Alistair's death. Now I would be... able to see him again", she is choking on her own blood now, and Nathaniel felt the blood gush from her leg. She was bleeding everywhere. He looked around, hoping for a sign of a mage or a bottle of healing potion--anyone, anything who can heal her, but there was nothing. He sat there helpless, his love in his arms. There is nothing he can do now.

He touched her face lovingly. "I...thank you, thank you for sparing me and helping me redeem my family's name." Tears were welling up in his eyes. He hesitated and finally spoke: "I love you."

She smiled at him. "Thank you...for being a very... dear friend, Nathaniel." With difficulty, she moved her hand to touch his face. Nathaniel pressed her hand firmly against his face and savored the warmth emanating from it. He saw her eyes close and her hand felt heavy, but he kept it on his skin. He leaned over, his whole body trembling as he kissed her. "Goodbye, Marri."

Destroyed

...but Wynne says otherwise.

I agree with her, not because it is the rational choice. I would like to believe that someday, we will be together. I do not care how long it takes or how treacherous the path may be. If this is the only way that will bring me back to your arms, then so be it.

Morphling

Saw this at work today:

“Self-pity is easily the most destructive of the nonpharmaceutical narcotics; it is addictive, gives momentary pleasure and separates the victim from reality.”
-John W. Gardner

Does "self" include your alter-ego who is supposedly mad at you for killing her one true love?

Taint

The Warden stood on the edge of the castle bridge overlooking Ostagar. It seemed as if it was only yesterday when she met him there for the first time. She remembered seeing him talking with a mage who did not seem too happy with his presence. He was a templar after all, so even his attempts at humor did not work on the mage. His memories have always brought a smile to her face, but reality swooped down on her and it felt like a knife stabbing her heart. She leaned on the brick wall and felt herself slide down. She suddenly felt someone put their arms on her shoulders. She looked up to see a pair of friendly green eyes.

"Wynne", she said.

She buried her face into Wynne's shoulders, tears streaming down her face. "It hurts. It still hurts so much, even after all these years".

Wynne held her close. It has been three years since Alistair's death, and she has just received Leliana's message about the Warden's dwindling condition. She has decided to travel back to Denerim to accompany their friend. The nightmares have become more frequent, and the servants have reported the Warden waking up in the middle of the night crying, calling for her beloved.

Wynne stroke her friend's hair. It will be over soon, child. I promise.