Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Trigger warnings for suicide, implied miscarriage/abortion, death and violence. Last chapter! Thanks for following, liking, kudos, reviewing and everything else!

…

An End to Things, Once and For All

Mara had thought Ostagar Blighted and unpleasant but the true reality of the archdemon's rise – a fetid wind from a sky the red-purple of bruised flesh only the harbinger of the tainted, rotting monstrosity – proved her wrong. The soldiers in charge of the siege equipment wore vinegar-soaked rags on their faces, forcing themselves to ignore the dead and dying soldiers that followed Cailan as their only duty was to bring down the archdemon for the Wardens to finish.

Then Duncan, grieving desperate Duncan, launched himself from the tower in a swan-dive and shredded one of the archdemon's wings, bringing it crashing to the courtyard of Fort Drakon. Mara ordered everyone to get out of the way as it was the Wardens' show now with the troops providing only support. The deathblow had to be struck by the Grey Wardens.

Jowan was the first through the door with Fergus, Morrigan and Zevran at his heels. "Does anyone object to blood magic to help end this?" the maleficar asked with a hint of acidity.

"Kill it and be done," Alistair retorted, voice hoarse. He looked like a darkspawn himself, red and orange with a Reaver's rage twisting his handsome features.

The maleficar bowed his head mockingly to the Prince and stabbed his knife through his palm, tendrils of blood magic swirling around the form of the archdemon as it belched purple flame at its attackers. Much to Mara's surprise, there was Amund in the group that poured through the door, and a tall, gaunt elven mage in a Keeper's robe. They worked to keep the darkspawn breaking through the doors and she pulled herself together, ordering the arbalests to shred the archdemon's wings some more with their heavy bolts.

Morrigan assumed swarm form and left stripped darkspawn bones in her wake as Jowan fought to keep the archdemon bound beneath ropes of blood, the lingering life force of the fallen soldiers drawn by a second spell to power the maleficar's awesome spell. Daveth, his nose bloody and looking like death warmed over by buying them a full day, lingered by the door to no doubt let someone else take the deathblow. Mara couldn't fault him for it.

"Hold fire!" Mara commanded, her throat on fire from shouting so much. She pulled out the last dregs of the potion Wynne gave her to soothe her throat and swallowed it. "It's the Wardens' show now! Cailan, Anora, Alistair – get off the fucking roof!"

Even bound by blood magic, the archdemon was hard to kill, its purple fire a deadly deterrent. The elven mage died in blistering agony, a better fate than the Blight, and the archdemon's tail flung Amund back to land heavily on his back with the crack of ribs. Mara let the soldiers flee without complaint, two of them dragging Amund back into the tower and Cailan and Anora wisely going with them. Alistair looked over his shoulder, hesitating, and then ran inside.

Mara sighed. That ship had sailed. But someone had to witness this and who better than her?

"Get to the door, Mara!" Riordan yelled. "When the archdemon is slain, there will be a great burst of energy."

So she obeyed, slamming the doors shut and leaning against them, watching as the Wardens hacked the archdemon into nigh-death.

Morrigan had assumed human form again and was shaping complex gestures with her fingers by the door, watching the Wardens intently as they argued amongst themselves. Zevran was pointing to the archdemon and barking at Fergus while her brother shook his head stubbornly. Finally Zevran snarled in disgust, grabbed a sword, and ran up to finish the beast.

As soon as he plunged the weapon into the beast's head, a great light illuminated his form and Mara quickly opened the door. "Go, go!" she ordered the Wardens.

Just before the light engulfed the courtyard, she saw Fergus face the shockwave of force with a smile and let himself get thrown from the top of Fort Drakon. Then she and Daveth slammed the doors shut and felt the energy batter them before absolute silence fell.

It was an end to things, once and for all.

…

Of course, with the archdemon dead, there were things to be done. Mara existed on nervous energy as she arranged healers for the surviving Wardens and Morrigan, who had suffered a vicious blow to the midsection, as Jowan briefed the others on what had happened. Riordan looked stunned and then thoughtful, nodding in his deliberate manner, as Carver and Cauthrien both looked decidedly unhappy and Oghren simply shrugged. Nate was nowhere to be found. Somehow Morrigan had found a way to cheat the end which faced the Warden who slew the archdemon and Jowan made sure that the monster was dead, its soul banished to the Fade. She found herself keeping another secret close to her heart because how else to ensure peace and security? The Wardens were needed as the Thaw would linger for years yet and her sword-oath still held, at least in her eyes.

She gladly relinquished command to Anora and Cailan, heading back out into the courtyard to behold the rotting archdemon's corpse. Every bit of blood would be drained from the beast to make future generations of Wardens, every scrap of flesh wrung dry, and Mara almost wished she could make a study of it herself.

"The deathblow will be assigned to Fergus," Riordan said from behind her. "Zevran had no desire to answer awkward questions at the hands of the Orlesian and Free Marcher Wardens and… the Cousland name ended in honour. It's what Bryce and Eleanor would have wanted."

"I doubt that greatly," Mara said with a sigh. "I will say nothing."

"I know." Riordan watched Jowan work his magic, gathering the oily blood of the archdemon into one great iron vessel for transport. "I will be Warden-Commander of Ferelden. We will need to reclaim Warden's Peak in the Arling of Amaranthine for our new base, though we'll be maintaining the compound in Denerim. Cauthrien will be Warden-Constable of Denerim because of her close relationship with the Crown and Carver will answer to her. Daveth has elected to reclaim Griffin's Rock in the Korcari Wilds and establish the order amongst the Chasind and Avvar. Zevran, Jowan and Oghren will be remaining with me."

"I will establish a half-tithe for the Wardens," Mara assured him hoarsely. "I'd split the Chantry tithe, but if I did that, I'd get excommunicated and couldn't hold Amaranthine after that."

"Thank you." Riordan echoed her previous sigh. "It will be a long struggle, but we will rebuild. Get some rest. You've earned it."

Mara nodded and left the courtyard. Of course, she wouldn't rest until she dropped of exhaustion. Miles to go and all that shit before she could sleep.

…

"Arlessa?"

The Iron Bull (Maker forbid that she should forget the article) and Thom Rainier approached, forcing Mara to swallow another sigh. Two days after the archdemon's death and the surviving populace was herded into the Noble's Quarter as the mages burned the rest of the city to be rid of the taint. Cailan and Anora were already making plans for a new Denerim to raise from the ashes while speculators and slumlords were already attempting to hike the price of tent canvas to exorbitant levels. For some bloody reason, the co-monarchs seemed to think she could put a stop to it.

Mara didn't want to be bloody Chancellor, though Alistair had accepted the command of the army. It was bad enough she was Admiral, which meant she would need to come to Denerim at least four times a year to work with Alistair. It was bad enough that Amaranthine was in a bloody shambles. The only nobility with more work than her were Teagan, Arl Gallagher Wulffe, and Arl Leonas Bryland.

A King's gratitude is as short as a dwarf's legs, Mara thought wryly, recalling the old Alamarri proverb. She had literally talked herself mute dissuading the pair of them and putting Oswyn of Dragon's Peak forward as both Arl of Denerim and Chancellor; he may have lost the use of his legs thanks to Howe but he retained his full set of wits, and would need to be kept busy to avoid falling into despair. Once she left for Amaranthine with the Wardens at the end of the month, she hoped her suggestion would take.

She realised that the Bull and Thom were staring at her pointedly and she sighed once more. "What?" she croaked, not sounding particularly gracious about it.

"Is it true we're getting Vigil's Keep?" the Tal-Vashoth asked.

"Yeah. I need to stay in Amaranthine, be close to the sea."

"Our very own fortress," the Bull said with a smile. "Fergus offered us a sovereign a head and one percent of the loot!"

Thom regarded her silently for a moment before saying, "I'd like to transfer to the Amaranthine militia. The leadership loyal to Rendon needs to be purged and that means you'll have no competent, trustworthy commanders."

"Why?" Mara asked.

"Bull and I can't decide who should run the mercenary company and I don't take orders from fellow mercs well," Thom admitted dryly as the Bull smirked. "The second is that you're a leader worth following."

Mara doubted that. She had to yell herself hoarse to get the soldiers to move and even now, Loghain's prophecy about her being renowned for cold pragmatic efficiency was being fulfilled.

"Alright," she agreed. The problem with Tal-Vashoth was that they could be Viddathari, spies for the Qunari, but she needed the Bull and his men. Thom Rainier had won the great melee at the Grand Tourney and some people were impressed by that. Mara cared only that he was a decent commander who seemed fairly trustworthy.

"Good. Come by the Chargers' camp later. I have a drink called maraas-lok that will put some chest on your chest." The Iron Bull grinned, slapped Thom on the shoulder and gave Mara a little pat that still staggered, and ambled away to return to his men.

"Watch it, that stuff will turn you mute permanently, my lady," Thom said ruefully.

"Is that why your voice rasps nearly as bad as mine?" she asked.

Her new commander smirked. "Nah, yelling at that big horned idiot to not engage ogres alone during the battle for Denerim did that."

Mara found a laugh as he bowed, took her hand and kissed it in the Free Marcher style – on the palm instead of the back of the hand as the Orlesians did – and left to no doubt see which of the Chargers (and his Riders) wanted to settle down in Amaranthine.

Within a few moments Alistair rounded the corner, no doubt eavesdropping. For all the Teyrn of Gwaren's vaunted honour, he was adapting swiftly to the necessities of court politics as Cailan's right-hand man. Mara looked at him, resplendent in fine hound-hide trimmed with fennec fur with the diadem of a Prince on his forehead, and realised that she felt… not nothing, but certainly no love. There was regret there and perhaps a trace of lingering affection, but he had changed enough as a person that the bond which was forged from Ostagar to Orzammar was gone. This man, the hard-eyed commander who took pleasure in battle yet decried Mara's efficiency in keeping casualties to a minimum, wasn't one she could love despite his many virtues of loyalty, courage and charisma.

Elf-gold eyes watched her steadily, his face neutral, and Mara sighed. "I don't hold a grudge against you for ending the marriage," she rasped aloud. "I would have done so, sooner rather than later. I also apologise for having you stripped of your Teyrnship over the Avvar at the Landsmeet. That was pettiness on my part, to do it so."

"So I pre-empted your decision then," Alistair noted, a flash of hurt in his eyes. "You gave up before I did."

"Perhaps I did," Mara agreed. "Our marriage was doomed once I was shot in the gut. I wish it had ended on a better note though. For a while, in Orzammar, I truly loved you."

"And I you." Alistair shrugged his broad shoulders. "There is no quarrel between us. Even keep the marriage-gift. Amund told me to tell you that you are welcome amongst the Holds."

"Thank you, Alistair," Mara replied. Even as a Teyrn of the Alamarri, Alistair was still very much an Avvar, and amongst the Avvar nothing lasted forever.

He turned away without a farewell and Mara watched him leave with a sense of relief. An end to things, once and for all. Ferelden would limp along but soon the kingdom would heal.

As she would heal, the wounds of the past closing into aching scars. Cailan had insisted on giving her a new surname – Mac Farraige, 'Daughter of the Sea', because Delilah Howe had requested she not bear the surname.

Mara Mac Farraige smiled and turned for the palace. An end to things, once and for all, even her pain and grief.