Part the First: In which Alistair, the Warden King, bids farewell to Queen Anora and departs for the Deep Roads.

She slew the beast and so she died,
Or so the minstrels sing.
And with her final breath she cried
"Ferelden and the King!"

The king had loved her; brave, and kind,
And lovely she had been.
But Warden's taint and mage's staff
Meant she could not be Queen.

He said to her, "It cannot be,"
And sent her from the room.
For all his life it haunted him;
He'd sent her to her doom.

A Warden's hand must strike the blow
To end that fearsome Blight.
He thought to have that death, but then
She took it as her right.

They called her hero, she who saved
The land from Blight and fear.
They cheered the King, who wept and laid
Red roses on her bier.

He married of necessity;
Anora was his bride.
For thirty years they ruled the kingdom
Wisely, side by side.

His sleep had always troubled him
With blood and rage and screams.
It is a Warden's lot to see
The darkspawn in his dreams.

The dreams that dogged his nights - and days -
Had never been this bad.
The dragons roared, the demons laughed.
He feared he would go mad.

One night a spirit came to him,
Her hair as white as snow.
"It is your time," her kind voice said,
"And she is waiting. Go."

To Orzammar, to the Deep Roads,
To die there in the fight,
As Wardens must; and so he made
To slip away at night.

No ceremonies would there be,
No songs, no bells to ring.
The people would not let him go.
They loved their gallant king.

A brace of magic swords had he.
He left them at the keep
But one: Yusaris, for to slay
The dragons in the deep.

Out through the palace garden gate
He made to pass unseen.
But someone waited there; he was
Confronted by his Queen.

"My lord, you are twoscore and ten.
Your death is not this day.
The kingdom is your lifelong trust!
You cannot walk away!"

"The way a Warden's story ends
You know as well as I.
I hear the call; I must go down
And down, until I die."

"In this land's name- and in my own -
I beg you, do not go.
If not for me, then for our son.
He needs his father so."

"Our Duncan is a gallant prince.
We raised him well, my dear.
With his good heart - and you for wit -
I think he'll manage here."

With nothing left to say, he took
His sword, and turned to go.
"I love you!" she cried out to him.
He softly said, "I know."

He set out on the western road,
Or so the minstrels sing;
And so began the passage
From Ferelden, of the King.