~Beginning's End~

The sound of clanging swords rang out from the top of the tower as the forces of Denerim fought tirelessly to push back the wave of darkspawn on the roof of Fort Drakon. Her focus remained on the archdemon, firing another bolt from the ballista which hit its mark. The dragon roared in anger, snapping at the bolt firmly stabbed into its side. With its powerful jaws, it crunched many of the arrows that were also protruding from between its scales, but the ballista bolt was out of reach. And that's when she saw it; her opportunity.

A cry of determination burst from her lips as she charged the archdemon with her sword raised high above her head. For that moment, she could no longer feel a thing – no pain, no fatigue – all that existed was the brief opening the archdemon gave her after a long and fierce battle. The sword met little resistance as she raced down the length of its neck, splitting open its flesh. The archdemon shuddered but was unable to react, and heavily slumped to the ground. With her face twisted in rage, the Warden plunged her sword through the base of the creature's head, ending the fight once and for all.

A tunnel of light ruptured from where her sword was still sunk. A small voice in her mind screamed for her to back off, but her body was beyond rationality. She simply reacted and tried to free her weapon to no avail. The darkspawn, however, were quick to flee much to the surprise of the defending force. Turning her face to try and shield her eyes, she grabbed the hilt of her sword with both hands and pulled with all her might as her companions exchanged worried glances. Suddenly, the tunnel of light violently exploded in a spectacular display, knocking everyone back. The blast was so powerful it forced the air from her lungs, and she didn't remember even hitting the ground.

Everything became distant and muffled. As she stared up at the dispersing light, she felt herself slipping away. The world grew dark. The last few days flashed before her as she lost her grip on reality…

It was immediately following the Landsmeet that Alistair barged into her chambers, slamming the door against the wall as he flung it open. Startled, Drea spun around, and opened her mouth to snap at him about being so rude.

Before she could start, however, Alistair stomped up to her and shouted, "How could you just throw me to the wolves like that!"

Drea was completely taken aback, "Throw you to the wolves? I made you King! Most of those wolves are your supporters."

"But I never wanted this," Alistair spat. "After this is over with, they're actually going to put me on the throne. I've always regretted being born of this blood, you know that. I kept thinking that there would be a way out and instead you go and put me on the throne yourself! Why?"

Taking a deep breath, Drea tried to calm the anger that was rising. She knew it would only make things worse if she let herself match his fury. "I did it for Ferelden."

Alistair sighed, deflating some of his anger. Shaking his head, he replied, "And what I want doesn't factor in anywhere does it? Funny how it always works out like that." His piercing stare made it painfully obvious he was directing that at her. Before she could say anything, he sighed, "Drea, I have no idea what I'm doing, you know that. How can this be good for anyone?"

Reaching over, Drea rested her hand on Alistair's arm and gently squeezed, "Alistair, you'll be fine. Like Arl Eamon pointed out, you already have what cannot be taught – you have a good heart and you know the realities of what the country has to face. And besides, Arl Eamon has already offered to remain and give council."

As she spoke, Alistair glanced at her hand on his arm. Eventually he looked from her hand back up to her eyes. "But you won't, will you?" His voice was quiet.

Pulling her hand back, she crossed her arms. His true feelings emerged in his eyes; his anger was a cover for his hurt. Swallowing hard, she shook her head. They had been through this before, but it was not easy for either of them to accept.

"Why not?" His eyebrows crinkled as he tried to keep calm.

"For Ferelden," she repeated softly.

"Don't hand me that," Alistair said flatly.

Raising her chin, she looked at him sternly and repeated more firmly, "For Ferelden. You know as well as I do the difficulty two Grey Wardens have producing a child. If I take my place at your side, your bloodline will die with you. And then where would Ferelden be? We've already discussed this; you need to take your place with Anora at your side. Not only will she be able to bear you an heir, but she'll be able to govern."

Exasperated, Alistair threw his hands up as he snorted, "Oh right! Somehow I don't think that's going to happen. Not only do I have her locked up in her own personal prison right now, but there's also the fact that she hates me."

Drea sighed and dropped her hands by her side. As horrendous as Loghain's actions were, Drea couldn't help but empathize with Anora. She personally understood that watching your father being struck down tends to leave a bitter taste in one's mouth. Leaning onto the back of the bench that sat next to them, she shrugged, "I think it will pass. She just lost her father by your hand, and that's...that would be awful for anyone. But she was also aware that there was little choice in the matter. Anora loves her country. After she has space to clear her head I'm confident she'll do what's right and follow through with commitments she's already made to you."

"Lovely," Alistair shot back sarcastically, "But I'm not exactly interested in forcing someone to be my wife."

She replied so quickly that she was close to interrupting, "No Alistair, I do not believe you'll have to force her. You're a wonderful man, and she'll see that when she calms down."

"If I'm so wonderful, then why is it so easy for you to pawn me off like this?" His eyebrows furrowed deeper as he looked at her. Drea's mouth went dry as she stared hard at him for a moment.

When Drea's family was betrayed by the Howes and slaughtered before her eyes, her heart had been broken. Even as she allowed Duncan to hurriedly lead her away, she kept looking back to catch glimpses of her childhood burning to the ground behind her. Numbly she pressed on, but she could feel her heart being destroyed, leaving her empty and hollow. It was during the next year, while on the road with her companions, that her heart mended a little. The love from her friends, namely Alistair and Leliana, provided the stitches she used to piece her heart back together.

Now, as she stared into Alistair's eyes that silently pleaded with her, she was knew she was about to cost herself many stitches this day. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep herself from flinching as she spoke, "Alistair...this isn't about what I want. I grew up a Teyrn's daughter, and I learned to put the needs of the people ahead of my own personal desires. Right now I need you to do the same. We still have to face the archdemon and that's where we have to focus."

Alistair stood unmoving and watched her as she uncomfortably began to rub the back of her neck. He tightly closed his eyes as he sighed, "Drea." He spoke so insistently, it caught her attention and stilled her fidgeting. "Drea, I love you. You think I can't tell when you're holding something back? I deserve better."

There was a perfect mixture of hope and sorrow in his face as he fell silent. All he wanted was for her to say something assuring, something to erase all the doubt and pain. She could feel stitches ripping freely now. The truth was, she was able walk away easier than a contended lover should. It hurt to leave, but she had known for a while she did not love him in the same way he loved her. At her core, she could no longer attempt to deny that wanted something different…someone different. Looking at him now, she was left unsure what to say. She didn't want to crush him, but he was right - he deserved better than lies.

Dropping eye contact, Drea reached for the chain that hung around her neck and pulled a small pouch from under her armour. Giving the frail chain a hard tug, it easily snapped from her neck. "I…" she started and paused. With both hands, she pressed the pouch into the Alistair's palms. Looking into his eyes she hesitantly finished. "…don't think I love you the way you need me to."

His crestfallen expression hurt her deeply, but she could not think of anything to say that would help. Alistair was quiet for a moment before finally looking down at what she put in his hands. Carefully, he opened the pouch to find a dried rose inside. As the contents spilled into his hand, he knew it was the rose. He had his answer. "Things will never be the same again, will they?" He asked quietly.

Also looking down at the rose in his hand, tears threatened to well in Drea's eyes. He had given her that rose months before when he finally confessed his love for her. Even at the time she was confused by her feelings, but deeply cared for him. Since then, she had kept it close as it was a symbol of what they found in one another - a bit of beauty during a dark time. "I'm…so sorry," she murmured.

Staring down at the rose, Alistair ever so slowly closed his hand into a tight fist, crushing the dry and fragile petals. Turning his hand over as he opened it, the flakes of crushed rose petals fluttered to the cold, uncaring stone floor. "Then I guess that's that," his voice was barely above a whisper. Without looking up, he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Drea wanted to call out to him, somehow hoping she could force this to end on a better note. But she remained quiet, knowing that was impossible. It was over, and he needed to be the one to walk away if he were to have a hope of moving on…

She slowly became aware of the hard stone under her back. Her mind was a haze, but returned to the present - she had just slain the archdemon. Through the pain, her breath came in ragged pants. The end was upon her, and as she lay there dying, her one regret wasn't hurting Alistair...it was not telling her how she truly felt.

A figure eclipsed the light before her. "Leliana?" She croaked.

"No," a masculine voice floated to her. "You left Leliana at the gate remember? By the Maker, you're still alive." Alistair reached down to firmly grab Drea as he began to sit her up. Slowly, the world started to come back into focus. Looking into her eyes, he opened his mouth to say more but paused. Sweat was dripping down the side of his face, mixing with the darkspawn blood splattered on him as he breathed heavily from battle. He had the same victorious glow as the others, but in eyes sat dark anguish. Frowning, he finally blinked and decided against whatever he was about to say and focused on getting her to her feet.

Grasping onto Alistair's strong arms as he heaved her up, she was grateful he was with her. "Apparently Morrigan was good to her word," he added, "not only did you live, but she's already disappeared from the Fort." Drea was not surprised.

Her remaining companions gathered around her and they slowly made their way over to the edge of the roof. Peering over the side, they saw the soldiers cheering as the last of the darkspawn scrambled away from their defeat. Many of the soldiers were staring up at the Fort and yelled for others to look when they spotted the heroes looking down on them. Soon, the victorious men and women gathered together, shouting of triumphs and gratitude to the heroes on the rooftop.

Staring down at the jovial group, still dripping with blood from their conquest, Drea slowly began to understand this was not the end. It was, in fact, only the beginning.