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The lover held her love
Kallian lay entwined with her lover in the morn preceding battle. He breathes beside her, asleep, and she traces patterns on his chest. In bending to his wish, she laid with him instead of Morrigan, and she knew this would be the last time she would feel his beating heart dance under her fingertips. Too late, she wishes she fought harder against him to give up the one piece of them to save the whole.
She begged him not to go
"Alistair, please don't go with me, stay safe," and live, she adds silently to herself.
"And let you lot have all the fun? Not a chance," he chuckles. "Besides, with Riordan taking care of the Archdemon, we won't even be in the heavy fighting. It will be fine, you'll see." She wonders if the words ring truer to his ears. She supposes they don't.
The fighter wrapped his gloves
The fighter said I know, I know, I know
Before she can repeat her entreaty, he pulls away and dons the vestments of battle. Soon, too soon, he is no longer dressed as her lover, but as the fighter. Kallian wonders if he can see the tears dance in her eyes as she watches him tighten his straps and lace up his boots. She blinks them away and slips into armor of her own. Armor she wishes stood guard around her heart and not her body.
Just this one last time
I swear you'll still be mine
"Kal, look at me," Alistair orders. She complies, though she makes sure her eyes only sparkle a little. "I will protect you with my life, like I've always done. That doesn't mean I won't come back to you. I know you're scared, but trust me. Please."
She nods. What else can she do?
But he can't promise much
He goes for one last touch
One last touch
He reaches for her with mail-enclosed hands. She leans into the cold metal, seeking the warmth in the gesture. His determination to succeed sets his mouth in a hard line. Kallian leans up to him for a kiss and they share the taste of their worry. He worries for her, she for him.
Maybe we were meant to be lonely, lonely
Maybe we were meant to be on our own
Loneliness has always been with me, with me
But maybe we don't have to be all alone
Maybe Nelaros's death was a sign. Maybe I'm not meant to be happy , Kallian thinks, watching Alistair joke with Oghren. Then Alistair looks back at her and her heart soars higher than an archdemon ever could.
The fighter goes inside
The doubt is creeping in
Riordan is dead. The realization sinks in Alistair's gut. He looks to Kallian's form entering the Fort Drakon and thinks, One of us will die.
He swings with all his might
At all that might have been
He swings his sword in cutting arcs. One arc is for the children he and Kallian will never have. A shield bash is for the mornings he'll miss seeing her smile. He beheads a hurlock for the moments he won't be able to joke about her short stature. He stabs an emissary though the heart for the marriage they never had the chance to plan. He slashes a shriek for the loss of Kallian's scent, her hair, her eyes, her laugh...
And she's in love with him
Kallian doesn't let herself feel during the battle. Block. Parry. Slash. Stab. Block. Parry. Slash. Stab. She hits every darkspawn in their blighted hearts because hers is breaking with the weight of the decision in front of her. She knows she couldn't live without him, and she must strike the final blow against the dragon. She will die for her love.
But lovers don't always win
Suddenly, they're at the top of the tower, desperately fighting their way to the archdemon. Kallian and Alistair cut through swaths of darkspawn towards their doom. Neither can look at the other, what they suppose they have to leave behind. The darkspawn fall to the furious blades of the lovers in scores. The archdemon is no different. It falls to hundreds of wounds.
"This is it, love," Alistair pants. He moves to sink the final blow into the archdemon's heart.
"Alistair, no! Please let me kill it, go on, live," Kallian lunges for her lover.
"You act like I can live without you."
He never even saw the swing
She calls out his name, calls his name
His blade raises above his head, glinting, and he wishes the last thing he hears wasn't Kallian Tabris screaming, "Alistair!"
Maybe we were meant to be lonely, lonely
Maybe we were meant to be on our own
Loneliness has always been with me, with me
But maybe we don't have to be all alone
In the moment before his blade strikes home, he is glad he got to love her for that brief moment. As a Templar recruit he never thought his heart would suffer anything but blows. Now he knows that he can be loved and the notion wraps itself around his breaking heart. A small comfort in the face of death.
What breaks your bones
Is not the load you're carrying
What breaks you down
Is all in how you carry
His blade barely pierces the skin of the beast, and Kallian feels her chest rip apart. It sinks in, and she shatters. She flies to the crumpling form of Alistair with tears and sobs blubbering out. They are broken.
The lover held her love
She begged him not to go
"Please, I need you. Please don't go. I- I can't live without you," the words somehow make their way past her blocked throat.
She unwrapped his gloves
The lover said I know, I know, I know
Alistair reaches a trembling hand for her face, and she rips the mail off his fingers so she can feel his warm touch for the few moments she can. He tries to choke out an I love you. She replies with a sob.
Kissed his trembling lips
She touched his fingertips
One of his last breaths dance on her lips as she brushes them across his mouth. She clenches his hand in hers and he spits blood.
But somehow they both know
He's not coming home, coming home
The last of Alistair's lifeforce is spent on pressing a ring into Kallian's fingers, and he dies with a slight smile.
Loneliness has always been with me, with me
Maybe we were meant to be on our own
But I got to try or it will destroy me
Cause maybe we don't have to be all alone
Kallian inspects the ring. The form of a rose twines itself around her finger in gold. She presses the hand on which the ring rests to her stomach, swelling with life, so she can see both of Alistair's last gifts.
