In Death, Sacrifice

Alistair took a deep breath; for a moment, he could see Arl Eamon's gentle face in his mind, Duncan laughing fatherly at one of his jokes, the day of his joining, Ostagar, the Warden and his companions- his friends- by the campfire. Warden Mahariel and her beloved Zevran deserved a long life, as long as the taint allowed them- he had done his part in this world, he was ready to die. The taint was going to take his life at some point, at least now he could bend its hand and die in his own terms: he would die a hero. He didn't want to be king, and this was a great opportunity to capitulate without making the warden look bad; he chuckled at the thought. He hoped Anora would rule the country wisely, and stay true to her word.

The Archdemon approached, roaring and spitting fire at them with unrelenting fury. He told her he would give the killing blow; maybe the look on his face made her agree to that, or maybe she really didn't like him and this was her way of showing him- she did like to make fun of him a lot. But his mind was wandering, and the Archdemon was badly wounded already: it was time. He cleared his head of all thoughts, but Morrigan's voice echoed in his mind "that shouldn't be so hard, eliminating the single thought living inside your head?" making him lose his focus one last time. When he struck the Archdemon in the middle of the eyes with his sword, he was still smiling. Then everything went black.

He woke up inside a comfortable bed, warm and toasty, with the sound of a nearby fireplace. He could smell freshly baked cookies and a hint of spicy Rivaini hot chocolate. He opened his eyes, and saw himself in an unfamiliar bedroom, filled with very familiar things: his warden puppet was on a table, his mother's amulet, his favourite books lined on a bookshelf, that painting of the rebel queen he liked so much from Arl Eamon's studio, his collection of wooden figurines... but that was impossible, didn't Isolde burn his figurines in a pyre before he left to the chantry? His head was spinning, had he survived the Archdemon? Maybe Mahariel took the killing blow after all, and he was... resting? But where? He took a cookie from the nightstand, and a sip from the mug filled with warm creamy chocolate. He checked for wounds, but there weren't any; he remembered cutting his arm and bruising his left leg while fighting the Archdemon, but there wasn't even a scar where the wound had been, and his leg was pristine. Maybe he had been unconscious for a while? Enough to heal? He decided to venture outside the room, to figure out what happened and if the blight was over.

He followed a corridor filled with paintings and draperies, he'd never seen any of them before. He recognized the symbol of the Kingdom of Ferelden, but little more. There were windows on one of the walls, making continuous high arches; he looked outside, it was snowing. Maybe he'd get a chance to lick a lamppost in winter after all, the thought made him giggle to himself. If he survived, did it meant he was king now? Was he in the palace? It didn't look like it though, and... he couldn't see the city from the windows, only a large forest covered in snow. He felt a sudden shiver go up his spine, he had a bad feeling about all that, but he didn't know why exactly.

He wandered around the corridors for a while, and found none; someone had to be in there, right? The cookies and the chocolate hadn't appeared out of thin air, they couldn't have. When he got to the main hall he mustered some bravery and called out for someone, anyone- he braced himself for a demon to appear or something, his body ready to fight if needed. Someone walked out of one of the rooms downstairs, wearing a red robe and a chantry amulet; a revered mother? Was she the one responsible for his recovery? He wanted to ask her, but he only managed to stare at the old lady as she approached, walking like she was floating. Maybe she was actually floating, but he couldn't see her feet because of the robes.

"Welcome, Alistair" she was smiling, her tone reminded him of Wynne. If she was anything like Wynne though, he knew she wouldn't be a cuddly granny. "Did you like your room? Was it comfortable enough? What about the chocolate?"

"I... it was very nice, thank you" he shifted, uncomfortable "Who are you, exactly? I don't want to be rude, I'd just like to know who to thank for nursing me back to health" The revered mother just smiled, and sat at the bottom of the stairs "Also, where in Thedas am I? Am I in Weisshaupt? How... did I get here? And the blight? Did warden Mahariel slay the Archdemon?" he was talking fast, he was anxious to know.

"You slayed the archdemon, my dear" she said after studying him for a while, with an amused expression on her face.

"But Riordan said... the killing blow? Did the archdemon's soul kill Mahariel instead of me?" he had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"Sit, come on, right next to me" she beckoned "Your earthly body is now ashes, Warden Alistair" and there it was, that bad feeling swooped all over his body like a cold shower. Swooping, he thought, is bad; he tried to shake away that feeling. He knew he was going to die, he was ready... but he thought he'd made it out in one piece, only to get that taken away from him. He stayed silent for a while, making peace again with his death.

"Did... uhm, is the blight over?" he dreaded the answer, what if his sacrifice was for nought?

"The blight is over, yes" she was still smiling warmly. Who was this woman? He felt like he knew her, but he couldn't remember who she was. "I'm Andraste, bride of the maker" was she reading his mind? He thought about something silly, mabaris in Orlesian masks dancing in frilly dresses- the woman claiming to be Andraste burst in laughter. She could read his mind, maker.

"Wow, I'm... wow, it's an honour your... ladyship?" wasn't she supposed to be a redhead, larger than life, prettiest woman on earth? She looked like a frail old woman.

"You were expecting something else? I can change my appearance, this place you're in now is very similar to the fade; in fact, all of this" she spread her arms "You made it, with your mind"

"Are you a demon?" he stood up abruptly, scared.

"No, I already told you who I am. I'm like you are now, a spirit in the beyond. This place? It's meant to make the transition easier. Some people find it difficult to accept, they live in this dream-like place for years, not questioning why they're here; you didn't last an hour here without realizing something was a little off, which is why I came to greet you. You were questioning where you were, you were ready"

"What now? Am I going to stay here forever? It's a little lonely, could I at least get a pet? Nothing fancy, maybe a mabari? Do mabari fly up here when they die?" Andraste chuckled.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" she stood up and opened the heavy doors of the palace.