No Armor Against Fate (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Anniversary

The following day was the great parade in celebration of the Archdemon's death. The king and queen rode together in a carriage, with the Grey Warden and the rest of the party behind in another one. The crowds cheered and threw flowers as they passed. Clearly the past year had not dimmed the popularity of the Hero of Ferelden.

At length they arrived back at the palace, where Alistair took his place on the balcony, looking out over a sea of citizens. "Fereldans!" he said loudly, and the crowd began to quiet. "We are assembled here to celebrate the killing of the Archdemon and the ending of the shortest Blight in recorded history. Today we honor King Cailan and Duncan, the Grey Wardens, and everyone who died for our country in that terrible struggle. We honor the hard work of all of Ferelden's citizens, who have tirelessly labored to rebuild what was destroyed by the darkspawn. We bid welcome to Queen Dorothea, who has taken her place to rule our nation at my side." He motioned to the queen, and she stood next to him, smiling and waving at the crowd. Alistair looked back out at the people, and spoke again. "But most of all, we are here to say thank you once again to Thora Aeducan, Hero of Ferelden, for her many sacrifices on behalf of this nation."
Turning, he motioned furiously to Thora, who sighed, but came forward. She waved her arms to try and still the cheering. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said. "Let us not forget today all those to whom we owe thanks, as well as respect. The mages of the Circle fought at our side. The Dalish elves came from the forests to fight with us, as did those of the Alienage. The dwarves came from Orzammar. Ferelden was saved by all of her citizens acting together, in concert, toward a single goal. Let us not lose sight of that—together is the way we defeated the Blight, and together is the way we will rebuild this nation."

The three of them stood there, facing the people: Alistair in gleaming royal armor flanked by his wife, her hair carefully coiffed, her gown delicate and lacy, and Thora, her short red hair wind-blown and her black Legion of the Dead armor a stark reminder of everything they had all lost.

And in the back of the crowd, an aged woman looked up at the balcony and laughed.