Author's Note: Well, like many who completed Origins, I felt kinda torn at how the story ended. So to get over it, I've written this tale. (I also think its safe to say that this is quite possibly an AU story.) So, sit down, relax and read on. I hope you enjoy this tale.

Duty And Honour

Chapter 1

"A Hollow Victory"

They call him a hero, their saviour, a warrior who defended them from the Blight. They cheer for him in the streets, ruined and blackened by fire and the Darkspawn, but it doesn't stop them from lining the streets to show their gratitude to the one who saved them, who restored their Kingdom and gave them a new King. They call his companions heroes too, the few who stood against the darkness and refused to let it envelop this land. They are heroes, every one of them, even the one who should be here but isn't, the one who should be standing by his side, the one who saved him, but she left him.

The troops he led to save this land call him a saviour too, his effort saving them from their own misfortunes. First Enchanter Irving informs him that the Circle of Magi will be staying in Denerim to help tend to the injured and he again thanks the Warden for helping save the Circle, saying there will never be a way he can repay what the Warden has done. Keeper Lanaya greets the Human who helped cure her clan from the werewolf affliction with a warmth the Dalish rarely show to outsiders. She tells him that King Alistair has offered the Dalish the lands north of Ostagar to thank them for their efforts, thanks to the Wardens her people have a home again. The commander of the Dwarves has left a message stating that while they would have stayed for the celebrations, with the Darkspawn defeated they will return to the Deep Roads and the army will needed to ensure that Orzammar will remain safe. But thanks to the Warden they would be united again against the fiends. His respect of surfacers, and of Humans has grown since meeting the Warden.

His friends call him their champion, to them he saved them all, from their past, from the cruel ambitions of others, from their own mistakes and from their own fears. He tells them he is no such thing, but they smile and tell him he is being modest and that each of them will be grateful for what he has done for each of them. The only ones who don't call him anything are his brother Fergus and his Mabari, Beast, but he knows the faithful hound has always loved him. Fergus doesn't call him a hero, but its what he thinks, he'd say it, but he is too happy to see his little brother alive to form the words he wants to say. His brother has changed in the year since they've seen each other, stronger, leaner, more determined but there is something about him now he can't quite figure out. He eventually decides that both of them have changed, the death of their parents Bryce and Eleanor, of Fergus' own family, his wife Oriana and son Oren, and the events of the last year affecting them both in different ways. And while he'd love nothing more then to just talk to his little brother he leaves him be, this is his day and all Fergus Cousland wants is for people to recognise what his little brother has done for them, he is content to stand back and watch over him, as he did when they were children.

Its evening in the Royal Palace at the small banquet Alistair organised for them when Wynne finds the Warden and tells him Alistair came up with the name "the Hero of Ferelden", which explains quite a lot. The mage thanks him for helping her, and the Circle. She thanks him for finding Aneirin and for helping her get past her biggest regret. He asks her what she will do now, and is pleased to hear that Alistair asked her to be the Court Mage, but a little surprised to hear Wynne turn it down, instead choosing to travel to Tevinter with Shale to see about helping the Golem restore her mortal form. He is even more surprised to hear why Shale wished to do so, inspired by a certain squishy being, proving to her that its not so bad to be soft and fleshy. Wynne tells him they will never see each other again, and so she wishes him luck with whatever he chooses to do with his life and he wishes both Wynne and Shale good health, a comment Wynne gently laughs at.

Oghren, though already drunk and a little green after a third barrel of pickle juice, thanks the Warden for helping him find Felsi, and giving him back his life. He'll always consider the Warden as family, something he hasn't had in a long time. He is about to say something else to the Warden when Bann Teagan walks up with a fourth barrel and says double or nothing if Oghren can't finish this barrel in one go. The Warden smiles and leaves his friend, telling him to never change. The Dwarf laughs as he lifts the barrel to his lips.

Zevran and Leliana find him in the palace garden, remarkably untouched by the Darkspawn. He smiles when he sees them, and is pleased to hear they will be staying in Denerim for the time being. Zevran jokes he'd love to see the Crows attack him now, knowing the Warden will defeat them without a problem, but for the time being, the wine is flowing and he feels thirsty. Leliana rolls her eyes as the Assassin walks away and proceeds to tell her friend that she will be speaking to the Grand Cleric in the morning about the possibility of leading an expedition to the Deep Roads, to learn more about the Darkspawn, her own little adventure. She tells him she thought it was her task to save him, she never expected for him to save hers and change her life. She turns to leave, but stops, turning back to give him a brief kiss on the lips. She whispers her thanks to her hero, and wishes him the best, the Bard gliding back to the celebrations.

He spends most of the evening in the garden, twisting the rosewood ring on his finger and looks up the sky, the world and every noise around him fading to silence as he thinks of her. Her black hair, her golden eyes, her scent, her tender lips, her laugh, everything about her, especially the pain of their last night together. He becomes so focused, he doesn't even hear the man in plate armour walk up behind him. He nearly jumps as the goblet appears in front of him and the world with all its noises comes crashes back into his ears led by the sound of laughter. He turns, following the golden armour surrounding the arm holding the goblet to see his friend and a man he considers his brother, Alistair Theirin, the new King of Ferelden, his face beaming, though its difficult to tell if its laughter or the wine making him smile. The King tells him he won't tell the others he jumped, but he will find it hilarious for a while. The thought of the Hero of Ferelden jumping like a scared child, especially after what they have both gone through makes them both smile and laugh a little. The two chat for a time, laughing as if the troubles of the world no longer concern them, Alistair trying to decide how long it'll take before he accidentally burns the Kingdom down. The Warden is about to say something when Arl Eamon appears and informs the King that some business needs to be taken care of. Alistair shrugs his shoulders, and pats his friend on the back, saying being King is already shaping up to be as boring as he imagined it would be, he laughs and leaves his friend in the garden.

The celebrations in Denerim have been over for a week and he awakens in his room in the royal palace, his hand covering his eyes as the servant pulls back the curtains of his room, allowing the morning rays of sunshine to burst past the fabric. The young elven woman simultaneously apologises and informs him breakfast would be served soon. She leaves a jug of water by the washbasin and excuses herself before he can even thank her. He walks over and pours some water into the porcelain bowl, washing his face and looking at his reflection in the antique mirror. It takes a moment to recognise the face staring back at him. He is 24 years old, his eyes green, like his father, his hair black, thick and shoulder length. He remembers people telling him he looked much like his father had in his youth, his skin firmer and without the slight jowl his father had in later life, but those comments felt like they were spoken to someone else in another life. His nose, people told him, belonged to his mother's father, slightly longer and sharper then Fergus', but straighter, a little narrower, but not noticeably so, and without the Cousland bump Fergus and his father seemed to have developed by the time they were his age. The curved tattoo on the right side of his face still looked as sharp as it did the day he earned it, the day he earned his spurs 3 years ago. He reaches towards the mirror and touches the marking reflected in it. He pulls his hand back and rubs the stubble on his chin, and he thinks of her and the time she tried to help him shave and accidentally cut his chin on the first stroke of the razor. Her eyes widened in shock and her face had turned white and though she apologised, he just laughed as he held the cloth to the cut. He kissed her forehead and thanked her for trying. He knew she wasn't warm very often, but that had been one of those rare moments he really knew the real her and he felt sure he truly loved her. He knew she feared what she felt about him so he never pushed her, instead finding contentment in the rare moments she opened up to him. As his mind turns back to the present, his gaze returned to his face in the mirror, the smile that had been there quickly fading. He turns and starts to put on the finely crafted dragonbone plate amour. Highever awaited him and Fergus, and a chance to make amends, to say goodbye to those he loved, the ones he loved and failed to protect.

They called him a hero, he knew he was anything but..

As the small army prepared to leave Denerim for Highever, Fergus awaited his little brother, chatting with the people who called his brother friend, gaining an insight to who his brother had become, and with every deed he heard about, his pride in the little boy he had hoisted on his shoulders to get cookies when they were younger, grew and grew. Leliana was the first to see the Warden arrive at the gates, beaming and waved to him. He smiled back and raised his hand in response. His friends wished the brothers luck, Alistair saying he would follow them with reinforcements in less then a week, Leliana and Zevran promising to visit before they left for their own tasks. The Warden thanks them and mounts the horse, following his brother, the two warriors riding off to reclaim their home.

It had been the previous day when Fergus realised what had changed in his brother, between Alistair's coronation and the celebrations there had been little chance for them to talk in private. It was something each of his companions knew but dared not speak about it for fear of hurting him. He had been their strength, the source of their courage for the past year and each of them would throw down their lives to protect him in the same way he protected theirs. But each of them knew that none of them could help him now, no matter how much they wanted to. Fergus realised it when he had looked into his brother's eyes, and he too knew there was nothing he could do.

For all the strength and bravery he had shown and continued to show, Aedan Cousland's heart was breaking and there was nothing he friends and family could do to help him.