Title: In Death, Sacrifice
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Pairing(s): Alistair/F!Surana
Summary: "But why should you fear death if you are happy with the life you had led? If you can look back on everything and say 'Yes, I am content. It is enough.'"Alistair/F!Surana, Ultimate Sacrifice Ending.
Rating/Warnings: T – character death and angst.
Timeline: During DAO, following one of the possible endings.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age: Origins obviously isn't mine. It belongs to Bioware. No profit is being made from this story, it's purely for entertainment. The title of the fic is also based off of the motto of the Grey Warden's so… not mine either. XD
Author's Note: It's been some time since I last posted on FF! I think I hit some sort of serious writers block or something. Anyway, I've been into the Dragon Age franchise for quite a while now (easily my favourite games ever) and I always found the Ultimate Sacrifice ending to be possibly the most dramatic, and also the most thought/emotion-provoking, so I decided to write this little one-shot featuring the thoughts of the elven mage, Neria Surana (default name) as she takes the final blow in place of the man she loves. Hope you all enjoy it, let me know what you think, and most likely this will not be my last contribution to the DA archive!

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The Archdemon lay fallen, but the battle was not over. Not yet. Despite the events that had just transpired, the air felt so still to Neria. Almost as if time itself had slowed down just for this very moment. Leliana had fallen, wounded, and Wynne was tending to her injuries. Both women were blissfully unaware of what had to happen next. But Alistair wasn't.

"Don't look at me like that," he said angrily, his eyes shining bright from the orange flames nearby. In his golden armour, he almost seemed to glow. Even covered in blood, he was still the handsomest man she'd ever seen in her life. "You're not going to do this, I won't let you. So don't look at me like you're saying goodbye."

"Alistair…" Neria began, trailing off. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say. What could she possibly say to him? How could she properly convey what he meant to her before it all came to an end? He'd ended the relationship, but that hadn't changed the way she felt about him. She doubted anything ever could.

Neria just hoped he understood that she needed to be the one to do this.

"You're going to be king." She stated softly, looking up at him. "You need to be alive to be a king."

"Being the one to take the final blow against the archdemon and die in service to Ferelden is the greatest act I can perform as king." He responded, his tone final.

The arcane warrior resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at him. "That's not why you're doing this. I'm not a fool."

"You're right." Alistair sighed, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. "I love you too much to just let you die. Not when I can do something about it."

Neria resisted the temptation to scream at him. She had been resigned to her fate since Riordan had told them in Castle Redcliffe that the Grey Warden who took the final blow to the Archdemon would surely die. She'd even snuck back into the older Grey Warden's room after Alistair went to bed to reaffirm that in the event Riordan fell in battle before he could reach the Archdemon, Neria would be the one to slay it. He'd protested at first, obviously put off by the idea, but she'd managed to convince him it was the right thing to do.

She knew in her heart couldn't let Alistair take the final blow in her place, despite how much he would want to. He was going to be king. If the people of Ferelden had a choice in the matter, they would much rather an elven mage died in place of their king. She meant next to nothing in the grand scheme of things, and she was alright with that.

"There's a bigger picture here, Riordan." She'd said to him. "Ferelden needs him. We didn't fight like mad, and come this far for the throne to fall to Anora just because Alistair won't let me take the final blow for selfish reasons."

Morrigan's offer hadn't been an option either, not to Neria. Despite their unexpected friendship, Neria didn't trust the ritual, especially since the witch had been secretive about what her intentions with the baby were. Despite how much the idea of both her and Alistair being able to live as heroes appealed her, she just couldn't bring herself to agree to it. She was a Grey Warden. It was her duty to protect the land against forces of evil that may bring it harm. It was the vow she'd taken at the joining. And the possibility of the child coming back one day, seeking to claim its father's throne, not knowing the power it would hold, didn't sit well with her. It was a risk she couldn't afford to take. She was determined that she and Alistair would do their duty as Grey Wardens, without the aid of blood magic to cheat their way out of it.

"Alistair," Neria tried to grasp at anything she could, in hopes of finding something that would stick. They were running out of time, and starting draw the attention of Wynne and the newly conscious bard. "You have a duty to your future queen, remember? An heir to the throne and all that?" She tried smiling, but feared it might've looked more like grimace. Pain ripped at her chest like a violent animal as she was forced to recall what had happened after the Landsmeet, but she managed to maintain her façade of indifference.

The former templar flinched hard, as if she'd slapped him, and it took him a few moments before he could respond.

"I told you once that I could never picture being without you. Or being with anybody except you. And I meant it." His fingers touched her cheek, his expression forlorn. "I… I wish I hadn't… I'm so stupid, Neria. I hope you can forgive me someday."

"Wait," Neria choked back a sob as he turned to face the fallen Archdemon, his hand reaching for his sword once more. "Kiss me goodbye, at least."

"Thank you," He said breathlessly, relieved that she'd yielded. As requested, he leaned down to press his lips against hers. The kiss was deep and needy, from both the absence of doing so since the night before the Landsmeet and the knowledge that this would be their last. Finally, Neria couldn't stop the tears from falling, and she held onto him for as long as she could, never wanting the moment to end.

Alistair reluctantly broke the kiss, and touched her forehead with his. He whispered his goodbye, but Neria barely heard him. As he pulled back, she touched his face and looked up at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry for doing this." She murmured ruefully, wiping her tears away and smudging her face with dirt and blood. "But you really didn't give me any other choice."

He frowned at her, confused. "Why are you-?"

Crack.

Her fist connected with his face, and the unexpected blow sent him falling back onto the stone floor below, unconscious. She resisted the urge to yell in pain, cradling her aching hand with the certainty that she'd just broken her knuckle. Although she'd learned to channel her magic into producing raw strength in order to accommodate her wearing armour and wielding weapons, she'd only learned how to use a sword. Punching a warrior was going to hurt her just as badly as it would any other mage.

Regardless, she was rather proud of herself, and unable to stop herself from feeling grimly victorious.

"Neria!" Wynne scolded, flabbergasted as she and Leliana approached the Grey Wardens. "Why in the Maker's name did you-?"

She didn't have time to explain, to say goodbye again. She'd said everything that needed to be said at the gates of Denerim; more than that they need not know. The elf could only hope that it would be enough. Neria looked at the two humans sadly, and bowed her head as she turned to face the Archdemon whose eyes had snapped open once more.

As she ran towards it, picking up a blade that had belonged to a dismembered Redcliffe soldier, the elven mage couldn't help but marvel at how far she'd come. Even in the face of death, she could appreciate that. From the small, bookworm-ish teacher's pet in the tower to the general of the king of Ferelden's armies, and a Grey Warden to boot.

In those moments, she thought back on everything she'd done in the past year, all the things she'd experienced, the places she'd never of thought in a million years she would get to travel to and see, and all the people she'd met, who helped to shape the person that stood here now, ready to die for Ferelden.

She thought of Duncan first – for without him, she would not be where she was at that very moment in time. She owed this victory to the fallen Warden-Commander. She then thought of Jowan, whom she still considered her best friend, despite everything that'd happened. She thought of the First Enchanter, of Knight-Commander Greagoir, Cullen, Morrigan, her Mabari hound Barkspawn, Leliana, Sten, Zevran, Oghren, Wynne, Shale…

Alistair.

And suddenly Wynne's words from so long ago came back to her.

"But why should you fear death if you are happy with the life you had led? If you can look back on everything and say 'Yes, I am content. It is enough.'"

"Yes," Neria whispered outloud, looking down at the twice-fallen beast. "I am content. It is enough."

And she meant it. With that realization, without fear, without remorse, without anything except pure elation, she raised the blade and drove it into the dragon's skull.

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