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It’s time. Time to take out an Archdemon and maybe make some progress in this stupid fight. 

The smell of bog with the undertone of Blight surrounds Jerran as he stands in a huddle of Grey Wardens at the edge of Lavendel, listening to Sergeant Jin. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as he shifts the sword and larger shield in his hands. His training paid off, he’s been assigned to more of a Warrior type position today rather than the usual archer.

 This… this is different; sure he's fought in battles where the Archdemons were present, but the monsters were distant, fighting *somewhere* beyond where he’d been stationed.

The knowledge that a Grey Warden sacrificed his soul, his very essence, to kill an Archdemon had been abstract up until now. Back then…. It seemed somewhat like a fairytale.

Now, it’s disturbingly close.

A slender hand rests on his arm, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Vhenan? Are you all right?”

This time, he’s not alone. Jerran glances down to see his beloved Eleanor’s face, her lavender blue eyes worried in the dim light. “Sorry. Just thinking.” Taking out a lyrium potion, he downs the bottle and reflexively grimaces at the sickly sweet flavor. 

His veins hum as the Strength and Endurance runes inserted at the base of his neck and lower back absorb the artificially-created mana pool. One small blessing from being experimented on, I guess. 

Eleanor leans her head against his shoulder, the gold coins around her waist gently clinking against his armor. “We’re fighting together, vhenan. I promise you won’t be alone,” she says softly.

Trying to talk her into staying in a safer area was impossible. “We won’t be alone,” he promises.  Shifting the sword and shield to the side, he wrapped an arm around her. 

“Baby Warden Jerran Thorne, are you paying attention?” Morella’s voice cuts through their conversation. “Or do I need to send you back to the Lighthouse so Eleanor can tuck you in with a bedtime story?”

Snickers run around the group as Eleanor’s face turns pink. Lil’lath smiles at him and pats his bac while Zae elbows him in the side from the other side. Jerran straightens. “No, Lieutenant Thorne. I mean, yes, I’m paying attention. No, I don’t need a bedtime story.” 

After one last glare, his aunt turns back to the debrief: there will be two squadrons working together  – one regular group led by Lil’lath and other Senior Wardens. The other, the Inglorious Wardens, an elite group led by Sarge and Lieutenant Morella Thorne.  They’ll be stationed in the Pit, ready to assist when needed.

Sarge dismisses the group and Jerran turns to leave. 

“Hey.” Morella stops him, her usually sharp eyes softening momentarily. “Don’t fuck up. I mean it. No ogres, no being stupid. Got that?” Concern lances her voice beneath the harsh words. Her gaze turns to Eleanor. “That goes for you too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eleanor says softly.

“You know us, auntie.” Morella would frown at hugging openly in front of the others, so Jerran gives her a cheeky grin and a wink. “Too stubborn and good-looking to die.”

A momentary smirk lifts her lips before they settle back into her usual scowl. “Don’t get cocky, baby warden,” she mutters as she turns back to get in position.

—--

 Jerran and Eleanor, along with most of the Veilguard wait below the crumbling tower where the Archdemon was said to have been resting as backup. 

“Jerran.” Kaed’s voice sounds just slightly behind him. Beside him, a smaller Warden with dark hair and facepaint – M something? Matilde? Maeve, Mavis, that was it – smiles at both of them as she adjusts the bow in her hand.

Jerran quells the slight feeling of guilt and unease that always rises at the sound of the taller Warden’s voice. “Kaed.”

“Just like old times?” Kaed’s slight quaver in his voice tells Jerran that he’s thinking the same thing: the last time they’d fought together, they’d almost killed each other.

“Yeah.” Jerran blows out his breath. “Like old times.”  He wished Zae was next to him, even now. But the archer is positioned in another spot in the battlefield, hopefully with his husband Alec. 

Jerran looks up as two figures – one tall with qunari horns and dripping with Rivani gold, the other armored and difficult to make out – hike their way up to the Archdemon’s makeshift prison, accompanied by a thick long bolt that gleamed in the moonlight as Wardens insert it into a waiting ballista. The Dragon Hunter and the other must be the mysterious Rook.

With merely a thought, Jerran activates the runes. Warmth fills him as the Endurance rune energizes his body to fight longer; the Strength rune vibrates as his armor and weapons suddenly feel lighter. Cracking his neck, he loosens up his stance and blows out a breath, ignoring the stench of bog and Blight.

The Dragon Expert enters the Tower and the world holds its breath.

A horn blast.

Nothing.

Beside him, Eleanor grips her staff, her face settling into grim determination. Jerran keeps his eyes on the Tower.

Then —

A column of fire rises from the center of the ruined building, accompanied by a dragon’s roar. Jerran tenses. SHIT.

The dragon bursts from the tower in a thundering wave of flames and fury, scattering Grey Wardens like toy soldiers; Jerran flinches and he hears Eleanor gasp as several of his fellow Wardens run screaming with their armor on fire. Several fall to the pit below where the Veilguard waits.

*Shit, shit, shit —* 

The dragon makes a valiant attempt to flee; other Wardens assigned to tackle the Archdemon approach the beast. “Hold your ground!” Jin shouts before the Inglorious Wardens charge.

Pain explodes behind his temple as a masked monster bursts from the ground, snatching Grey Wardens – with horror, he recognizes a Warden Vaughn from a past expedition fall limply in her grasp. Some she rips to shreds; others, launch straight into the dragon’s mouth. A deep, female voice almost as familiar as the Song roars above them. 

*Ghilan’ain.* 

“Wardens! You defied me at Weisshaupt. Stole my archdemon.” The monster’s multiple arms glow red and he winces as the headache increases. 

Beside him, Mavis screams as Ghilan’ain’s tentacles lift and stabs a large horned quanri. “AGOST!”

Slinging her bow around her shoulders, she scrambles forward, ignoring Jerran’s shout of alarm. Kaed curses and follows her, running toward the goddess writhing above them. 

“I will have blood for that.”

The Blight in Jerran’s veins surges, giving him just enough warning to yank Eleanor toward him as a Blight pool oozes where she’d just been standing. Instinctively, he hacks at the snarling Darkspawn emerging from the bloody depths. 

One appears just in front of Mavis and a spindly hand grasps her arm before she can even blink or scream. In a quick twist, the newborn Darkspawn dislocates her shoulder only to get frozen in place by a well-placed ice spell from Kaed. 

Jerran blocks the next wave with his shield. “Get her to the healers,” he shouts above the screams.

The taller mage scoops his beloved up as Eleanor carves a way for him with an ice blast to slow the horde. Jerran barely gives them another thought.

—----

The battle continues and time seems to slow. Jerran and Eleanor stand back to back, her ice and necrotic energy snapping and sparking in time with other mages' lightning and fire. In the blur, he manages to catch glimpses of other Veilguard members – Kayden, standing tall with his large sword and shield with Kalais at his side; Keion zipping across the field with Fadestep; Beryl roaring and leaping at an Emissary. 

It's the first time Jerran's fought with the runes in a true, chaotic battle – small skirmishes in the Crossroads and Venatori in Minrathous never lasted long enough. Before, Jerran always held back during training and sparring matches. One wrong snap and —

Here, there’s no need to hold back; he can release the frenzy that’s been building since he returned to the Lighthouse. Jerran grabs a genlock, thrusts his blade into its chest, twists, and lets the body fall. It’s too easy, like slicing through straw and burlap rather than flesh and bone. 

Another Darkspawn ventures a little too closely to Eleanor’s blindspot, fingers nearly brushing her hair. Jerran’s shield caves in the creature’s skull with little force.

The Song, the roar and groans of battle, and clashing of armor ring in Jerran’s ears. It’s almost… euphoric.

But there's a price.

Jerran downs the second lyrium bottle and chucks it at the nearest Darkspawn. His leg aches from a lucky strike between the plates from a wickedly sharp dagger. The rejuvenation rune burns in his lower back as it kicks in to heal the wound. 

It’s a delicate balance – not enough lyrium, and the runes siphon off his own lifeforce. Drink it too quickly, and he runs out before the battle is over. 

He turns to check on Eleanor who gives him a determined nod, her eyes focused as she creates ice spikes to impale the next wave approaching. 

“KID!” A shout from the side brings him back to Thedas. Gregory – no, Tarian – his pupils wide with fear and adrenaline, points to a blue-haired woman leaping toward a fucking ogre with nothing but her battle axe.

Jerran’s stomach lurches at the sight. Sarge. “Godsfucking dammit!” Getting Eleanor’s attention, he points to the sight and charges after Tarian. “SARGE!”  

Helplessly, almost in slow motion, he watches the ogre scoop Sarge up by one leg, twisting mercilessly. Jin screams and the monster flings her as carelessly as a bored child with an unwanted toy. She slams into the ground and lays terribly still.

Dropping to one knee, Jerran quickly assesses her condition, aware of Eleanor’s hands glowing with a healing spell as she works to slow the bleeding along with a second mage that joins them. Sarge’s leg…. 

Can’t think about it now. Roughly scooping Jin up over his shoulder, Jerran shouts to the others, “Let’s go,” before  sprinting across the field, slipping on gore. Mud created from spilled blood, Blight, and dirt clings to his boots. Distantly, he sees redness bloom across Tarian’s shoulder as the Warden helps clear the way; the man hisses and stabs the Darkspawn that was stupid enough to get in their path. 

After depositing Jin in the hands of the healers, Jerran and Eleanor return to the battlefield, pulling wounded Wardens to safety when they can, killing more Darkspawn. They assist Tish and several others to take down a raging ogre. When the creature is downed, the dwarf gives Jerran and Eleanor a cheerful thumb’s up. 

Wiping sweat and blood from his forehead, Jerran glances at Eleanor, noting the weary stance and blood matting her hair. “Ellie, do you need a lyrium or a health potion —” 

A bright flash of light – so bright that for a moment, Jerran’s blinded – accompanied by smoke rises in the sky along with the acrid smell of burning flesh and Blight. Blinking, he raises his hand to shield his eyes and he turns to see her. 

Kyra stands knee-deep in a pool of Blight, seemingly unaffected by the chaos and screaming around her. Sunset crimson hair –  streaked with blood, gore, and the dark ichor of Blight –  curls loose around her face, recognizable even now. Her small but upturned nose drips thick dark mucus, large eyes now bleeding black and glowing with red fervor, softly rounded cheeks infected with rot…. all familiar despite the differences.

A Warden attempts to attack; Kyra raises a hand, and a Darkspawn lackey intercepts the unsuspecting warrior. With barely a scream, the helmeted Warden sinks beneath the creature’s teeth and claws.

Jerran’s stomach lurches as she turns and her gaze is fixed on him for a brief moment. Then her blighted gaze slides to somewhere behind him. 

“Vhenan?” Eleanor’s voice, from behind. “Is that. ….”

No, not now. Please, Maker. Jerran swallows. “It is,” he says hoarsely. 

Kyra’s eyes snap back to Jerran’s and she smiles that same smile that he once found so winsome and charming. No, not quite the same; the teeth now black and sharp, rotting from Blight. 

Kill her. Save others.

He hesitates.

An Emissary chooses that time to attack; only Eleanor’s warning and a streak of Necrotic energy shooting over his shoulder snaps Jerran out of his stupor and he raises his shield in time to defend himself. By the time the Darkspawn is dispatched, Kyra is gone.

“Jerran!” Zae charges over the field, panting heavily. “Was that –”

Jerran nods as he pulls his sword free from the Emissary’s twitching body. “She saw Eleanor – watch for her.” 

Distantly, he hears a roar and someone shouts about enchanted balistas. It’s almost over. 

—--- 

The rest of the battle is a blur of darkness, marked by red glowing eyes and dark blood under the stars. Later, Kayden tells him that Rook managed to wound Ghilly-mane; rumors abound that Elgar-dud showed up and rescued her. But no one’s completely sure. Godsdamned…. gods.

Two things Jerran knows –  the fucking dragons are dead. And he and Eleanor are safe.

Afterwards, he barely manages to stumble back to the Lighthouse, passing by the unconscious and wounded. Tamrain groans as the healers work to repair a broken leg; Alaine lays unconscious on a passing cot. 

Every muscle screams in agony, his body shakes as he comes down from the high of battle and the runes siphon off his own life force. 

After enduring the usual Blight cleansing – can’t have it back at the Lighthouse– Jerran waves off the healers before making it back to the small apartment with Eleanor's help. They silently pull off their filthy clothing, leaving it piled on the mudroom floor, before retiring to the washroom to scrub away the dirt. 

Clean clothes have never felt so good.

Downstairs, he pulls out several lyrium and health potion and sets them on the coffee table before collapsing on their sofa. Handing one to Eleanor, he downs it and shudders as the runes greedily consume the mana. 

Eleanor, her face weary but unharmed, sits next to him and places her head against his shoulder. With some effort, he wraps an arm around her. No words are needed.