Shit shit Maker damn them all to hell shit shit fucking shit! Eve could see them below, demons and darkspawn. The entrance courtyard was teaming with them, and she was barely able to stem the panic that rose as she realized that there were too many, far too many. The few men and women who had been on guard there would be lost. There may have been no love lost between them and her, but she whispered a quick prayer to the Maker for their souls. Perhaps if Kirkwall had had the manpower before the fall of its Circle there would have been enough, but now there were not. At this point the best option they had was to try to get to the ferry and blow the whole place to smithereens from a safe distance, but even that hope was faint, Eve thought, as she gazed across the courtyard at the multitude of monstrosities between them and safety.

Luckily, she'd been on the roof to begin with, and her swords were already drawn. With a few jumps and a whisper she was across the compound and through a window into the main building where a semi-organized chaos greeted her. The officers were yelling and forming ranks whilst the mages threw every heavy object possible in front of the great doors. It would not hold for long. A small flood of relief swept through her when she saw the Captain at the front of his men. Damn man. She admired and was annoyed that he hadn't taken advantage of his rank and directed from the back.

"Captain!"

He spared her a quick glance over his shoulder, but a booming shudder rocking the door redirected his attention. She streaked through the hall to the front of the Templar ranks.

"Captain, there are at least three hundred demons and darkspawn out there, and more than one mage who summoned them. We can't fight them."

The set of his jaw was tight and grim. "We don't have a choice, Enchanter. The only way out is through that door."

"Then we go out the back, into the sea."

"There are rocks under those windows. You wouldn't survive the jump."

"There must be enough rope somewhere, or something we can tie together to climb down."

He considered it a moment.

"Look, we'll never make it out alive if we don't try. There are few enough of us that we can go quickly, and once we are at the bottom, the mages can make sheets of ice to escape the island. Once we are away, we can alert the guard and have ships brought to destroy the place."

"Fine." He turned to the men behind him. "Ricks! Coren! Find rope and take everyone out through the bottom windows of the Eastern tower!" His men were only too quick to obey.

"Go, enchanter."

"While you do what?" Eve raised a hand, a massive barrier blooming outwards in front of her, caging in the doors and the debris that was holding them. "I'm far more use here than you are, Captain." The light bravado in her voice was entirely show, but fear got you killed, and a smile kept you calm. Those had been Sam's words.

"How long can you hold it?"

"A few minutes." Another forceful thump jolted the door. Maybe fewer.

His lips thinned in concern. He'd noticed her flinch as she pushed back against the rising tide. "When I say run, do it."

"Yes, Ser." The smile was pure force of will at this point. The minutes ticked by slowly, and Eve could feel herself losing energy. "I don't suppose you've got a lyrium potion on you?" Her forehead was moist with sweat at the effort of wringing every last drop of power from her body.

"No."

A full fifteen minutes had gone by when her well ran dry. This time the push that came from the other side almost broke through, staggering her as she shoved weakly back.

A gloved hand closed over her wrist. "That's it. Run."

With one last desperate outward surge of power, she threw a glyph into the floor to hinder whatever followed.

"Enchanter!"

They ran, or rather the Captain ran. She stumbled behind him, half pulled, her body already flagging from the earlier exertion. There was a not-so-distant explosion as the doors caved in, her glyph catching whatever vile creatures that had pressed through first. She hoped it would buy them enough time.

Both of them were breathing heavily after their sprint to the tower. The Captain as red-faced and perspiring, and Eve threw him a pitying glance. She didn't know someone could run so fast in heavy plate.

"Go." He leaned his hands on his knees, catching his breath, and waved her ahead of him towards the two thick ropes draped over the windowsill.

Eve took one rope, hauling herself up. It looked as if most everyone had made it down. One group was already pushing out from the shore on a frozen sheet of ice. Where's… They weren't there. No.

"What in the Makers name are you doing?!" But she was already sprinting back down the hall, her earlier fatigue wiped away by a mix of adrenaline and panic. They'd have gone down through the barracks first. At least it was farther away from the horde. Perhaps Sam had just judged it too dangerous, and she'd find them hiding. Maybe still on the roof. But they weren't in the barracks, and she couldn't see them from the roof.

"Enchanter!" She'd been too busy yelling for her brother and apprentice to slow down and answer him. He'd only have tried to drag her back to the tower anyways, and she didn't have time for that. "Eve!"

He'd never called her by her name before, and it startled her into stillness. She was looking back at him as he caught up with her, and was startled when a jagged, black-tipped arrow whistled past her, missing by inches.

"What in the Makers flames is wrong with you?" He barreled into her, pulling her down behind the low wall that bordered the roof. His voice turned to an angry whisper. "Stop yelling. They know we're here." She didn't care if the demons knew. She cared if her brother knew.

"I have to find them." She glared, eyes wide, daring him to forbid her.

She cared about the demons and darkspawn a moment later when a volley of black arrows rained over their heads. The Captain's shield barely made it over their heads in time as they scrabbled inwards, both of them making themselves as small as possible under its cover. "Well, it's not going to matter once we're dead," he hissed.

She didn't have time to retort. The rock wall blew inward, knocking them apart. Now, as she groggily scrambled for safety, dust filling her mouth and ears ringing, as she sought another section of wall, she did envy his armor. A shadow slipped over her.

"Are you hurt?" Nervous concern had replaced anger.

She spit dust from her mouth. "Yes, I think so." She ran her fingers gingerly over her face and torso just to be sure, then turned to look up at him. His shoulder plate had a nasty gouge, but other than that, a bleeding nose, and some other dents and scrapes, he appeared in acceptable condition.

"We've got to get out of here." Easier said than done.

She shut her eyes, weighing the very limited options in front her of her. They were pinned down. The rubble on the lower floors would make a direct route impossible, but it also hindered the path of their attackers upwards through the building. But there was nothing preventing them from climbing directly up the walls. She didn't risk peering over the edge, but the clang of metal against stone below suggested they were trying. She and the Captain, however, were effectively trapped. She had no magic to jump to another roof top, and even if she could, it would leave them vulnerable. And the door downwards was across the roof, and trying to get their without being plugged full of arrows was nigh impossible. Shit.

-"Please," he begged, "you have to."-

The memory of Roland's frightened voice floated back to her. She'd been here before. The last time had been with a terrified, tearful boy, helpless against a similar horde. She'd taken the risk out of a sheer desperation and need to protect him. But now she crouched, huddled close under a shield with a man she wanted to just as desperately to protect.

It's that or death. It might be death anyways once this was over.

"Drain me."

His brow contracted in surprise, disbelief evident in his face. "What? You already have nothing. How could that possibly help?"

"I've an idea. Don't ask me to explain it; it would take too long." She wrung her hands in front of her. Another hail of arrows scattered over them. They were running out of time. "Just drain me, with all you have, and don't stop until I say or we both die."

He eyed her warily. Please, let me save us… you. Of course it sounded crazy, but she needed him ignore that and do as she was asking. It was a lot to ask.

"Please, I'm not mad, I swear. But I just… I don't know another way," she poured every ounce of sincerity and urgency her tired body could muster into the plea. She prayed.

But a moment later a wave of power slammed into her, trying to suck away something that wasn't there. She collapsed to her knees, feeling like she'd been sucker-punched in the gut by a giant. Shit, he's strong. The man didn't get to be Knight Captain for nothing. The force of his smite ground into her, crushing the breath from her lungs and sending her stomach into a roiling, cramped knot. It was definitely stronger than when Sam did it, almost too strong. Perhaps she should have asked him to go easier on her at first. The pain was becoming overwhelming, and if she couldn't concentrate this would all be for naught.

She dropped farther, her hands out in front of her barely keeping herself from sprawling over the paving stones. She reached blindly, grasping.

Ah, there.

o.O.o

There was no way this was a good idea, but her earnest determination and their desperate situation convinced him to give in. As she fell to the ground, he wondered wildly why he'd gone along with this, how this could possibly fix anything.

Just as he was about to stop, she stirred, pushing herself slowly, shakily onto her feet. But as she rose, so too did the alarming realization that she was not drained. He'd smote her, was still smiting her, but instead of emptiness, energy surged up from within her.

Before, her magic had been tightly controlled, barely visible to his senses. Now it was a growing, pulsing storm, rising up and screaming for release. Power practically dripped from her, and as she took an unsteady, shaking step it flowed over, spilling and swirling around her.

His automatic impulse was to smite her, but he was already doing it, and the realization that this was what kept the raging storm in check was terrifying to him. She closed her eyes, and her stance steadied, breath slowing.

Her hand came up between them, and he stepped backwards, tensing. She dropped her arm a fraction in hesitation, and then let it fall to her side.

"How are you doing this?"

A mirthless smile turned up her lips. "Barely. You mustn't stop," she cautioned again. And with that the air between them thickened and blurred as thick, waving ripples of light materialized around him. She'd not moved nor spoken a spell, but the barrier she'd raised around him was more solid than any he'd seen.

She turned and pulled herself up onto the low wall of the barracks' roof. Then she stepped off the edge.

She fell too slowly, as if stepping down a stair rather than jumping from an eighty foot height. The creatures below had taken renewed notice and swarmed towards her. But, he realized, as they closed in on her, it was no longer a swarm. They were being pulled towards her, dragged and crushed into the ground as they went.

Those nearest tried in vain to attack, but it was fruitless. Blades cracked and broke. Fire and ice washed uselessly over the shield around her.

She walked towards the gates, away from the buildings, dragging the struggling horde with her. When she reached them, another barrier spread, enveloping both the Enchanter and the creatures surrounding her.

Then the storm broke. Within the confines of the barrier a swirling, frenzied hurricane of fire and ice raged, shredding and burning all caught inside. And when it was done and the glistening of the barrier was no more, an oily blackened pile of rubble and icy slurry was all that remained.

The First Enchanter carefully picked her way around the ruin, and with an impossible jump, landed delicately beside him on the rooftop.

The power around her was diminished, but remained in a thick, roiling cloud. Slowly, he sensed it misting outward, trickling through the Gallows.

Abruptly, it evaporated into nothing, and she was collapsing at his feet again.

"Stop!" she choked. He quickly complied. She was drained again.

"Enchanter…" he wasn't sure what to ask, and settled for holding out his hand to help her up.

"They're in the basement of the library."

"Let's go."

o.O.o

Oh, he must be furious. She steeled herself for the confrontation she was certain was coming. Whatever he had to say had had to wait. Once they'd found Sam and Roland, they made a sweep of the rest of the Gallows. There were only a few stragglers from the horde and no sign of those who had summoned them. Once the other residents of the Gallows had been rounded up and returned, she'd escaped to her office. There was no way they could stay after this. She only hoped he'd let her go back to Ferelden.

Eve wondered if that was possible at this point. Even another mage would fear what she held. She shook her head, and set herself to the task at hand – packing.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before she heard the crisp click of metallic feet. The door to her office slammed open so forcefully Eve wondered if he'd expected it to be barred against him. His hand was on the pommel of his sword. She let her eyes close briefly, collecting her wits. At least it's not in his hand. He stepped forward, and she blanched, stepping away.

"Explain."

She schooled her voice into a conversational tone. "You know, I've been harrowed twenty-seven times." Nothing said 'not a danger' like that did.

That brought him up short. Good, at least he was less likely to interrupt or take any rash action.

"As you know, there are nine varieties of demons. I've been harrowed three times for each type." She turned to pick up a book, dusting it off and depositing it in a trunk. She spoke calmly, as if explaining a mundane concept to a class of apprentices. "The tenth time was a bit tricky. After the first nine, my master made them surprises. He'd do it in my sleep or drug my meals at random." She turned towards him for the next part, the important part, and met his eyes. "I passed every single one."

"Why would he do that to you?"

"He…I'm still not sure what it is." It was true. Someday she'd find out though. "One day he asked me into his office to eat dinner before our lesson. I knew there was something in the wine; it tingled when I drank it. I thought it would be part of his lesson, but instead he just…died, slumped over the table dead." For now, she left out the fact that Roland had been with her, that she'd spilled the wine all over him as she scrambled frantically to Darion's side. "It's like a waking door into the fade. But it's a door that slams open and is too hard to close. Everything just comes spilling out.

"And you can't control it."

She looked away. "Not without help, no."

"I received a letter yesterday." The abrupt change of subject startled her. "From the White Spire. The mages have voted in favor of independence."

Her mouth worked trying to find the words. "I didn't know." You didn't say. She climbed the lower rungs of the shelf's ladder, searching for another book.

"The Circles are dissolving. Mages are leaving, many by force. The Divine has authorized the formation of an Inquisition."

One hand braced on the shelf as she swung around to face him, fire in her eyes. "Are you finally afraid of me then? Is that it? You think I'll do what that mage did, and try to level the city in an act of rebellion?"

"No." He let out a breath. His expression looked pained, and he kneaded the back of his neck, as if trying to will his world back to order and sanity.

"Hah! Well, everyone else will be when they find out." Her voice was sharp, bitter. "You know the funny part? I can't even hurt them with it, not unless I want to risk killing myself as well."

His jaw clenched an unclenched as he stared back. "Then why did you do it?"

"Maker, you really are thick." He had only a moment to stare at her in puzzlement before she'd taken hold of his collar and was yanking him forward, her lips crashing against his.

She'd tried not to overthink it, lest her better judgment prevail. He was the Knight Captain for Maker's sake. His shock lasted a moment too long for comfort, and for an instant Eve was afraid she'd made a terrible mistake. But next thing she knew she was pressed forcefully against the ladder, his arms wrapped around her, crushing her to him as he kissed her back with equal fervor.

The feel of his lips moving over her own, of his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth was an aching relief. His hands traveled down her sides, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her tighter against him. In that moment she rather felt armor to be a ridiculous invention. It briefly occurred to her that she'd never seen him without it. He probably looked rather fetching under all – A breathy moan escaped her when his mouth left hers to explore her neck, gently sucking and biting at the sensitive skin just beneath her jaw. His grip on her hips tightened convulsively at the sound, and he sucked in a breath, bringing one hand up to tangle in her hair, pulling her head back. How did a Chantry boy become so good at that?

"Well, well, would you look at that. Looks like all those rumors were true, eh boys?"

Fuck.