This was not the way Avery expected to be ending the day. She adjusted and readjusted her clammy hand around the hilt of the dagger at Anders' back, losing track of how long she'd been standing there trying to do it. Everyone was expecting her to do it, to end the life of the man who'd just blown up the Chantry. And she almost had. For a moment the tip of the blade pierced the thick leather of his robe and a tiny bulb of crimson appeared. But then she hesitated, unable to complete the motion. The hesitation became a frozen half-paralysis that stretched on and on until her companions started groaning and kicking at rocks and sticks. But how could she do it? How could she possibly?
She'd killed so many people over the years. She'd never liked that fact but it was a necessary part of her job, and here she was waffling at taking the life of just one person, and this particular person, Anders, deserved it. He'd manipulated her into being part of an act of terrorism, killing every single person who had the misfortune of being within the Chantry at the wrong moment. But the worst of it, the part that make Avery sick to her stomach, was the debris that rained down onto the city, bringing walls down on top of families sitting in their own homes. It rivaled the depravity of Meredith herself, and Anders had put some of that blood on her own hands. But yet, still, to her own disgust and dismay, Avery hesitated.
The Anders she'd originally met had been kind and generous, delivering babies and setting bones for anyone who'd needed it without asking for anything in return. They'd gotten to know each other over his clinic tables, with him encouraging her budding skills with healing, showing her tricks and letting her practice carefully under his masterful guidance. He'd been charming and witty, and had an irresistible, laughing glint in his eye that birthed legions of butterflies in her stomach even before he'd started openly flirting with her.
And when she'd finally had his love, it seemed so pure, so devoted and true. He'd had lovers before, had quite a wild past in fact, but was so patient with her inexperience, so tender and accepting of all her growing pains and flaws. He'd encouraged the adventurous side of her, the side which drunkenly suggested inviting Fenris home with them one fateful night two years after they'd come together. He'd taken her arguments to heart whenever she opposed one of his more extreme ideas, valuing her input and making her feel heard and appreciated. He'd held her for two straight days after they found her mother, on top of taking care of all the more practical arrangements that she couldn't bring herself to face.
For a time, for a brief joyous stretch of her life, she felt complete. Accepted and loved, living with purpose and surrounded by friends. And so much of that had been because of Anders. He'd embodied all that she had ever wanted in a love.
And then, inevitably of course, he'd broken her heart.
When Avery's mind finished running through their history, both the romantic and the more sordid details, what she came back to was the fact that he was also a healer without match in all of Kirkwall. If he died now, so died his ability to help others. Not only were there numerous people suffering in the city that very moment, but there was a war happening. Avery had officially chosen the side of the mages, and Meredith had given the order to kill every mage on sight, regardless of their involvement. Anders might have been the catalyst for the chaos, but he was also the reason she and all her friends remained alive after all the fighting they'd done over the past six years. She wasn't sure they'd make it through the battles to come without him.
The thought of facing the citizens of the city afterward at the side of the man who had both crippled them and offered their restoration, was conflicting at best. But in that way at least he could atone. He could try to make up for the damage he had caused, that they had caused together.
With a shaky hand she sheathed her dagger, finally letting out the breath of smoky, acrid air that she felt like she'd been holding in for an hour.
Instead she pushed him, jamming a fist into his back to urge him to stand. He flinched with the expectation of a blade, and then his head turned as it dawned upon him that the pain he was awaiting had not come.
"If I kill you now, I probably kill the whole lot of us," she said finally. Anders stood, and turned to face her, his brown eyes confused and searching. "You will fight, and keep us all standing, so that we can make it out of the coming battle alive. And after that you will help any injured innocents that need it. You are a healer, and you will heal this blighted mess to the furthest extent of your ability, do you understand?"
"You mean… stay with you?" he asked. "I didn't think you'd let me. But if you do, I will fight the Templars. Damned right I will."
"Yes you will fight, but more importantly, you will enable us to fight. That's your main job now. Don't fuck it up."
Avery could only scowl at him. In the back of her mind was the leaden guilt of her own hand in the murders he'd committed. Anders might have lied, might have jerked her around with a story he knew she'd find sympathetic, but she'd also ignored so many red flags. His secrecy, his erratic behavior, the fact that he was openly hiding his plan from her… she should have known better. Or at least played it safe. Perhaps she was making the same mistake again in letting him live. But she felt her own chances of living were improved with him around, at least until the bulk of the fighting was done. If, after it was all over and he'd salvaged what he could, and everyone was still calling for his head… then perhaps she'd let them have it.
There was one especially elucidating factor to their current predicament: staring a wholesale apocalypse in the face brought one's priorities into crystal clear focus. There was one thing she was living for now, and that thing would be fighting on the opposite side of the war than she was herself. But somehow, she'd find a way to ensure that both she and Cullen made it out alive, so that they both could leave the city together as they'd planned. It was one of the few things that still mattered.
Aveline and Merrill had arrived, and the entirety of her party stood at the ready. They were to make their way to the Gallows, where Meredith was preparing to carry out the Right of Annulment.
Within the first hour of slogging through Lowtown, Avery knew she'd made the right decision in bringing Anders along. He stayed to the rear as he usually did, but followed Avery's instructions to the letter, focusing most of his mana on replenishing barriers and keeping the whole party's strength up, while she and everyone else fought held the frontlines, taking down Templars and blood mages, Shades and Rage Demons. She'd tossed Anders the few vials of lyrium she kept in a pouch at her belt, and let the blades on her staff take over when her own mana was low.
The streets were burning. Crumbled remains of buildings blocked passageways and courtyards were littered with fresh corpses. With every Templar that charged them, Avery looked for Cullen. Surely he wouldn't attack once he saw her, despite his orders, but she couldn't say for certain that her group wouldn't attack him. There was little time to think, but in the hurried steps taken between pockets of homicidal maniacs she tried decide upon the best course of action once he was finally spotted.
If he was spotted. As soon as the possibility whispered itself into her ear, she froze in place, stricken dumb with fear. What if Cullen had been in the Chantry? What if he had even just been close to the Chantry? An explosion of that magnitude would have taken down everything within a couple block radius at the very least. She knew he visited sometimes. He often smelled like the incense there for Maker's sake. For a moment, the world spun around her and she had to take a step forward just to be certain she was still standing on her feet, and was not in fact in the process of falling to the ground. She swallowed hard, blinking back the panic that swelled in her throat, that knocked on the bars of her chest like a wild animal trying to escape its cage.
"Hawke?" Varric asked worriedly.
A chunk of stone fell heavily from a wall beside them, crashing to the street with a deafening crack. It was enough to startle her back into the moment, and she felt the eyes of her friends upon her, waiting for her to give the next command. She tried to shake the panic out of her mind, but felt it continuing to vibrate just under the surface. She didn't have time to get overcome with emotion, and there was an equal chance that he was fine. She'd have to operate under that assumption until she had reason to think otherwise. She took a deep breath, and continued forward.
When they'd finally reached the pier for the boat to the Gallows, the black clouds were threatening more rain. Lightning flickered in the distance and the wind whipped the waves of the harbor into frothy peaks. The boat was sitting empty, ready to take them on to the Gallows, without a single other passenger nearby. While Kirkwall burned, its residents hid and scrambled to salvage loved ones and valuables, with none of them apparently making any attempt to flee. But then the Gallows was the last place any sane person should be trying reach. As ground zero for both mages and Templars, they'd be lucky if the place wasn't one big graveyard by the time they arrived.
The ride across the channel was both unbearably long and over much more quickly than she was prepared for. They rode in complete silence, each member of her party retreating to someplace deep within themselves as they waited for the Gallows to emerge from the mists like a ghost. Avery stood at the bow of the boat and dug the blade of her dagger into the tip of a finger, dragging the stream of blood that spilled forth across the bridge of her nose. It was a mark that meant so many things to her. It represented the strength in her blood, the ties that bound her to her family and her ruthless determination to protect those she loved, by any means necessary. It was the switch she flipped before she blocked out her humanity and became a killing machine. She hoped six years of fighting criminals and miscreants had been enough to prepare her for the battle to come, but if it hadn't been, then at least she likely wouldn't live to see the consequences of her failure.
Even before the boat touched the dock Avery was on the move, racing swiftly ahead as she twirled her staff in preparation. Pounding the ground behind her were the steps of her companions, trusting her as they always did to lead them into danger and then back out again, but this was one battle whose outcome she could not predict. The mages were susceptible to corruption, and demons did not take sides. Once a mage had become an abomination, they would fight anyone unlucky enough to be close, turning against friend and foe alike. But it was the innocents there, the mages that remained strong and untainted that she held in her mind. She thought of Jorah and Sadie, Bethany and her father, and numerous other mages she'd known over the years. She'd fight for them, for a world where they wouldn't be stuck between a rock and a hard place, with only the help of monsters to break them free. She'd fight for Cullen, and Thrask and Emeric, and all the Templars who did not lose their souls to brutality and fear and suspicion.
But also, she just wanted to survive long enough to get the Void out of Kirkwall. She wanted a family, to nurture life and love for a change, and not have to spend all her days constantly facing down death.
They stepped around and over the corpses of fallen Templars, entering the courtyard of the Gallows to see Orsino and a group of mages taking down the last of several metal clad bodies. The Gallows too was burning, and blinding flashes of light carved spots into her vision as mages threw every spell they could muster at attacking Templars.
"First Enchanter!" Avery called across the chaos.
Orsino waved Avery in, urging her to follow as he and several others retreated up the stairs. "Champion! You've survived, thank the Maker! We must —"
"And here you are." Meredith cut in, calling loudly as she approached behind Avery. She turned and felt relief wash over her as her eyes fell upon Cullen, walking just behind Meredith, his face as pale and ashen as a gravestone. But at least he was alive and whole. Orsino and Meredith barked commands and threats to each other as each approached the other for yet another face off, but Avery heard little of it, her attention consumed by the calming effect of Cullen's presence. His eyes founds hers and whispered a wordless apology.
"Speak if you have something to say," Meredith commanded Orsino.
"Revoke the Right of Annulment, Meredith. Before this goes too far. Imprison us if you must. Search the tower. I will even help you," he pleaded. "But do not kill us all for an act we didn't commit."
Avery glanced over at Anders, who was standing stock still, his jaw set and mouth drawn into a thin, quivering line. She could see that he was biting his tongue. Clearly he wanted the mages to fight, not offer a compromise. She glared at him pointedly until his attention was drawn to her and she sent him a silent warning, a look that instructed in no uncertain terms that he was to stay silent. Cullen was watching them too, his face drawing into a mask of disgust as he looked at Anders, and then back at Avery. The disgust did not fade entirely away when his eyes met hers again. There was deep disapproval there, she saw. He too clearly believed she should have killed him. She could only hope that later he might understand her reasoning.
"Your offer is commendable Orsino, but it comes too late," Meredith said, and if Avery didn't know better, she'd almost think the expression on Meredith's face was remorseful.
"So then what is it to be Meredith, do we fight here?" he asked.
"No. Go prepare your people Orsino. The rest of the Order are crossing the harbor now."
Before turning away and following Orsino deeper into the Gallows, she flashed Cullen a parting glance, one that she prayed to the Maker wasn't her very last.
When the Templars finally broke down the Gallows gate and charged, the mages fell quickly. Wave after wave of metal bodies surged forward, doubling and then tripling the size of the crowd. Their swords sliced through robes and flesh like knives through butter, and they moved with lethal precision, distracting separated mages so that they could be flanked and impaled before they had any clue what was even happening. But the mages fought hard despite their overwhelming opposition. Blazing fireballs cooked Templars within their armor while bolts of lightning jumped from from metallic body to metallic body. A few mages erected ice walls, bottlenecking the flood of Templars and temporarily slowing their progression deeper into the Gallows. Shockwaves of silencing quieted the roar of magic and the battle cries of bloodthirsty Templars became the loudest sound in the courtyard. The mages began retreating en masse, running deeper and deeper into the corridors of the Gallows building, running up stairs and splitting off into long hallways, finding themselves cornered against locked doors.
Bits of the speech Orsino gave to his collection of mages came to Avery periodically as battles bled from one section of the Gallows to another. He'd told them that their job was to survive, to escape and spread the word of what had happened to the Kirkwall Circle. The implications of his instructions took a while to sink in, and as she connected herself to the Fade and wove devastating spells of destruction, a little part of her mind remained quiet and contemplative. This conflict would not stay in Kirkwall now, she realized. The mages who made it out would carry their outrage and tales of oppression far and wide, and the rebellion would spread. This was the start of something much bigger than just a clash of factions in one dirty Free Marcher city. This truly was the beginning of a revolution, just as Anders had intended. Even if Meredith were to fall, even if she and Cullen were to run, eventually this conflict would still catch up with them.
The fighting within the Gallows spawned horrors and demons as everyone expected, but what was not expected was the monstrosity that Orsino became. He had to have known that when he took his blade to his arm and gave in not just to blood magic, but to a spell darker than anyone had ever seen, that he would turn on his fellow mages, that he would deal a massive blow to his own side. And yet that did not stop him. Avery cursed his name as she sent barrage of spell after spell toward the beast of death, adding to Anders' protective barriers around Aveline and Fenris with her own magic, aiding those allies who did all their fighting up close.
It took what felt like hours. Hours of staring into the face of a nightmare, draining herself down to the last drops of mana before rushing in and slicing with her staff blades. Hours before finally they all collapsed to take a few precious breaths, pausing for a beat before rushing on to join the rest of the fight.
The next corridor that they emptied into was so filled with shades and Rage demons that it seemed every mage left standing had given themselves over. Fenris had been holding his tongue for most of the battle, but now Avery began to hear grumbles from him, decrying the weakness that let so many fighters turn and add their numbers to the other side.
Once through the waves of demons, came only more Templars. Avery kept an eye searching for one acting different than the others, one who wasn't attacking. But with their helmets down they all looked exactly the same. She had no choice but to barrel on, to take them down one by one until one of them gave her reason to pause.
By now her team was working at peak efficiency, their muscles loose and minds completely tuned into each other, anticipating each other's needs and shielding each other's weaknesses. It came as easily as breathing, moving with familiarity born of years and years of life-or-death battles. Anders was putting every bit of himself into protecting them, and as soon as she bore a wound she felt her flesh begin to knit back together, aches and gashes disappearing in halos of warmth. On at least two occasions she took a blow from a Templar sword that should have been fatal, but hadn't been only due to Anders' attentive casting.
The Templars continued to come in a blur, followed by demons and the occasional pocket of mages not yet turned into abominations. Survive, she urged them silently, not having even a second to stop to deliver encouraging words, or to take a breath. The Templars themselves seemed to be drained, and Avery and her companions brutally dispatched two groups who'd stopped to chug vials of lyrium, their silencing abilities drained entirely. The further they advanced into the depths of the Gallows, the more Avery began to anticipate the inevitable showdown with Meredith.
"Save what strength you can," she called to her companions over the clangs of blades and crashes of magic. "The worst is yet to come."
They'd entered a large courtyard that opened up to the bare sky, the churning storm clouds hanging low and bulbous, heavy with impending rain. She didn't know how they'd made it into such a corner, but she'd never been that far into the Gallows in all her time in Kirkwall. It seemed to be a sparring room, with wooden dummies scattered along the walls. And it was packed full of fighting bodies. A procession of mages and Templars had found themselves back there, unable to find an exit without turning to their rear. Avery continued her fighting, sending Templar after Templar crashing to the ground, but there were so many, and the quarters were so close that she began to feel dizzy. Several of them seemed to have spotted and targeted her in particular and she spun, deflecting the blows from several men that came simultaneously. She blurred her eyes and focused on her peripheral vision, trying to see the many coming blades at once. Fenris, Aveline and Varric had been swallowed up in the swarm of fighting figures, while Anders cowered in a corner, with Merrill keeping herself positioned solidly between him and those who were attacking.
The onslaught was unending, the angry Templars seemingly unlimited in number, and finally her energy began to flag. She banged the blade of her staff against one Templar who approached from the rear, trying to push him back while at the same time she fired a spirit bolt at another advancing from the front, but from the side stood yet another, his sword raised and ready to crash upon her. She cowered instinctively, wondering if this was it, if this was finally the moment she would leave this world.
But another blade blocked his blow, sword meeting sword in a deafening clash, and the man who held the protective blade delivered a swift kick to the man from the rear who'd recovered from her own shove and was advancing again. Before she fully understood what had happened, a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her out of that section of the fray, leading her back toward a wall.
"It's me," he said, his voice tinny from beneath his helmet. She sighed a great sigh of relief, filling her burning lungs with air she hadn't realized she'd been missing. "We need to get out of this room. It's a death trap."
"We can't, the exit is completely blocked," she cried.
He put himself between her and the rest of the fighting, diving immediately into crowd of people before her. She kept her eyes trained on his body, trying not to lose track of him. She needed to mark him somehow, she realized, so she could be sure not to accidentally attack him, and keep her companions from attacking him as well. Beside her feet lay an eviscerated mage, dead eyes opened to the black sky above them. Not knowing what else to do, Avery thrust her hand upon the gory wound at the corpse's breast, pulling back fingers soaked thickly with blood. Before she lost track of him again, she surged forward and wiped a deliberate swipe of red along his back, painting a vivid mark over his armor. He turned for a second, pausing to observe the strange contact. And her own attention was caught as out the corner of her eye a mage was powering up her sparking hands, about to send a blast of a spell in Cullen's direction. She slammed her staff to the ground, bringing up a solid protective orb around him, and the flickering bolts of electricity hit the barrier and dissipated away. The mage looked at her in confusion, eyes dark and suspicious, before a shiny sword swiftly removed the mage's head.
She blinked and looked around the room again, sizing up her next attackers, but Cullen had already sighted them himself, two more Templars rushing over fallen comrades and scrambling in her direction. Cullen was before them in a blink, strategically choosing a mage target in order to keep himself between the rushing Templars and Avery, making himself yet another obstacle to their approach in a way that wouldn't overtly call attention to his intention. She kept the barrier around him strong, and aimed the bolts from her staff at other mages that tried to approach him from the side. The chaos in the room was quickly thinning, the ground covered in a soft carpet of bloody bodies, and she was able to see her party again.
Fenris was glowing blue and incorporeal, moving with an unnatural speed as he appeared almost instantaneously from target to target. Varric had chosen a corner on the far side of the room and he was keeping Bianca busy, occasionally dashing into the fray to retrieve spent arrows. Aveline was a brick wall, unmovable and indomitable, knowing exactly where the weak spots in the Templar's armor was and piercing straight through with her blade. Merrill had resorted to blood magic, but she seemed to have it well under control, and her defense of Anders so far had been without considerable challenge. Anders, for his part, kept his head down and their barriers high, absorbing damage and responding immediately to injury.
Soon there were fewer Templars than there were mages, with Cullen being one of the last standing. Avery stepped out of his shadow and faced down the mages who looked menacingly to him as they awaited restored mana for their next attack. She pointed her own bolts at the three remaining Templars in the middle of the room, surrounded now by at least a dozen opponents. Bloodied and weary they might have been, but they were still standing. Seeing an opening, and their inevitable demise before them, the three Templars turned and fled the room, stumbling over piles of corpses as they clambered for the now-unblocked door. The mages followed, emptying the room of all but Avery, her companions, and Cullen.
The roaring stillness around them lasted only several heartbeats, before Merrill and Anders were advancing on her, and she realized it was the Templar behind her that they sought.
"No!" she cried, thrusting a hand forward and calling up another barrier wall between them. "This is the Knight-Captain. Leave him be."
The eyes in the room were wide with confusion, but no one moved. Eventually, they all collectively relaxed.
Merrill turned around and began tittering all over Anders, while Anders inspected an injury that Aveline sustained. The silence was quickly replaced by groans and quiet questions to each other, as they all took a moment to get their bearings in the rare moment of rest. Satisfied that they would obey her order, Avery felt her body unwind, grateful for this pause in the chaos, grateful that Cullen remained safe and alive.
She turned to see him removing his helmet, his skin glistening with sweat, chest heaving and wide pupils staining his eyes a bottomless black. A stream of blood poured from his ear, and he pulled off a glove to inspect a deep gash at the inner crease of his elbow. Avery's staff clattered to the ground as she rushed toward him, picking up his arm gently and immediately running a glow of healing over his wound. It was deep, and whatever had caused it had nicked a tendon and drained him of a large volume of blood. The way he'd fought, she'd never have guessed he bore such a wound. When his flesh there was whole again, she looked up into his face, bringing up her hands to his ear, but before she could move to assess the head injury, her mouth was caught up in his, his lips smashing into hers as one of his arms wrapped around the small of her waist to pull her close. His ungloved hand reached up to cup her cheek, running the pads of his fingers along her jaw and cheekbone.
His embrace, like his kiss was desperate, panicked and he breathed jagged breaths out his nose as he restrained his own urgency. She melted gratefully into him. The room full of bodies, the distant clamor of fighting, the watchful eyes of her friends all fell away into blackness as she clutched him back with a blinding fervor. She let her hand slide around the blazing skin of his neck, the pulse of his jugular punching against her palm. The release of the pent up fear rushed through her, rendering her dizzy and shaky. None of the horrific endings she'd imagined him enduring while she battled had actually occurred. He was not maimed, he was not blood magicked, he was not crippled and bleeding out alone in a corner somewhere. He was here and in her arms, the metallic sting of lyrium on his lips, the familiar bulk of his body under her hands. And she was exultant. Her love was alive, and for the moment at least, was safe. She tilted her head and let his kiss delve as deep as they dared, the slight awareness of a room full of people slowly eeking its way back into her mind.
It took a moment for her to notice that the room had grown completely silent.
"Well, shit," said Varric.
She did not know how long the kiss lasted, only that when they tore themselves apart again, Cullen rushed to reapply his armor and then with a whispered explanation that Meredith was just down the last hall and would surely be looking for him, he slipped out the door. Avery's heart was in her throat when she turned to face the rest of the room, the startled eyes of her friends all watching her curiously.
"I don't want to talk about it," she told them gruffly and picked up her staff.
Meredith was just down the hall, he'd said. Avery approached her companions, assessing their condition and seeing them all tired, bruised and drooping. Anders watched her out the corner of narrowed eyes, clearly unhappy about the scene he'd just witnessed, but there was nothing Avery could do about that. Nor did she particularly care.
"Rest while you can, as the next group we encounter will likely contain Meredith and it appears we'll be fighting her ourselves," she told them.
"No, there are still mages standing yet," Merrill said. "There was a group of them before, they've got to still be around."
"Perhaps. I've a mind to send some of them back to Kirkwall. People there are still suffering, and with all of us here they are not getting any aid. Some mages need to make it out of here if they are going to help. If we all go in to face Meredith with the remainder of the mages, they may not survive."
"If you send away some mages, we may not survive," Varric added.
"I think our chances are good. Cullen will not attack me. And I may be able to reason with Meredith," Avery said.
"Meredith is past the point of reason," said Anders.
"Well, then I will take her on myself. If I can handle the Arishok I should be able to handle the Knight-Commander," she told them. "Stay here and rest, while I locate the other mages."
Fenris strode forward, joining her as she turned to the door. "I will not let you wander these halls alone, Hawke. Not when there is still the risk of attack."
Avery nodded and led him out.
Merrill was correct that a group of mages still lived, and she ran into them only steps away from the doorway. She waved them inside with the rest of her companions, and turned to address the group. There were many more of them than she realized, and that fact was encouraging. Their eyes all looked to her, and she felt a rush of purpose as she carefully considered her words. Finally, she took a deep breath, and spoke.
"As we all fight here, people are dying in Kirkwall. The streets are burning. People's homes are falling down around them. Some of you must leave here and head into the city to help. If you want the people to see that mages have a place in this world, that your Maker given abilities can be a gift as much as a curse, then you must go help them now. If you have force magic, clear the streets and rescue trapped residents. If you have ice, put out the fires. If you have healing, tend to the wounded. If some of you would volunteer to face Meredith with me now, I would welcome the aid. But the citizens of Kirkwall need you too. Once that has been looked after, then you can do as you will. Leave if you must, spread the word of what has happened here and maybe all this death won't have happened for naught. Go find a boat, and return to help the people. Some of them won't want your aid. They might try to fight you, and resist your attempts to assist, but you must render it anyway. Show them that we do not all deserve their fear and disdain."
She was relieved to see faces harden with determination, and heads nodding in agreement.
"Decide amongst yourselves who will stay and who will go, and when everyone is ready the rest of us will see if Meredith can be brought down. It's time to end this."
She walked away from them as they all turned inward and began debating. Aveline nodded in approval while Anders sidled up beside her.
"What of me? Should I go with them, or stay with you?"
She thought for a moment, feeling the green spotlight of Fenris' eyes awaiting her decision. She knew that if she sent Anders out to the city, that he would do as she'd commanded. He'd heal as many as he could, which would be many more than any other mage there. But she also knew that once there was no one left to save, he would flee. If she sent him with the mages now, it would likely be the last she saw of him.
But there might be people there who needed healing of his magnitude. She certainly couldn't offer it herself, and neither could any other mage within the Circle. And when he did disappear, then at least she wouldn't be tasked with sticking a dagger through his heart. As much as he might have deserved it, the thought of killing her friend was too much for her to bear.
"Go with them," she said. He nodded, and brought a hand up to squeeze her arm. He lingered for a moment, watching her with a turmoil of unspoken words behind his eyes, and then he slipped into the crowd of robed mages.
The hall led to the rear Courtyard, and she entered at a sprint, followed by her friends and a dozen battle ready mages. She instructed the mages to hang back at the edge of the courtyard and wait until the fighting began, then she turned and advanced boldly toward the congregation of Templars on the furthest side of the square. Meredith was standing there calmly, arms crossed, waiting. Beside her, his face as smooth as stone, stood Cullen.
"And here we are Champion, at long last," Meredith said ominously.
"I imagine you've wanted to be rid of me for some time," Avery answered.
"I bear you no ill will. You've done this to yourself."
Something in Meredith's demeanor was different, enough to raise the little hairs on the back of Avery's neck. Her eyes seemed distant somehow, icy pools of blue that were flat and empty. Cullen's face as he watched Meredith changed slightly, just enough to show Avery that he too was uneasy. Of course he had every reason to be, but he'd been so adept at keeping all hint of emotion off his face when they were all together thus far, that this little slip from him only served to heighten the sense of foreboding. Avery steeled her back, mentally preparing herself for what was probably going to be a complete diplomatic failure, likely ending in yet more bloodshed. She'd hoped the others had recovered some of their energies, as they'd need it.
"In fighting on behalf of other mages," Meredith continued, "you have elected to share their fate."
Cullens brows furrowed and he stepped forward.
"Knight-Commander, I thought we intended to arrest the Champion?" he asked.
Her face twisted into a sneer, "You will do as I command Cullen."
He paused a moment, looking to Avery in warning. She adjusted her stance, bracing herself on shaky legs for the possibility of attack.
"No!" he barked. "I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad. But this is too far."
Meredith reacted instantly, the intensity of her ire escalating into a mad fury in the blink of an eye.
"I will not allow insubordination!" Meredith screamed and drew her sword, pointing it at Cullen. The sword thrummed sickeningly, glowing with veins of pulsating scarlet. Avery jumped to his side, but he threw an arm out to hold her back. Avery's body went light as it flooded with adrenaline, her hand twitched for the staff secured to her back and she heard the unrest of her friends behind her, their feet crunching against the ground as they readied themselves for another battle.
"We must stay true to our path!" Meredith's voice was a shriek. The other Templars startled noticeably, distancing themselves from the new target of the Knight-Commander's wrath. Cullen glared at Meredith but put his hands up and took a step away.
Varric grumbled something, catching Meredith's attention.
"You recognize it, do you not?" She turned to him, suddenly amused and calm.
"Pure lyrium, taken from the deep roads," Meredith explained. Her eyes were rapturous, entranced and dark. She ran her hand lovingly along the scarlet blade. The hum it emitted made Avery's stomach roil. "The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize."
"It seems a lot more sword-like than I remember," Avery remarked. She knew it wasn't the time for an attempt at humor, but couldn't seem to help herself.
"All of you!" Meredith screeched, her fury raging hard again as she addressed the throng of soldiers behind her." I want her dead!" Meredith pointed her sword toward Avery, marking her as the Templar's solitary target.
"Afraid to do it yourself, are you?" Avery asked with a raised eyebrow. She'd no doubt antagonizing Meredith was exactly the wrong thing to do, but Avery was beginning to feel decidedly like she'd had enough. She just wanted the fight to start, so that it could be finished.
Cullen stepped before Avery again, standing tall and proud against the frightening scowl of the Knight-Commander.
"No! This is not what the Order stands for! Knight-Commander step down. I relieve you of your command!"
Meredith's flat eyes grew wild and she almost smiled at Cullen. "My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic! You all have! You're all weak, allowing the mages to control your minds! To turn you against me!" She whipped around, jabbing her sword into the faces of the gathered Templars. Avery saw nothing rational left in those cold eyes of hers, only delusion, fear and suspicion.
"But I don't need any of you! I will protect this city myself!"
Cullen raised his sword and stepped forward again. His jaw was set, his eyes made of blackened steel. "You'll have to go through me."
"Idiot boy. Just like all the others," she hissed menacingly.
"She's lost it, just like Bartrand," Varric whispered.
The fight that came drained every last ounce of energy from Avery. Her mana depleted quickly, and without Anders casting barriers and healing, she felt herself flagging fast. But it wasn't just Avery that began fighting Meredith, nor her friends and the mages, it was the Templars as well, and Cullen most of all. Meredith was imbued with a supernatural strength; a speed and command that could only have been aided by the sorcery of her sword. Avery whispered to the others to stay close, so she could cast a protective net around the lot of them with a single spell, instead of individually doling out barrier spells.
Varric kept right at her heels, dancing out of the way when she moved, maneuvering faster than she'd ever seen him move before. Fenris hovered around Meredith, dodging swings while trying to angle himself to use his own lyrium-enhanced abilities, but Meredith countered him at every turn. Aveline and Cullen coordinated attacks, bringing forth sheer power mixed with carefully timed jabs and blows. They'd alternate trying to bait her into moves that exposed her weak points, while the other stood ready to strike. But Meredith was clearly well practiced in typical warrior tactics and saw exactly what they were attempting. The mages, for their part, threw blazing bolts of lightning, and tried their best to freeze her into place, allowing the Templars to rain blows upon her as she struggled to free herself from frozen shackles.
Meredith was muttering chants as she fought, her gaze vacant as she obeyed the calling of the lyrium madness. But to Avery's surprise, several well placed bursts of lightning sent Meredith staggering back, and for a moment she collapsed to her knees. Meredith began to pray out loud, and when she looked up and readied herself to rush back in, her eyes held the same red glow as the sword.
The rest of the battle was a blood soaked blur, Meredith calling upon the Maker to strengthen her as she fought. As the fight wore on, the red glow spread from Meredith's eyes and oozed over her skin, transforming her into a smoldering monster, possessed by a madness she could not control. Avery reached the limits of her endurance and was forced to dig deep for energy reserves that tugged at her connection the Fade. The spirits there felt her flagging, and her ears were filled with the whispers of Pride, Rage and Desire… offering once again a solution to her predicament. But Avery blocked them out, finding the energy she needed in the memory of her fear for Cullen, of the bodies hanging from the nooses outside the Gallows entrance, of the threat of Cullen being one of those bodies. She watched him fight when the chance arose, taking a breath to regain some stamina, and somehow within the chaos she found herself enamored with him all over again. His movements were smooth and efficient, his energy streamlined and flowing effortlessly from one attack to another, so that no move was wasted. His eyes were fierce and dark and Avery had no doubt that as soon as the opportunity rose, Cullen would strike the killing blow upon his own Knight-Commander without hesitation.
Avery channeled the months of rage at her fear for Cullen into her magic, drawing a storm around them that circled and lashed, whipping her hair into her face and unleashing a torrent of energy beyond anything she'd ever been capable of before. Templars looked up wildly, wondering if it was the black clouds above them breaking open again, but quickly saw that Avery herself was the source, standing in control of forces usually reserved for nature itself.
But when it came down to it, no killing blow or bolt of lightning or spear of ice was needed. The scarlet glow infected every inch of Meredith, and then it spread to the air around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of malicious magic. When she fell to her knees and screamed, the sound drove every fighting Templar away and the whole battle came to a standstill. The echoes of her unnaturally loud cry faded slowly, withdrawing tendrils of an eerie singing force back into the ether, taking with it the cloud of red corruption. And all that was left, was a shriveled, petrified statue.
Avery and the rest of the group stood blinking in disbelief. She felt blood dripping down her temple, and a sting at her arm where a sword had made contact, but had no mana available for healing. Her companions limped and groaned, but amazingly, they all lived. As did every mage that had elected to join her.
Time passed without measure as bodies collapsed in rest and swords and staffs clattered to the ground. Cullen gathered the remaining soldiers around him and a low murmur of conversation erupted, with helmets removed and reverent eyes watching Cullen for direction. Avery saw that he was wholeheartedly accepted as their new leader already, and in the back of her mind came a realization that she was not prepared to face. After all that had occurred, all that had been lost and gained, the most precious thing of all was slipping away from her before her very eyes.
She knew what he was coming to say as he approached, his amber gaze sullen and stoic. She would hear him out, let him say the words that would destroy her more utterly than any blade, and wait until she was within the walls of her home before she would break. Whenever that was. First, she would have to join the mages currently trying to excavate the residents of the city from the rubble. At least that might occupy her mind for a while. Maybe she could delay her own self-destruction, put off her descent into the inevitable despair until tomorrow. There was still too much to do.
Cullen took his place by her side, and turned away to stare down at the frozen red figure.
"The men are still calling for your arrest," he said, keeping his voice soft enough that only she could hear. "But I told them that wasn't happening yet. The city still needs your aid."
Avery said nothing.
"I wish we could do this somewhere else, love. But… there is much work to be done. I am the Knight-Commander now, and… we must begin to repair what is lost. The Order is in shambles. It was in shambles already."
She nodded, swallowing down the anguish that was creeping up behind her eyes and threatening tears. How ridiculous would it look for the Champion of Kirkwall to start crying now, she thought. Battle armies of demons and Templars without a care, but the new Knight-Commander utters a few words and she's immediately reduced to a blubbering puddle. How fitting.
"They might not have needed me before… but they do now. This is all on me now. It has to be."
"Right. So no more lover's vacation in Ferelden then." She sighed, trying to maintain her composure. She knew that wasn't the least of it, but she wanted to hear him say it. She'd not been able to let him go when she'd tried to break it off herself. Letting him make the break would have to be the one that finally stuck.
He sighed sadly. She dared not look into his face.
"It's more than just that, Avery. I didn't want this. It kills me to do it, I hope you know that. But even if I'd have the time for you… and there's no way I will… and the men, if they knew I was sneaking around with a mage…"
His words lingered painfully, caught in his throat. He might as well have said it, she figured. Maybe she'd relieve him of this one. It was clearly hurting him too.
"I got it," she said. "I understand."
"I had to take that opportunity for a last kiss earlier. I hope it didn't get you into too much trouble with your friends."
"It's fine."
"I'm sorry. I love you." His voice shook as he spoke the last words. She could have been slowly turning to stone herself, just as Meredith just had.
"I'm sorry," he said again. And then he was gone.e.