A/N: Warning: This chapter contains poorly written fighting scenes. You've been warned.

This includes graphic depictions of war violence.

War of the Laurels

By Spectre4hire

Denerim III

Fergus:

It had been hard enough to say goodbye the first time...

His eyes wandered aimlessly, but the memory of Oren's crumpled face kept swimming into view. Fergus had held him before they parted, which made him remember all those months ago when he embraced his family at Highever. The tug was short, but sharp. A cold coil of dread trying to tie itself between the two memories of the different partings.

"Your son is strong."

He looked over his shoulder at the visitor. It was Ser Cauthrien, she gave a respectful dip of her head before continuing her approach. "He's strong." She said it with the same iron certainty as she had the first time.

Fergus had never figured out his brother's thinking which led him down the path of using Cauthrien to protect Oren, but he couldn't refute the effectiveness of it. "Even the strongest metal can break," He muttered, regretting the words and the tone he used. She was trying to offer comfort and I just threw it back at her. He sighed, "Forgive me."

She gave a tight nod. She stood alongside him, her eyes looking down where the fields that surrounded Denerim had been abandoned. The hovels that had been erected to accommodate all the refugees had been torn down. They were no longer needed since they had been evacuated from the city.

Now, there were riders passing through the fields, scouts and guards on patrols. He spotted mages too, clustered with templars. They were laying their magical traps, setting glyphs. Grey Warden Mage Clarel was out there with them, offering suggestions while she cast her own spells.

"Your son made me promise him something," Cauthrien confessed. "He called it his last order," There was a warmth in her voice when talking of Oren, "To protect you, Lord Fergus and I swore to follow it." She said it in the stance of a soldier which made him know how serious she was taking Oren's order.

"Thank you," He felt a melancholy pinch within his chest at his son's absence despite the wisdom in the decision. I had just reunited with him and now... He didn't let the thought finish. "Thank you for everything you did for him." Fergus had said it to her before upon learning of her role in protecting Oren. And I must've said it at least another half a dozen times, he thought, remembering her stiff politeness when she received them each time.

"You're welcome," She seemed to shed the awkwardness that encumbered her in the past when fending off his repeated gratitude. She didn't meet his eyes, but didn't let any silence fill between them. "Your brother wishes to speak with you."

"Alright," He shouldn't have been surprised that her visit was for another purpose. Ser Cauthrien didn't seem the sort to wander the walls of Denerim offering comforts and counsel to those she came across. Pity, he thought, since she's good at it.

They had done their best to prepare Denerim. Any denizen of the city or refugee who wanted to leave had left with the Queen's armed caravan who were making their way to Amaranthine. Queen Anora offered safety and succor bringing foodstuff and providing protection to the thousands who followed. Those who stayed understood that they were to be put to work, to build, to prepare, to train, and to fight.

They were walking through the Market District to reach the Royal Palace.

The stalls were closed and boarded up. The merchants were replaced with soldiers and camps had been made with a diversity that was inspiring and surprising. There were dwarves, the first wave of support from Queen Valda Aeducan. They had made their camp in the opposite corner of the Gnawed Noble Tavern.

The templars and mages were making use of the Denerim Chantry and had positioned themselves around the building which they had made their base. In the gardens of various absent nobles' estates including Arl Eamon was where the Dalish elves had parked their aravels and set up their positions. There had been several Dalish clans who had heeded the call. Their banners were as beautiful as any nobleman's, waving in the breeze to signal where each Clan was positioned.

They had been wary and reluctant to camp inside the city's walls, past experiences cut deep with the Dalish, but the advancing darkspawn war parties made the elves reconsider their stance. It was not an unanimous decision, but in the end, the Dalish chose sense over stubbornness and accepted his brother's invitation into the city.

There were runners moving between the factions carrying reports and communiques between the various leaders. He watched an elf runner moving towards the Dalish encampment. From his angle, Fergus could even see the awe in the elf's large eyes when he passed under the red banner with the white halla stitched proudly on it. The runner then disappeared from sight when the two Dalish guards let him through. He felt their eyes on them when they passed, and Fergus gave what he hoped was a respectful nod towards the Dalish, but they just stared back, faces unmoving.

"It's amazing," He whistled, still impressed at the forces that had been gathered and were now working together. "My brother's outdone himself," he knew the treaties may have brought these diverse factions together, but one couldn't deny the impact his brother or new sister in law had made in keeping these new alliances from unraveling.

"It's impressive," Cauthrien's tone didn't convey any of it. "Though, I'll never say it in front of your brother."

The jape was unexpected, but welcomed as Fergus chuckled. "I'll say nothing." He held up his hand in a mock vow that made her mouth twitch.

He heard the sound of clattering swords before seeing the sparring yard which was crowded by onlookers as well as participants. It was a diverse group that included dwarves, elves, templars, mages, and wardens, interacting and training with one another.

It took him a long second before he spotted his brother who was further away, tucked in a secluded corner, but he wasn't alone. There were men and women mingling in both plate and leather armor. Their swords or bows in hand, as some shot at rings while the warriors sparred against each other. Edmund was fighting a pair of opponents, one dwarf and the other human. His brother's talent was on full display. His beautiful sword, Starfang seemed to leave a trail of bluish light wherever it went.

When they were younger, Fergus had been envious of his brother's skill with the sword and how easy it came to him.

Your brother's talent doesn't diminish you, darling. His mother had told him that after catching him watching his brother. He had slipped out of Aldous' session, bored of learning about laws and treaties and had gone to find his brother, watching quietly from his perch. He could picture his mother's warm smile as clearly as if she was standing right beside him where Cauthrien now was.

The wistful tug he felt in his chest didn't hurt this time.

Your brother's talent is a strength to our family, she wrapped her arm around him, it makes our family stronger. Your strengths will cover his weaknesses. And he will cover yours, She had poked his side then, it had made him laugh. Together, my sons will accomplish great things.

I doubt this was what she had in mind.

A cheer went up when Edmund defeated the last of his opponents with a quick disarm. He was humble in his victory, helping them to their feet and encouraging them before his eyes spotted Fergus. He gave a faint smile and waved him over. He took that as a good omen since he hadn't seen his brother smile much since he watched Anora leave for Amaranthine.

"Your Majesty," It was still strange to say, but he knew that such a greeting was required when in the company of so many. Fergus bowed his head and Cauthrien had done the same when they were near enough. He suddenly thought of Cailan's golden armor at Ostagar. Another ghost, he thought sadly of his fallen friend and king. Remembering the stories and jokes they shared before Ostagar, and the hopes of glory they both wanted.

"Fergus," Edmund smiled, waving him closer while a servant passed him a waterskin. Before he drank from it, he dismissed the group of servants and squires who had been hovering around him.

"You should rest," Fergus made sure to say it when he was certain no one could hear his brotherly chiding to the king.

Edmund drank from the waterskin in a long slurp. Droplets of water slipping out, dribbling down his chin with a few splashing down his dirty shirt. "Anora would agree with you," he wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

"Your wife is a wise woman," He thought of his Oriana and her parting smile and their embrace before he left her at Highever. The painful longing lodged inside him like a block of ice.

"She is," he said with another smile, "I wanted to ask you something." His face had gone serious. "I didn't want to make this request publicly."

Fergus felt something tighten in his chest. His mind took him to where he believed his brother was going. His attempt to get him to leave for Amaranthine, a request he had already made, once or twice before Anora and Oren left. "I'm not-"

"Fight with me."

There was a muddled beat of confusion since they spoke over each other, him denying a request he thought was coming. Edmund asking a favor Fergus wasn't expecting.

"Oh," Fergus blinked, his surprise slipping into a smile when he heard his brother's laugh. He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. He met his brother's stare to see the seriousness gleam in his green eyes. He nodded, "I'll fight with you."

Tension seemed to leave Edmund's shoulders at his answer. Relief passed over his face before being replaced with a pleased look and then he nodded. "Good," he clapped Fergus on the shoulder. "I need to watch you."

"Watch me?" Fergus was touched by his brother's concern, but he also couldn't let a moment slip for possible levity. " I'm the older brother."

"Aye, you are," he agreed, "But I've seen you fight." Fergus' nudge made him stop in what he was saying with a chuckle before he finally finished. "You need all the help you can get."

"Just because you're a king doesn't mean I can't put you in a headlock," Fergus threatened.

"That's exactly what it means."

And for a moment, Fergus and Edmund laughed and it was enough for him to think they were back at home where there were no impending threats and were no longer surrounded by death, but that they were all together, happy and safe.

Before it came. A piercing wail that split the sky. It was a spark that spread panic as men and women were clamoring and shouting, and scurrying.

Fergus felt his heart sink in ice at the death knell. The cold pang spread through his blood when he saw it, cutting across the sky, a dot that grew as it moved closer. A terrible sight, but one he knew at once what it was even though he had never seen its malignant like before.

It was the archdemon. The darkspawn had arrived.

Edmund:

"Maker's breath!"

"Andraste watch over us!"

Edmund heard prayers in other languages and to other gods as they gathered around him to look out in horror at the darkspawn horde that had come to their walls. He sent orders as soon as he found messengers in the wake of the archdemon's arrival.

They're gone, he took a calming breath at reminding himself that Anora and Oren had left. They were at Amaranthine and they were safe. It was made as a precaution and proved to be a wise one. Those who remained were the men and women ready to fight and die for Ferelden. We will not go quietly.

As quickly as the archdemon revealed itself in all its malevolent glory, it withdrew from sight. It was almost tempting enough to dismiss it as an apparition. That delusion didn't have time to settle as patrols and frantic riders on exhausted horses were retreating back to the city, all bringing the same terrible news: The darkspawn were near.

To their surprise there was no rushed assault. The darkspawn didn't throw themselves at the walls. It was a slow advance. It proved to be an agonizing sight to see them gathering outside Denerim, their numbers continuing to swell. It made him think it was deliberate. That it was some taunt: Gaze upon our greatness and despair. We are your ruin.

They were a sea of corruption that would soon start crashing upon the walls like waves onto rocks. A large black mark that spread itself wide like a growing scar across the land. Their noises rose like a terrible storm, lashing out with their guttural cries. Each note of theirs was infected with maliciousness that gnawed away at the nerves while trying to burrow inside them, these little black seeds of dread.

The walls were manned. In either direction he chose to look he'd see armored men standing and ready to fight, archers, and ballistas ready to let loose as soon as the darkspawn tried to advance. We're ready. He told himself. They had been waiting to hear further news from Redcliffe before deciding what to do with their forces, but it seemed the darkspawn had made that choice for them.

Edmund had spread some of the Grey Wardens out amongst the forces. Their experience in fighting the darkspawn was crucial and he knew their presence could be a bulwark to his men. The Wardens were revered warriors and mages, who knew how to exploit and kill darkspawn, they could prove invaluable. Their reputation would serve as a unifier with so diverse a group of soldiers. If order broke down, having Wardens able to take charge, commanding instant respect and instilling confidence could prove vital.

Or so he hoped. Edmund trusted his gut and the advisers he surrounded himself with. He tried not to bow to the pressure that was dropped on his shoulders, feeling as if he was holding Ferelden itself. I am. A sobering thought, but one he'd have to draw strength from.

"Catapults and ballistas are ready, Your Majesty."

Edmund didn't turn to the officer who gave the report. He just nodded, keeping his attention to the horde before him. He was never good with numbers, but he knew enough to know that they were greatly outnumbered and that there were thousands upon thousands of darkspawn with more expected to keep coming. His attention drifted to a pair of ogres that were pushing their way through the legions of darkspawn, even clubbing and crushing those who weren't fast enough to get out of their way.

"Commander Fontaine?"

"Your Majesty?" The Grey Warden Commander of Orlais had thankfully been one of the Wardens who had stayed in the city. She had unwavering resolve, like a mountain that wouldn't bow to the fear of the darkspawn no matter how many times they tried to batter it down. She was in her studded leather armor. The fierce and famous Grey Warden griffins proudly emblazoned on the chest and shoulders. Her daggers were sheathed, but she was poised, like a taut bowstring ready to strike in a blink.

"Counsel?" He had heard it all before, but he thought it an important distraction to the darkspawn that were constricting around Denerim like a serpent. And also to serve as a needed reminder to their audience that these terrible creatures can be beaten and killed.

"Beware of the Alphas," She pointed to one of the armored darkspawn warriors.

Edmund had fought one of them at Gwaren. It nearly killed me. He ignored the cold, but phantom tendril that seemed to brush against those healed wounds to follow Fontaine's finger to see the one she was pointing to. It towered over the genlocks and hurlocks who were cowering in its presence.

They're giving their orders too, he realized. They had already shown some of their low cunning by deceiving them into thinking they were attacking Redcliffe with its full might. A tactic that had him send vital soldiers and supplies south to try to help the Arling.

Edmund couldn't see its helmeted face or its eyes, but he still felt a cold chill go down his back at its unflinching gaze. He returned it without blinking. His hold on Starfang tightened. The fear began to ebb away.

The Alpha seemed to lose interest and turned back to growl its directions at its underlings.

"We should target the ogres," Warden Clarel pointed out. The talented mage had been the Warden, entrusted to boosting the city's defenses, counting on her experience and talent to help them anyway her magic or knowledge could. "The ogres will be their battering rams. They can devastate entire lines through force and fear."

"Understood," Edmund looked over his shoulder to see the Wardens' words were being adhered to and were being passed up and down the lines. "Are they in range?"

"Barely, Your Majesty."

Edmund hid his frown. He had hoped he was wrong when he noticed it, but he hadn't been.

"They're aware of that too," Fontaine's lilted voice hardened at acknowledging the darkspawn's cleverness.

"They haven't reached the glyphs either," Clarel added to her commander's observation.

"The archdemon must be taken out, Your Majesty," It was the first time Commander Fontaine turned to him since they arrived on the ramparts. "It's death is essential in ending the Blight." She turned her attention upwards into the skies. "I have commandeered several of the catapults and ballistas. Their aim will be to try to wound it, to bring it down where we can kill it. It is important that you let us deal with it."

He didn't argue. "Very well," He seemed to have made the right choice since the Warden looked pleased at his acquiescing without fight. "We'll leave the archdemon to the Wardens."

"If we can bring it down," Uncle Leonas voiced a doubt that was probably in the minds of most of them.

"The Grey Wardens have stopped four Blights," Fontaine turned to him in a clipped tone. "We are capable of defeating it. We will defeat it." Her confidence came off in waves washing over them to banish that doubt and to restore them to their senses.

It was as if it heard her. The archdemon's roar was chilling cutting through to the bone like an icy sword. It flew above them in almost lazy, taunting circles, planting the seeds of fear in the peoples' hearts by its mere presence. It let out a shrill cry before shooting out a pillar of flames to further terrify those who hadn't been frightened enough by its size and appearance. It flew towards the gathered horde, which greeted its presence like devoted supplicants, working themselves in great frenzies of noise.

And then the darkspawn advanced.

"TO THE GATES!" Edmund bellowed over the din of battle.

Armored footfalls were following him as he led his forces forward.

BOOM! BOOM! The gates creaked and groaned at the tremendous power being thrown into them, but they remained closed.

"Fereldans!" He looked out to see the assortment of soldiers who had followed him, "Dwarves, elves," Seeing the armored dwarven warriors and the Dalish archers who were positioning themselves, "we fight as one!" He commanded them, "Together we will HOLD."

He raised Starfang over his head. "HOLD!"

They cheered, banging their swords against their shields. As if beckoning the darkspawn to come and fall on their weapons.

Edmund could see Fergus at his side. Warden Clarel was with him too as was Ser Cauthrien. Commander Fontaine wanted a Warden mage with him at all times. He didn't press on the insistence, he just accepted it because he trusted the Commander's knowledge and Clarel's skill.

The rest of their leaders had split once the battle unfolded. They were forced to go all over the city to respond to the threat where it rose, to fight and repel the darkspawn. They unleashed wave after wave onto the walls, unrelenting in their poisoned will to breach the city. To burn, to kill, to destroy anyone and everything in their path.

Ferelden cannot fall. He couldn't allow it. I can't be the king who loses the kingdom. I won't.

He tried to ignore the soreness in his side, old wounds that wouldn't fade from either his body or his mind. Starfang was his anchor which kept him grounded in the moment. He dispelled his exertion from all the fighting, which tried to drain his strength. He couldn't guess how long they had been at it. Time was not the same when thrown into such chaos.

"You look sleepy," Edmund had to shout so his brother could hear him even though they were only steps apart.

"I could use a nap," Fergus shouted back, his smile didn't stay. The weariness returned to rest over his features, and his eyes held a certain hue which Edmund was sure was in his own gaze. The frantic determination to live.

The right gate crumpled unto itself in a great ripping sound of metal. Then there was a roar.

"These darkspawn have come to DIE!" Edmund wouldn't let them be cowered.

KILL! KILL! KILL! The cries went up from the soldiers as the first ogre revealed itself.

Edmund had to steady himself at its imposing presence. He had never seen one this close and it was a terrifying sight. Tall and muscular, it barrelled towards them.

The Dalish archers loosed a volley of arrows that sent the ogre stumbling to the ground, shooting up dirt and dust as it fell, groaning and writhing in pain. The genlocks started pouring into the opening, even scuttling over the dying ogre like a black wave. Several were killed by another round of arrows, but more kept coming.

Starfang was ready. And so am I. Edmund sliced through the first genlock before it had a chance to hiss its displeasure. Starfang slid out of the corrupted flesh with its own wet hiss before it went through a second darkspawn. The steel punching through the genlock's face, leaving it dead on its feet. It dangled like a puppet on a string before Edmund yanked the sword out.

He saw Fergus and Cauthrien weaving into the genlocks, hacking and killing each new approaching darkspawn. Templars formed a shield around their mages, slashing and stabbing the darkspawn to keep them back while the mages unleashed fireballs and cracks of lightning that took out dozens of darkspawn.

What sounded like a mixture of a thunder clap and a metal twang rose up over the battle which Edmund saw came from one of the templars. Their strike hit an emissary, who had just emerged from the gate. Wounded, and suddenly deprived of its magic, it fell to a pair of arrows from Dalish archers. Dwarves armed to the teeth were bellowing their dwarvish war cries as they waded into the enemy's forces. Cursing and taunting their hated foes, hacking them down, they were a cohesive force that were rolling through the darkspawn like boulders.

"MAKER!"

Edmund looked up to a sight he wished he wasn't seeing.

Bullying itself forward was an ogre, but this one was different. It's tall, muscular body was covered with a patchwork of steel. It had long, sharp metal claws at the end of their hands which it was using to savagely cut through the first dwarves who tried to fight it.

Arrows hit metal, clanging uselessly against the armor with the ogre treating the projectiles like annoying bugs which could be ignored. It then bent its armored head back which had a protruding horn capped between its horns and charged, barrelling through the soldiers and scattering them like they were toys.

It plucked a dwarf which had been trying to hack at its leg. It roared, loud and angry. The ogre then pulled the dwarf apart in a sickening wet crunch that made his stomach squirm. The ogre had made the gruesome kill with the ease and casualness of snapping a twig, tossing the two bloodied parts with malignant indifference. Its head turned left and right, its black eyes could still be seen through the slints of its armored viser. When it spotted him, it let out a rumbling bellow and charged him.

Fuck. Edmund picked sense over glory rolling out of its way, avoiding its deadly horned helmet and its talon like gauntlets. It's size and speed was terrifying, putting him at a huge disadvantage. Furiated at missing, the armored ogre swept its black gaze before spotting him a second time. When it stepped forward there was a burst of light that had the ogre howling in pain. A dazzling fireball had smashed into its front, smoldering the flesh and searing the metal to its skin.

Warden Clarel de Chanson stepped forward, staff twirling in her hands. Her face etched with concentration while an aura glowed around her to make it appear as if she was encased in a star. "Away with you, creature!"

She jabbed the staff at the armored ogre. A large chunk of earth was scooped from the ground, as if by an invisible hand before being hurled at the towering darkspawn, forming into a fist right when it slammed into the ogre. Now with their enemy unbalanced, Clarel pressed her advantage by sending a flurry of lightning bolts towards it that had it staggering. The ogre looked dazed before collapsing onto its chest writhing for a long second or two, before the body stilled. The smell of burnt corrupted flesh wafted and mixed with all the smoke that was hovering over the battlefield.

"Your Majesty." She said casually as if they weren't in the middle of a battlefield, but in counsel chambers.

"My thanks," Edmund was very grateful that he had her at his side. Very grateful indeed.

The darkspawn who were once pouring through the opening like a river had lessened to a trickle of aimless genlocks wandering through. Some cheered, thinking they had won, but not him.

It was faint at first, but it got louder. The cry was carried by each new person who heard it. The single word that dashed their hopes: "BREACH!"

Kylon:

The Alienage was on fire.

He skidded to a halt when he turned the corner to see the smoldering wreckage. Bodies of both the darkspawn and its defenders were strewn about. If he had to guess at what he was seeing, I'd say it appeared the darkspawn overwhelmed the initial defenses and defenders before they were pushed back. He respectfully and carefully walked around the slaughter, warily eying the darkspawn bodies when he passed. He scrutinized the defenders looking for familiar faces and friends, but to his selfish relief, he recognized none of them.

The elves like the rest of the city had been evacuated so many had left for Amaranthine except those who wished to defend their homes. Proof of their devotion and sacrifice could be seen all around, fighting and dying to keep the darkspawn from destroying their community. The vhenadahl remained unscathed, but when he got closer he saw that it wasn't for a lack of trying. He spotted more darkspawn bodies, all around the old, towering tree. Some had scraped at it, others tried to burn it, but the only lingering tells of that malice was a scorched mark here or there, testament of the tree's refusal to yield to the flames.

It was the whistling that got him to crane his neck which allowed him to see on the rooftops moving atop the buildings were several figures. He drew his sword thinking it was darkspawn, but the slanting sunlight showed it was elves. City and Dalish, he noticed, archers who were moving deeper into the Alienage.

"Shem!" One of them spotted him. It was a woman with reddish curly hair. She scurried down one of the buildings to reach a balcony. "You all they sent?" Her voice was filled with desperation and rage.

"The city's been breached," Kylon shouted, feeling stupid for saying the obvious, but it was true. The darkspawn had entered the city, and were swarming entire sections of it. The Alienage was just another on a growing list of spots inside Denerim that had become battlegrounds.

"Shianni," A sharp voice sounded, cracking like a whip snapping both their attentions to the new presence.

He didn't try to stop himself from smiling at recognizing her voice. "You're alive." He blurted out unable to hide his relief when she leapt down towards him. Taking several smaller jumps like a cat, landing on her feet each time before she hit the ground.

She smirked, "Of course." Kallian Tabris wore her Dark Wolf leather armor proudly, revealing her alias without care. She was more focused on helping her people then protecting her identity. "You appear to be as well."

He resisted the urge to cut the distance between them. "Thank the Maker that you're alive."

"It wasn't no Maker." She brushed off his words, but there was a grateful gleam in her eyes before she looked away from him, "Unless that's what you wish to call my daggers."

Kylon laughed. His mood improved at seeing her in front of him, alive and mostly unscathed.

"Kallian," Shianni's voice was a rope that pulled their attention away from each other and back to where she was standing above them. A look of disbelief flickered over her face at the exchange between them, but he wasn't able to gage if she watched them with approval or disapproval. "The darkspawn are regrouping!"

"Then let's go meet them," Kylon had his sword out.

"You need to go Shianni," Kallian told her, "Go find help, We'll hold them off as long as we can."

"Go?" Shianna gaped. "Don't be foolish, Cousin! I can fight," Her trembling grip on her bow betrayed her insistence, "And besides who will come and help us?"

"The King," Kylon surprised himself by not just how quickly the words came out, but the sincerity behind them.

"You heard the Sergeant," Kallian dismissed Shianni while never giving her opinion on his suggestion.

"Be careful, Cousin," Shianna called after them, "Watch after her, Shem!"

I always do.

Chaos.

It swarmed all around him and threatened to overwhelm him, but by some miracle he kept his ground despite the ache in his muscles and the tightness in his limbs. The constant fighting was taking its toll, when one defender fell, three darkspawn seemed to push their way through the gap. They were giving ground and losing men at a disheartening rate.

He ducked a nasty curved darkspawn sword that had tried to saw through his shoulder and slipped his sword upwards into the genlock's throat, killing it instantly. Black bile escaped from its dark lips, leaning limply on his sword. It fell to the ground when he pulled his weapon out. He stabbed it again to make sure, but the body offered no resistance. The sword cut through flesh and the genlock didn't stir. Dead and dead.

"Pull back!" A voice rang out, amplifying over the noise of the fighting and dying. "Pull back!"

"RUN!"

"RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

"RUN!"

It was clumsy and desperate. Their forces tripping and tumbling into each other trying to retreat. It quickly turned violent with defenders trampling over one another desperately trying to get to safety. The call of retreat only seemed to embolden the darkspawn who surged forward with bloodthirsty glee, hacking, and clawing and biting through any who tried to stop them.

He didn't join them. He would fight and die for Denerim. He had made that oath long before darkspawn had come. He swore a vow to serve and protect this city and her people. I can't retreat. I can only fight.

Kylon felt like he was a pebble going against the raging rapids of a river as he held his ground while his allies all around him were running to avoid the charging darkspawn. He severed the head of the nearest hurlock in a swift strike when its attention had been on another. He killed a pair of genlocks who were gnawing on a human leg like wild dogs. He nearly purged his stomach at the sight and smell. He pushed the bile down and willed his tired feet forward.

Another hurlock had let out a vicious growl after hacking a soldier's arm off, gripping the wiggling human, who was bleeding and screaming in its muscled hands. Kylon thrust his dagger into the creature's eye, discarding the dagger when the hurlock fell backwards. The soldier he saved retreated frantically, without a word or look in his direction.

He stepped past a bloody ruin of a dwarf who was missing a leg and an arm. His pale face was permanently etched to capture his absolute horror before he had been killed. Up ahead, Kylon spotted the small wall of defenders who hadn't fled, tasked to protect the others' escape. They were a diverse batch of templars and humans and elves who were quickly becoming an island in a sea of darkspawn, many of whom when passed ignored them and rushed forward more eager to hunt down the fleeing defenders then try to fight the ones who weren't.

When one of the elfs turned after decapitating a genlock with a scissor cut of twin blades, he saw that it was her. Another rush of relief filled him that seemed foolish to have in the middle of this battlefield, but he didn't fight it. They had gotten separated in the mess, and it was a comfort to see her again despite the circumstances they found themselves in.

She smirked at his approach while grabbing a vial from her belt. She uncorked it and tossed it over her and the others head. "I knew you'd be foolish enough to be here."

Kylon's witty response was drowned out in a fiery explosion that killed at least a dozen darkspawn meters ahead of them. He could see the orange sparks and the guttering smoke from where her fire bomb had struck. He was at her side in another few steps and the two took down a hurlock without missing a beat. Her dagger hampered its legs with a cut across its thigh and Kylon's sword carved it up from its abdomen to its shoulder. Another quick thrust from her other dagger into its chest had it dead before it hit the ground.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the distant vhenadahl still standing tall and proud. He drew a strange comfort at its unwavering presence and felt an odd amount of sense at it bearing witness to their last stand. Its branches swayed in the wind, leaves fluttering like fingers giving them a final acknowledging wave for their sacrifice in protecting it.

The tree of the People, that's what Slim called it. Finding himself fighting side by side with Kallian, and other elves and humans and dwarves, Kylon found it a fitting end.

"I got only one more," Kallian frowned after another fire bomb exploded shooting flames and burning chunks of darkspawn, but it didn't matter if it had killed a couple or a dozen or more. The darkspawn still came, more and more were passing their little island of defenders with more and more turning to fight them instead of trying to catch the fleeing survivors.

The dwarf on his right took an axe that could've crushed Kylon's side. The dwarf crumpled in a garbled cry, blood stained hands trying to keep in his innards which were slipping around his fingers like pale serpents. He groaned and twitched as his life bled out of him in gushing red torrents.

"Together?"

He turned to see Kallian was holding the fire bomb in one hand, gesturing for him to grab it with her. He understood and despite what it meant, he was strangely calm when he put his hand over hers. He didn't seem to mind if this was how he had to die or who he would be dying with.

We helped Denerim together. We fought together. We'll die together.

Her thumb brushed over his fingers in a gentle caress, "Robert." her voice was as tender as a lover's touch.

"Kallian," He braced himself for the soft pop that would signal she uncorked the fire bomb . The time around them seemed to still, watching with almost detached interest darkspawn nearing them. Their black eyes glittering with malignant triumph, weapons raised and fangs bared unsuspecting of the fiery embrace that was to take them all...

His breath misted before him. For a heartbeat, he thought it was death, his last gasp of air before he perished, but another breath followed. It was a blue haze. He could see Kallian's confusion from above the fire bomb they were holding. Her green eyes wide and her mouth twisting, but before either could speak, it appeared.

A chill twisted through them, fingers numb from the cold, he hissed at its suddenness and its discomfort. Before gaping at seeing all around him, ice was spreading, engulfing every darkspawn it touched. Turning each of them into glittering crystal statues, catching them in final poses. They gurgled and clacked, swinging swords haplessly at the frost that devoured them, smothering them in ice, stilling their panic and desperation instantly.

"PUSH THEM BACK!"

A voice that hit him like lightning, causing them both to jolt out of their shock to see soldiers were charging the now frozen darkspawn. They were cheering and shouting, but more importantly smashing the darkspawn. Clunks of ice and darkspawn scattered all around them. The field of frozen darkspawn were powerless to stop them. The darkspawn eyes were two black pricks encased in the ice that could see their approach, but their final seconds were mute struggles before they were broken by swords and shields, axes and hammers.

"Push!" The voice was even louder this time and Kylon's eyes found its source amidst the charging soldiers of humans and dwarves and elves was King Edmund. His beautiful sword slicing through the ice with deadly precision.

"King Edmund," Kylon released his grip on the fire bomb.

"Captain Kylon," The King looked pleased to see him. "I was told you needed help."

Behind the king were nearly a dozen mages, Dalish and Circle mages. Their staff tips glowing blue, wafting frozen mist and sending the ice tendrils towards the darkspawn, weaving and curving to capture those that were trying to escape. The cold sprouted from the ground too, gripping the darkspawn by their feet in its icy grip, before spreading upwards to encase them. Others froze instantly, captured in a cone of cold or unable to evade the wave of ice that descended upon the darkspawn, none of whom were trying to fight, all of them were trying to flee.

"We were," He found himself smiling reminded of the last order to Shianni before they waded into the battle.

"You look surprised," Edmund said with a look that could've passed for a smile. "Your friend was very insistent."

"I liked her," Another voice joined them, and Kylon recognized him to be Fergus Cousland. He had met him the day he turned Howe over to the brothers. "Reminded me of what Old Nan used to say to us when she caught us in mischief."

All around them, frozen darkspawn were being crushed and destroyed. The cracking of ice barely being heard over the men's rowdy cheers, as they came rushing back to regain the ground they had given up only minutes ago and killing the same forces they were once running from.

The King chuckled, but the mirth lines receded all too quickly.

A Dalish mage approached them, an older woman with long white hair that fell just above her shoulders. An intricate braid wrapped around her head with two threads dropping just over her face. Her armor was a deep green with black fur trim. She was flanked by two other mages, both of them were younger women. "Ma serannas, Your Majesty."

"Keeper Marethari," He returned the respectful dip. He looked over at her two companions and gave them the same respectful gesture before greeting them by name, "Keeper Lanaya, Keeper Ilshae-"

A deafening BOOM came in the distant, deeper in the city.

The King took this explosion with barely a blink. "I'm afraid we must depart." His words were an order to his men and a farewell to the Dalish keepers before him.

It was cruel, Kylon had winced when he heard the boom. The noise felt like the tip of a dagger puncturing the little hope they were enjoying in the Alienage. They were relishing a small victory, only for the darkspawn to cruelly remind them of just how perilous their situation was.

Let this be the turning of the tide, he prayed, and not the beginning of a storm that means to drown us.

A/N:

I tried not to be too repetitive in the fighting scenes, but I'm not really good at any of this stuff so sorry I couldn't deliver. I wanted to make the perspectives when it got down to the fighting, sporadic and chaotic filled with frenetic energy.

We're three chapters away including the epilogue before this story is finally finished. Thanks to all those who've persevered and stuck with this story. If all goes to plan I hope to have this story marked complete before June arrives.

To those few still reading and reviewing this story, you have my appreciation. It really means a lot to read your encouraging words especially as we get closer to the end.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire