The daggers slipped from her hands and fell to the ground, clangs hardly heard over the screams and roars and cries. Arleea bent to pick up her weapons but found herself sinking to her knees, gasping and coughing, hands splayed on the ground next to her daggers. She looked up and saw nothing but darkspawn and the flames devouring Denerim. She wiped her face with the back of her gloved hand, the blood shimmering by the light of the flames — she did not even know whose blood it was anymore, and just how much had gotten to her face. With great effort, she picked up her daggers and pushed herself up on her feet, evading a charging genlock and turning; she aimed a kick at the back of its knees and stabbed it through one of its ears, the end of the blade sticking out through the other ear, and she heard the slicing and crushing of tissue from within the genlock's head. She dislodged the weapon from it, watched the genlock fall lifeless at her feet and looked around to locate her companions amidst the sea of death and evil.

They were nowhere to be found. A few of the elven allies were around her and they too were calling out for their comrades spread out across the battle. Arleea turned left and right and front and back, seeking out any sign of her companions, her mabari hound, and Alistair — oh, Alistair —

"Where are they?" she called desperately to the Dalish elves with her. "Have you seen them? Shale? Wynne? Alistair? My hound? Have you seen them?"

"N-No," one of them answered. There was a yelp from behind the group — an alpha hurlock raced towards them and butted a number of them to the ground. There was a blood-curdling scream; the hurlock swung its ax and managed to chop off one of the elves' thighs, and he cried, writhing hopelessly on the ground.

"Aargh! M-My leg — MY LEG!"

"No!" Arleea pushed her way towards the hurlock and attacked — she ducked and evaded a blow, piercing her daggers on the alpha hurlock's side. She elbowed its head and crushed it fiercely with her boot several times. The other elves hurled their bleeding kin away from the battle while a few remained to assist Arleea and kill off more genlocks.

Arleea was in a state of panic now. They were being flooded with darkspawn and she could not see her friends. She fought and fought, trying to push the morbid thoughts running in her head.

If something happened to them — if she cannot find them —

They're all right, Arleea told herself. They're all right. They have to be all right.

She found herself stopping, and watched as her Dalish comrades were slaughtered before her. She continued to fight and there were only a few of them left. Arleea thought she caught a glimpse of Wynne's magic somewhere — and was that Alistair's shield? Was the bark nearby coming from Pluto? Is the big figure looming behind them Shale, or is that another ogre? Arleea was driven by a mad desire to know.

She must know.

She drew in a breath and readied herself.

"ALISTAIR!" Arleea screeched at the top of her voice. Tears were already streaming from her eyes. "Wynne — Shale — I'm here! I'm here!"

One of the figures turned.

"Arleea!"

There he was. Yelling, fighting his way towards her. Behind him were Shale, Wynne, and Pluto, all of them attacking stragglers, and the other half of their elven allies fighting alongside them. Arleea did not know or even care how she got separated from them; all that mattered was they were still alive and were all fighting through the horde to make it to her. Arleea rallied her remaining companions and they began to slash and stab darkspawn with renewed hope and energy and with wild eyes, her only goal in mind was to reunite with her friends. She had to get there, and she will get there and nothing was going to stop her —

"Alistair!" she called again. She ducked, stabbed, slashed, and clawed until she finally threw the last darkspawn in the way, blood flying in the air, and flung her arms around Alistair who returned her embrace, trapping her in despite the blood, sweat, and tears.

"I thought I lost you," she sobbed. "Alistair, I thought I lost you —"

"I'm here now," he whispered. "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

Arleea repeatedly muttered his name and he tried to soothe her with endless whispers saying that he loved her, and loved her, and loved her ever so truly. Both of them were shaking and when they broke apart, they held each other's faces for a few more seconds before resuming the fight, now standing with the rest of their brothers and sisters at arms.

Only they could end this chaos, and they have to end it now.