They are coming.

The sounds are still faint, but she knows that what she hears are soldiers equipped in full battle armor marching towards them, what must be hundreds of them, inexorably drawing closer with every ringing step. From the nervous expressions of those around her she knows she is not the only one that realizes what is coming. There are pitiful few of them here, defending this place. They had hastily regrouped and most did not have time to retrieve their armor, having to make do instead with what they could find at hand. Many of the mages present also had never been allowed to unleash their arcane talents to their full extent; they have never known the feeling of being unfettered in their magic. As she looks around at the companions that surround her she can see by their expressions that they too are not unaware of what this portends. She glances back quickly to Anders, but he is too far away from the group to gauge his expression, nor does she have the strength within herself to attempt it.

Anders sees her as she glances back at him. He wants so badly to be next to her, to have her wrap her arms around him and tell him that she still loves him, that she will forgive him. The anguish of it overwhelms him for a moment. He almost feels as if he had died back there in the courtyard, that his head had been struck from his body and that all feeling had been struck with it, leaving him with an emptiness, a black abyss that stares back at him through his own hollow eyes. The pain of it is intense, knocking the breath out of him like a physical blow, and for a moment he almost collapses to his knees before he manages to pull the protective mantle of Justice back around his damaged soul.

They are coming.

She can hear the sounds of fighting outside, the clash of metal on metal, the shouts of the defenders trying desperately to hold the line, the screams as they are cut down.

They are here.

The archers behind her take aim and a torrent of arrows fly past above her, striking down some of the advancing soldiers, but more step up to take their place. Their pace is steady, unyielding. She does not think she will live to see the sunrise.

He watches as the templars close in on her group, frantically trying to see her through the chaos of the fighting. Above all things, he has to keep her safe. He desperately prepares a spell, weaving it through his mind and body, casting the power of it out through his fingertips. He sees the area to the right of Hawke explode into flame as she neatly jumps back to avoid the residual impact. The screams of his victims are abruptly cut off as the overpowering odor of burning flesh adds itself to the already pungent miasma of the battleground.

The fighting is all around her now, the noise is deafening in the close quarters, the screams of the attackers and the agonized cries of the wounded making her ears ring and her head pound. The stone floor is slippery with blood beneath her booted feet, the straw that they had hastily strewn before the battle quickly reaching the limit of what it would absorb. A form lunges at her from the chaos, and she instinctively brings her sword up and across the body, ripping open a red line that cuts through skin and muscle. The blood sprays into her face as she tries to protect her eyes and for a second she is helpless and blinded. She hears another behind her and pivoting around half-swords her weapon, slamming the pommel into the space that she hopes her enemies face is occupying. She is rewarded by a sickly crunch as the metal connects with flesh and then bone. He looks at her in horror, the hit transforming his mouth into a bloody jumble of tissue and teeth, as he falls to his knees. Reaching for the grip she turns her sword back upright and thrusts downward sliding the point through his shoulder and out through the spine. More blood sprays onto her already soaked armor making the grip of her sword slippery with sweat and blood. She cannot keep this up, every time she swings her sword, every new cut she receives, it robs her of more strength. The others around her still standing are as exhausted. The templar numbers are decreasing, but not fast enough. They cannot stand against the onslaught much longer. She risks a glance back to the corner where she knows Anders is standing, far enough back from the melee so he can cast uninterrupted in safety, but still able to cause heavy damage in the battle. She knows deep inside that she still loves him as their gazes meet for the merest fraction of a second. Time slows as blue green eyes lock onto brown as she tries to convey this to him in their last moments.

He feels Justice surging to the forefront as he catches a glance of her. She is bleeding freely from more cuts than he can count, her normally pale skin a frightening two shades lighter than it should be. She finds his gaze for just a moment before she stumbles forward from an attack and lands hard on her sword hand, he can hear the crack of bone from here as she throws back her head and screams. He matches her cry with one of cold terror and Justice claws his way up from the black emptiness to join the battle. The blue glow in his eyes quickly spreads to the rest of his body enveloping him in a cold deadly aura of retribution. The light is blinding now in its need to escape and the agony as it tries to is excruciating. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. The twisted spell his tortured mind creates pushes away from him and explodes into the battle, the resulting blinding flash of light and shock wave of sound making everything go fuzzy and white. The recoil of the rebounding spell slams his body into the far wall and he slowly slides down onto the floor. Everything is still and deathly quiet. Hawke and her companions are the first to recover and they quickly take advantage of the vulnerability of their remaining enemies dispatching them to the fade with cold efficiency.

She looks to where Anders should be and does not see him. Her eyes cast frantically around the chamber until she spots him against the wall where he has fallen. "Oh maker, please let him still be alive" she pleads as she ignores her injuries and manages a half limping run over to his prone form. He is as still as death and her mind screams at her that he is already gone. She half falls onto the ground beside him as she reaches his side and gathers him up in her arms. "You are not going to break my heart for a second time, you bastard" she screams at him as the tears mix with the blood that is plastered on her face. The other gather around, not knowing what to say to her in her grief, their downcast faces turned away as she rocks him in her arms as one would a sleeping child. "You are not allowed to leave me" she screams at him again, but still he will not answer her. With her head resting on his chest she doesn't see the blue glow as it slowly starts to engulf his body, but she hears the faint words as a voice, maker help her, his familiar voice whispers weakly into the silence "I promise I'll never break your heart again"