"Arishokost! Qun-anaam ebra-toh!" Fenris interjected, drawing both Hawke and the Arishok's gaze. "You have granted this woman basalit-an. By this admission, she now has the right to challenge you."
"If you truly knew the Qun, elf, you would not suggest I battle a female."
"But she is no female," Fenris countered, and Hawke looked at him. He was unfazed. "She is a respected outsider, by your own words."
Huffing quietly, the Arishok looked at her, "What say you, Hawke? Do you agree to a duel?"
Inside she swore, but on her lips, Hawke said, "And if I win, what then?"
"I will be dead and released from my duty. The rest of the qunari will be free to return to Par Vollen."
"And if you win?"
"You will be dead," the Arishok replied.
"Touché," she said under her breath. Keeping his gaze, Hawke responded before she could let herself think. She drew her blades, and said, "Alright. Let's dance."
"Meravas," the Arishok intoned, stalking towards her. "So shall it be!"
Hawke adjusted the dagger in her hand as she backpedalled from the steps. The nobles had cleared from the viscount's throne room, pressed to observe from the wings.
"Bring Fenris, she thought," Hawke muttered to herself. Her blood was singing with fright. "He knows their language, maybe he can help! Idiot."
"If anyone can do this, Hawke," Varric shouted, as they cringed back against the wall. Karashok flanked them, standing resolute as the Arishok huffed and cracked his shoulders.
"And if I can't, we're all fucked," she said under her breath. Pulse in her ears, Hawke swayed on the balls of her feet and rolled sideways as the Arishok's battleaxe swept by. It clinked on the stone, and his sword followed her instead. When she darted around one of the pillars that upheld the room, he growled and followed.
She was a young woman again, darting amidst the templar blades that bore down on her sister. Her father lay choking on his own blood, Bethany on her knees beside him and cowering to the ground. There was the chink of steel again, and Hawke darted to slash the underside of the Arishok's arm, drawing a rivulet of blood.
A thousand tiny cuts.
Unswayed, the qunari general turned on her, blades swishing the air as Hawke evaded again, bounding backward on agile toes. In a moment, a flask shattered in his face, and he devolved into a fit of coughing. She was there in an instant, riveting her knee into his kidneys. He scarce grunted as she regained her balance, her blade catching under a strap and cutting his pauldron free.
The Arishok snarled, his fist snapping the blunt pommel across Hawke's face and drawing blood. Reeling back, she skidded and flipped out of the way as he coughed again, the putrid gas from her flask dissipating. Hawke wiped the blood from her eyes, throwing herself out of the way as he charged, his axe glancing off another pillar.
"Basra," he hissed, muscles tensing as he swung again, the blades narrowly deflected by Hawke in a series of cuts. It redirected his energy, weakening her arms, but she got another cut across the washboard of his abdomen. Dropping to roll out of the way, she stabbed into his thigh, scarce slowing him.
As Hawke scrambled to her feet, the Arishok clipped her from behind, cross-checking her with the handle of his axe. She slipped on her knees, and there were gasps from the nobles, but she closed her eyes and rolled as he swung to finish her. Soon enough, she swirled on her knees to slash down the backs of his legs, curved blade slicing off parts of his armour.
Hawke breathed hard through her nose as she was on her feet again, wiping the sweat and blood from her eyes as they circled. Their weapons clanged, and she ducked under his arm, stabbing his side only to receive a wound of her own, and she stumbled away to fumble with the elfroot potion on her hip. The Arishok's eyes followed as he drank a concoction of his own.
Holding it in her mouth, Hawke threw the flask at him, and he knocked it away as she snagged another. The second shattered on the ground and erupted into flames, disorientating the warrior only briefly, but she used it. Holding her breath in the flames, her short blades lanced down his arms, and the qunari raged. His axe battered her, and she floundered back, gulping the curative as her vision blurred.
In her mind, Bethany was screaming as the templar bore down, and Hawke stumbled from the smite that left them both weakened. She could feel the spike of pain as the sword pierced her, and she cried out now as she did then. Kicking for her life, a more desperate scream echoed off the stone as she hacked at the Arishok's arm.
"Do not even think to intervene," Fenris hissed from where he stood, and Varric held Anders back.
"I can't just let him kill her," he hissed, and the qunari near them turned his cold eyes their way.
"Have faith," Varric tried to say, smiling thinly. "She's gotten out of worse scrapes. Not any that I can think of right now, but."
The Arishok ripped his sword out, and Hawke forced herself up, gupping and choking on the blood as she clutched her chest. It was all she could do to flounder behind one of the pillars as his axe followed through, struggling to stay conscious. She huffed and whipped one of her daggers, burying it in the thick muscle of the Arishok's thigh, and he snarled and tugged it out.
Hawke's blurry eyes passed over her friends and the qunari that looked on, stumbling to pick up her stray sword again, a spatter of blood trailing behind her. There was the clank of his axe on stone again as she narrowly missed her death. She finally fumbled a potion out on bloodied hands, nearly dropping it as she drank it – only to be barrelled over as the Arishok caught her again.
They grappled against the wall, and Hawke spat a bloody spray in his face as he overpowered and pinned her. He grunted as she kneed him in the stomach repeatedly, splitting the gash there wider. She hit him again, floundering to stay close and keep his swords away. Hawke stabbed home, her dagger under one of his ribs as she choked on blood again, twisting with a crack – the Arishok snarled in reply and threw her away.
Hawke skidded as she gained her footing, ducking out of the way as his sword and axe met in the air above her. The Arishok clamoured down, pinning her leg, and she screamed through clenched teeth and hurled herself behind him, the sharp edges of her daggers slicing skin as she moved. With a quick riposte, he caught her left arm, and her dagger dropped as blood spurted, the tendons nearly severed. She panted and dragged away, a strain and fear in her breath.
"Anaan esam Qun," the Arishok evenly said, patient even as he bled and stalked closer. Hawke fled his attack, dodging still. "You are basalit-an. But it will not change what is demanded."
There was blood on Hawke's lips as she rasped, "Nor will it save you."
When the Arishok advanced, Hawke launched herself in a desperate save, burying her daggers to the hilt up into his chest. There was a blank surprise in his eyes as she stabbed again, leaning her weight in, screaming and tearing through his flesh. When she cried out and threw her shoulder into him, the qunari staggered back and collapsed upon the steps.
The weapons in his hands fell loose as the Arishok looked up to her, voice failing, "We will return."
Hawke struggled to breath as she took her dagger in both hands and fell on his body, stabbing him once more in the chest before slitting his throat. The muscular body beneath her went limp, leaving stunned silence and the rasp of her wet breaths. As she stood, the blood rushed to her head, and she wavered – but Anders and Varric were there.
"He might be dead," she whispered on bloody lips, eyes dilated and blank.
The doors burst open as Hawke nearly collapsed again, noticeably shaking as Meredith and Orsino rushed in, weapons at the ready. No face seemed as surprised as Bethany's
"It's over," Hawke said as they gawked, and her sister rushed forward as she collapsed.
Orisno followed as Meredith grimaced, "She's badly injured."
"As are many," Meredith coldly replied, looking between the qunari in the room.
"Your arishok is slain, his bound purpose unravelled," Fenris stated, the nobles in the wings still immobile in shock. "You have no reason to remain. Leave now, or die by the Qun." When Meredith made to protest, he turned to her, "They will leave without hesitation."
"They shall be slain for their treasonous actions," Meredith growled, her sword at the ready.
"Enough have already perished," called a noble from the wings. "Just get rid of them." The sentiment was echoed by more of the traumatized lords and ladies.
Meredith's lips pressed in a hard line, before she ordered, "Escort them from the city." She lingered till the last moved, following them and her templars out of the keep.
On the ground, Hawke shuddered as Orsino's magic pulled bits of her back together.
"Thank the Maker," Bethany whispered, tears in her eyes as she cradled Hawke's head in her lap.
"It's alright, dear sister," Hawke's eyes fluttered as she tried to focus. She touched Bethany's hand, half-delirious. "The templars are gone. I'll protect you."