Hawke's heart was in her throat during the whole boat ride to the Gallows. As usual, the looming alabaster stone turned her stomach, waves of near-crippling anxiety trying to turn her into a nervous wreck. In that moment, Hawke was grateful for Orsino's potion allowing her to keep a degree of composure.
A hand slipped into hers, and she looked down to find that Fenris had entwined their fingers. He gazed at her steadily, giving a nod of encouragement. She nodded back, then returned her scrutiny to the Gallows dock, where she could see the outlines of several figures.
Their boat bumped into the dock and Meredith stepped forward out of the group of armored Templars. "You're early," the Knight-Commander remarked.
"I'm eager to see this done," Hawke replied as she stepped onto the dock, followed by Fenris, Anders, and Varric.
"As am I." Meredith gestured for them to follow her. "This will take place in one of the smaller courtyards, away from most people's eyes. Have your companions hide in the shadows, there are a handful of pillars that will provide cover. My men and I will also wait out of sight until the maleficar reveals himself."
"How do you know for certain Quentin will be here?" Hawke asked, not really expecting an explanation.
"I have a reliable source. You play your part, and I will play mine," was all Meredith would say. A moment later Meredith pushed open a door and a soft breeze wafted over them. The door opened to a small courtyard, just like the Knight-Commander had said, where a couple of Templars were piling various manuscripts and books in a large, unlit brazier. "Here is where all the materials for blood magic and necromancy are being compiled," Meredith continued in a suddenly louder and stronger voice. Hawke understood that as of that moment, the performance was on. "I want you to help ensure that as these are burned, that all of it is destroyed. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Knight-Commander," Hawke replied evenly, using the same carrying volume when she spoke. Behind her, her companions slipped silently to the sides, keeping out of sight behind the pillars.
The two women approached the brazier as the Templars finished putting everything in the pile. "That's all of the materials, Knight-Commander," one of them said crisply. "Is there anything else you require?"
"Fetch some oil, and a torch," Meredith commanded.
"At once, ser," the other Templar said. They both offered a salute and marched off. A moment later, one of them had returned with a bucket of lamp oil in one hand and a torch in the other.
"My assistant can take care of this," the Knight-Commander said dismissively. She turned her icy stare to Hawke. "I leave this in your hands. Alert me once you have finished." Then, she and the other Templar both turned, leaving Hawke alone in the center of the courtyard.
Hawke fought the urge to peer around and find her friends' outlines in the shadowy corners of the courtyard. Their presence, however hidden, was the only thing keeping her from running for the hills. She was devoid of her staff or even a dagger, wearing plain clothes instead of her usual armor, and she was unable to use her magic. She was as defenseless as was possible for her to be.
Hefting a sigh, she picked up the bucket of oil where the Templar had set it and went to pour it over the papers.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, child."
The reedy voice was familiar, and sent a shudder up Hawke's spine despite her emotions being magically dampened. She turned slowly to find a robed figure emerging from the shadows at the far end of the courtyard: Quentin.
He looked much worse for wear than the last time they'd met. His skin was ashen, his robes blood-crusted and filthy. Half of his face was slack and drooling, one of his eyes clouded over, and the side of his head had a horrifying dent that oozed pus and was enflamed to a bright red around the wound. Hawke was vividly reminded of finally finding her mother, stitched onto some monstrous patchwork body, and the fight that had ended with her smashing in the maleficar's skull before he fled.
His good eye stared her down with unbridled hatred and his jaw worked, fighting against his mostly unresponsive lips. "You don't know what you're doing."
"I'm preventing anybody else suffering as I have," Hawke called back evenly. Quentin stepped closer, and she resisted the urge to step back.
"I see you can no longer suffer at all," he rasped out, his eye upon her Tranquility brand. "When people like me walk free, and people like you are reduced to emotionless shells, what justice is there in the world?"
Hawke felt a flush of anger rise up. It took all her self-control to keep a steady tone. "You know nothing of justice," she replied, "but you will learn."
As if waiting for a cue, at that moment the gates around the edges of the room all slammed shut, sending a deafening rattling echoing off the stone walls. As the sound faded, Meredith stepped forward out of the shadows, flanked by half a dozen Templars on both sides. "It was incredibly foolish of you to come into my Gallows, maleficar," the Knight-Commander drawled. "I will give you only one chance to surrender. I suggest you make use of it."
In response, Quentin whipped a dagger out of his belt and sliced it across his palm. Bright red blood sprayed forth, shining in the dying sunlight, as shades sprouted out of the earth. They gave unearthly screams and charged the Templars, who unsheathed their swords and leapt forward into the fray.
A Templar pushed Hawke back, away from the danger, and she felt someone grab the back of her robes and pull her backwards. Fenris rushed past her, his giant sword in his hands, as Anders and Varric stepped in front of her.
"Stay back!" Varric shouted. "We'll handle this."
Anders shot off a volley of energy pulses, striking the demons, but new ones rose as fast as the old ones were struck down. Varric peppered them with his bolts; the demons screeched as arrows would suddenly appear buried in their flesh, until they too would sink to the ground, disintegrating as they perished.
The Templars pressed forward, cornering Quentin. Instead of looking worried, he began laughing. Low at first, his hysterical giggles rose in pitch and echoed over the whole courtyard. He raised his dagger high, and with a thrust sank it deep in his gut.
His laughter cut off abruptly as blood pooled at his feet. It began to glow, bubbling and rising until it was a huge form hulking above them all. Spines and horns appeared everywhere, and a dozen black beady eyes stared malevolently at them all. The pride demon stepped forward, a low evil chuckle rumbling from its chest.
"Stand firm!" Meredith shouted. She charged forward, sword flashing, as the remaining half dozen Templars and Fenris all did the same. Hawke watched anxiously as the beast roared and swiped at them all. Behind it, Quentin still stood, though the entire front of his robes was stained red with blood.
At that moment, the pride demon let out a bellow. Sparks crackled along its spines, and it sent out a shockwave at its attackers. Electricity arched between the Templars, causing them to stiffen and cry out before collapsing. The lightning reached Fenris last; he stiffened too but remained on his feet by some miracle.
The demon took advantage of the elf's lapse in concentration and grabbed him by the legs. Fenris fell backwards as his feet were swept from beneath him and his head hit the flagstones with a dull thud. The demon raised him high in the air by his legs, Fenris' arms dangling limply as his sword clattered to the ground.
Terror seized Hawke's heart in a vice, and for a moment she couldn't draw breath. For one horrible moment she was back in Ferelden, watching the darkspawn ogre dangle Bethany the same way, before it had slammed her to the ground and snuffed out her young life. Then she was back in the present, and the demon was lowering Fenris as Quentin approached him.
Fenris stared dazedly at the maleficar, half conscious and bleeding. Hawke could see his snowy hair was staining red on one side.
"I remember you," Quentin said softly. He grabbed Fenris' face and turned it so he could see it better. "Yes, the elf with the strange markings on his skin. If memory serves me, you interfered last time as well. I have you to thank that I was unsuccessful in resurrecting my love." The maleficar's face twisted in fury. "I shall have my revenge of you too."
Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke saw Meredith rising unsteadily to her feet. As Quentin extended a hand towards Fenris' exposed neck, flickering with deadly flames between his fingers, Meredith lifted her sword and quietly approached the blood mage from his blind spot.
In that moment, Hawke knew that if she did nothing, Fenris was going to die. Meredith certainly wasn't going to try and safe Fenris.
"Fenris, no!" Hawke pushed Anders and Varric aside, arm outstretched desperately towards the men. Quentin's fingers had just brushed the lyrium-lined skin of Fenris' throat when blindingly bright lightning, stronger than anything she'd ever summoned before, leapt along her arm and hand, then arched across the room with a deafening CRACK.