AN: Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. I'm working on the final chapter, and still quibbling over little details about the end. This chapter is the first part in a three-part finale. There will also be an epilogue. Thanks to everyone still reading this for sticking with me.
9:38 Dragon, Spring Part I of III
Service had ended only ten minutes ago, yet no one was walking away from the chantry. Instead, groups had gathered outside, chattering in hushed whispers. It was bad enough that politics dominated every social gathering, but now it had spread its way into every conversation. Kirkwall's doomed chantry, the Templars who overstepped their authority, the apostate mage who had been responsible for the deed, the Champion of Kirkwall who had aided him, and the Chantry's lack of response. If Samantha, as someone who rarely engaged in those conversations, hadn't known better, she would have thought tensions were heightening, and that some kind of conflict was inevitable. It felt like a Blight of a different color.
Lady Fortney elegantly extended her parasol, lifting it over her head. "The Templars are doing all they can, and I don't think it's wise to hamper their efforts by getting ourselves involved."
"Too many fingers on the same quill make for messy letters," Lord Fortney agreed.
Lord Garrity smiled wryly. "Especially when the Orlesians are doing the writing..."
Almost everyone chuckled loftily.
"Indeed!" Lady Luxley tittered, shrugging her bright green shawl up and over her shoulders. It was a shiny garment, and a poor choice to drape over the sleeves of her satin dress. "The wheels of bureaucracy are the slowest to turn, especially in such times. We managed, and so can they."
Samantha leaned over to Sophine, who looked bored. "How much longer must we stand here?"
Sophine gave her an almost-imperceptible shrug, sneaking a glance across the square to Goran, who looked to be in pained conversation with the Kendalls. Samantha had been rather surprised when the Fortneys had stopped her for a chat, but then again, she and Sophine were fairly important as well. They were the next Marchioness and Princess of Starkhaven. As good as Vaels and near royalty.
"The Chantry will send aid to Kirkwall like they did here," Lord Fortney said. "Kirkwall could do with a little patience."
"Quite right." Every time Lady Fortney blinked, her eyelashes caught her veil, a thin black netting that wrapped around her face like a mask and connected to her high-crowned hat. "Maybe now they will see that giving their money away to foreign countries does them no good."
Samantha remembered that Flora's father had talked the now-deceased Viscount of Kirkwall into sending monetary support. It was just like Starkhaven nobility to keep harping on that.
"And they shouldn't expect reciprocation. King Alistair is a generous sort, but he's dealing with his own problems," Lord Garrity informed everyone; he was always up to speed on the latest news. "The Bannorn would not take it kindly if he sent their tax funds to Kirkwall."
The ladies nodded judgmentally while the men seemed quite unrepentant.
"The simple fact is that Kirkwall's problems are Kirkwall's to solve," Lord Fortney stated, and everyone in the group everyone hummed in agreement.
Samantha wished she could get away, to another group would be a good start. Arianna looked to be having a delightful conversation with Lady Garrity, who seemed to turn beet-red after everything the Antivan girl said. There was a small group near to the Chantry steps: Vincent Tyler and Benjamin Garrity together with Lord Robaire Fortney and Miss Tyne Kendall.
The pair had courted throughout their youth and now they were both in their early twenties, Samantha had heard an engagement was imminent. She had wondered if their feelings for each other were true, and not just habitual from being forced together over the years, but watching them, she saw Tyne sneak a smile Robaire's way, and he winked back. It was a small gesture, but one filled with secrets. Fun and perhaps naughty secrets. Watching them made Samantha's heart ache; she had had that once upon a time.
"They should probably just tear Kirkwall down and start over," Sophine said ruefully, interrupting Samantha's thoughts. "Shouldn't be hard. I hear the city is in shambles and the coffers are empty."
The lords and ladies laughed nervously. Tear down a city? Lady Fortney reached over to Sophine's hand. "Ansburg must be such an amusing place. Do tell us about it."
Sophine seemed surprised. "Oh! My apologies. In Ansburg, when a building gets too old, we tear it down. I remember one of the strangest things I ever saw was that nobility live in such old buildings."
The nobles tried to hide their offense.
"The buildings may be old," Lord Fortney said, sounding quite dignified. "But they were built by the finest architects in the land. Our estate alone has withstood a Blight, two Circle rebellions, and countless wars with the Qunari. Tearing down our home because it's old would be an insult to all that it's withstood."
"I meant no offense, my lord," Sophine smiled graciously, recovering well. "I like the old structures. I wish to know more about them. It's like walking through a history book."
Lady Fortney smiled the brightest. "I would be honored to help you begin your education."
"The honor would be mine," Sophine replied genially.
This seemed to set everyone at ease, except Lady Luxley who looked a little steamed that Lady Fortney had beaten her to the invitation. She tugged on her bright green shawl, which had fallen off her shoulders again.
Sophine offered a small curtsey. "If you'll excuse us, Lady Samantha and I are going to light a candle for those poor souls in Kirkwall."
"Of course!" Lady Fortney gushed and Lord Fortney nodded appreciatively.
As Samantha and Sophine walked away, Samantha heard Lady Luxley say, "Such a sweet girl!"
Samantha clutched Sophine's arm gratefully. She leaned over to whisper, "You are a genius." But being back inside the dark chantry felt like someone had pulled a cloak over her eyes. It all felt so different in there, so warm and inviting… like nothing bad could happen, which was clearly a lie.
Once they reached the altar of Andraste, Sophine knelt down. She lit one candle, then another. As Samantha waited, she glanced back at the pews. There were still several parishioners, and Samantha's gaze caught upon a little girl. She was fidgeting. She had tiny hands wrapped in white silk gloves with raised buttons and lace trim. Her mother, who was standing beside her, kept reaching down and laying her hand on the child's shoulder, telling her to be still. As Samantha watched, she imagined this little girl's entire life. She could see it clearly, because it was her own.
She would attend the super-social brunches, would know which fork to use, the latest fashions from the best places, and her head would be filled with all those things that society wanted her to believe. If she was lucky, she would never have cause to question those things. Samantha was thinking of how Starkhaven was going to endure yet another hostile conflict when she was startled out of her reverie by the bells. They weren't the Chantry's bells, nor the Harvest Bells. They were too far away to be the Palace bells – no, there was only one set of bells that rung like that; it was the bells at the gates of Starkhaven. High pitched and urgent, each ring sounded in quick succession.
The bells at the gates were rarely rung; only when there was an unexpected approaching group – like an army. The bells signified that everyone in Starkhaven should be prepared – prepared for what was another question.
Aside from the little girl and her mother, there were only a few others in the chantry on that day; two sisters walking the length of the hallway, a chanter offering versus from the Chant of Light, an old weathered man wearing a straw hat who had been seated solemnly near the back, and a young noblewoman with her maid. All had been minding their business, but with the sound of the bells, individual business came to a halt. Samantha turned her head to the large front doors, and saw that everyone else had done the same. Some looked frightened.
Sophine stood up. "What's going on?"
"Those are the bells at the gates." Samantha watched the two sisters pause in the hallway whispering to one another.
"Oh..." Sophine's expression changed to worry; she came from a military town, and so Samantha felt she would understand.
The clacking of hard shoes upon stone garnered the attention of everyone, as the two sisters disappeared down the hallway. The parishioners took that as a cue of some kind, and rushed for the doors, exiting in haste – all but the noblewoman, who had fainted dead away. Her maid was crouched by her side, fanning her feverishly.
Sophine got to them before Samantha could. She said to the maid, "Run to your estate and get a guard. Tell them they need to come get this girl and bring her home."
"Y-yes, messere!" The maid remembered her courtesies, even standing up to elaborately curtsey before Samantha grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her away, calling for her to hurry.
"Do you know her?" Sophine asked Samantha.
Samantha looked down at the skinny girl. "That's Gwendolyn Fortney. She's always been a little sickly."
Sophine lifted her palms to her ears, trying to dampen the increasingly loud bells. "How long do we have?"
Samantha paused, thinking. "I am not sure. I bet Goran will send emissaries to the gates to find out what's going on. If there's fighting, we'll have plenty of notice. And we're in the Chantry. No one would—" But her breath caught in her throat before she finished that sentence.
The Ansburg girl paled. "You are thinking of Kirkwall...?"
With increasing anxiety, Samantha opened her mouth to respond but the bells abruptly stopped. The common silence that accompanied the chantry was replaced by a great commotion beyond the doors, which were now closed – Samantha hadn't heard them close over the bells! She instinctively dropped to the floor, hunkering down by Sophine and Gwendolyn, who was starting to come around.
"Oh..." the girl moaned softly, trying to sit up.
Sophine laid her hands on Gwendolyn's shoulders, helping her up. "Careful. You've fainted."
"I have...?" Gwendolyn's voice trailed away, still a little blurry eyed.
Samantha's mind flashed briefly to Flora. It had been months since they'd corresponded, though lately Samantha had felt she didn't have much to say to her friend. Flora had thrown herself into her archery, into training for mercenary work to help Sebastian in whatever way he desired. And in her last letter, Flora had said they she was coming back. Had that day come?
She chantry doors rattled, their hinges twitching under the weight. Samantha heard some muffled yelling on the other side.
"What's that noise?" Gwen asked weakly.
"People, I think," Samantha said, still staring at the recently sealed entrance. "Probably trying to see who's come to the gate."
Gwendolyn lifted a limp hand to her forehead. "All those people! How will I ever get home? Oh!" Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, promptly fainting, yet again.
"Bloody hell," Sophine muttered, fanning the girl's face.
"Why aren't her guards here, yet?" Samantha asked nervously.
"Maybe they can't get through?" Sophine offered, sounding just as nervous.
"It sounds like a stampede out there..." Samantha's voice trailed away as she looked to the only windows, stained glass that painted a rosy picture of the chaos outside. She felt the familiar tug of worry in that space inside her that had been carved into a long hallway with pictures of flowers on the walls and faint noises tinkling from the far bedroom. "We should leave. Now."
"What about Gwendolyn? We can't leave her." Sophine gestured to the frail girl who was splayed out on the floor and beginning to moan again.
Samantha looked around and saw no one – not a single sister or chanter! Just when she needed them! She could have cursed her luck.
"We can't carry her through the streets," Samantha said. "The best we can do is put her in one of the back rooms and send someone for her."
The pair helped the young Lady Fortney up into a sitting position again.
Sophine lifted Gwendolyn's arm over shoulder. "Do you think she'll be safe?"
"I don't know," Samantha said, helping Sophine lift Gwendolyn onto one of the pews. "But if we all stay here, then maybe none of us have a chance."
"Don't leave me!" Gwendolyn whimpered.
Sophine sat down in the pew next to Gwendolyn. "Samantha and I have responsibilities to the throne, Lady Fortney. We cannot stay here, but you will be safe in the back rooms. As soon as we are able, we will send for your guards."
Gwendolyn nodded solemnly, her expression changing from fear to acceptance. Samantha remembered the evening when Duke Vael had told Samantha's family about the Blight. He had been so confident and reassuring while masking his own concerns about Corbinian's duty to the Oath of Starkhaven. She saw that same countenance in Sophine, and knew right then that she would make a fine Princess.
"Right," Samantha agreed, extending her hand to help Gwendolyn to her feet. "Let's get you into that first room."
It was surprisingly difficult to lift the young Fortney girl – maybe it was all her clothing that added weight – and they lumbered through the main room into the hallway, turning into the first room they could. Gently, they placed her on the pew. Upon standing back up, Samantha recognized the room; she had received letters from Sebastian right there on the Maker's rug. It was a memory suffocated by secrets. Above them, Andraste's stone likeness stared into nothing, and Samantha wondered if the Maker was watching this. Surely, if he stood by and watched the Kirkwall chantry get destroyed, he would sit by and watch the Starkhaven chantry burn as well. She had heard of the riots and looting in Kirkwall when the Grand Cleric, the First Enchanter, and the Knight Commander were all killed. She didn't doubt for one second that it would happen here, too.
"Do be careful," Gwendolyn offered, a little out of breath from her efforts.
Sophine smiled at her. "Don't worry."
As the pair dashed from the room, Gwendolyn called out. "I will pray for your safety. And the safety of all Haveners. And for..."
Her voice faded away as they got closer to the chantry's entrance for the great commotion on the other side was enough to drown out thought. They pushed against the giant wooden doors, and listened for the creak of their opening. But it didn't come. They pushed harder and harder, but the doors wouldn't budge. Samantha leaned against the door, pounding her fist against the wood and calling through to the other side, but there was no answer.
"Did they bar the door?" Sophine brushed back a strand of her flame-red hair that had fallen over her eyes. "That was quick."
"Must be some kind of precaution," Samantha reasoned through heavy breaths. "Kirkwall's chantry was destroyed before the city was sacked."
Her friend thumped an open palm against the door, yelling her complaint through to the other side. "Well, they could have at least made sure it was empty!" She ceased her assault on the door and turned around, slumping against the wood in resignation. "I guess we're stuck here with Gwen."
"Maybe not." Unconscious of her movements, Samantha's thoughts directed her gaze towards the ceiling. "There's a tower. We could go up there."
Sophine shook her head. "We'd still be stuck inside the chantry."
"Actually..." Samantha pushed off from the doors, remembering all the times Sebastian and Corbinian led her into trouble. "There's a way to get onto the roof. I know of a way down after that...We could escape from there."
Sophine looked hopeful, but Samantha didn't want to tell her about the tree they had to climb to get down to the ground. Three storeys. At least, she didn't want to tell Sophine yet.
"Come on. The stairs are way in the back."
Samantha kicked off her shoes and began to sprint down the hallway, her hair flying loose of the pins that held it back from her face. She was pleasantly surprised to find Sophine right on her heels, and shoeless as well. Samantha led her through a series of hallways until she recognized the thick wooden door that hid the staircase to the tower. If they thought that maneuvering Gwendolyn into the confession room had been difficult, then getting her up three flights of stairs would have been impossible – at least, that's what Samantha told herself to relieve the guilt of leaving the Fortney girl behind. Several times during the ascent, Samantha felt the urge to go back and at least try, but knew it wouldn't be possible to get Gwendolyn up the stairs, let alone across the roof, and then down through a tree.
"We're almost to the top," Samantha said breathlessly, looking up through the cobwebs that lined the spiral staircase. She lifted her feet again and again, almost one hundred times in their climb to the Chantry's bell tower.
Sophine was gasping for breath as well. "Thank the Maker."
Once at the top, Samantha looked around. It was just as she remembered from her youth. The bell was large, the tower was small, and the view extended across all of Starkhaven. The river was to the north, the desert was to the west, and the road to Ansburg was to the east. To the south was the Vimmark Mountains with numerous roads and paths that led to neighboring cities: Kirkwall, Orlais, Ostwick, and Nevarra. If anyone was approaching the city, it was likely from the south.
Sophine sneezed, bringing a hand to her nose. It was dusty up there. She looked to Samantha expectantly.
Samantha was anxious to keep going as well. "It's just ahead."
She tip-toed over dust motes and rodent droppings as she approached the giant chantry bell, which was as old as Starkhaven itself. The sisters and brothers of the chantry were tasked with its cleanliness, and the bell absolutely gleamed in the sunshine. Samantha decided that it was much too lovely in contrast to the backdrop of smoky plumes that lazily climbed into the bright blue western sky just inside Starkhaven's gates. The section of the city was where many smiths had set up shop, and it appeared that not even the bells at the gates could halt their work.
Just below, there was an intimidating mass of bodies as far as she could see, covering every square inch of the granite path and the grass besides. They were all facing south. Sporadic movement dotted the crowd as heads turned, hands went up and down, children were lifted onto their parents' shoulders and some people were jumping up to get a better view. The noise was deafening, even from their perch high above, and there were so many people talking all at once, that Samantha barely heard Sophine ask her, What do you see?
Samantha squinted, trying to see to the gates through all the dust that had been kicked up by the commotion. But what she saw made little sense. It was a small group – most of them armored atop horses – certainly wasn't an army. Samantha looked for obvious signs of mages, and sighed deeply in relief when she saw that none were wearing robes. They rang the bells for this?
"It's a group at the gates," Samantha called back to Sophine. "They look like fighters, but... they are just sitting there."
Sophine appeared at her side and seemed perfectly calm, her eyes darting back and forth, scrutinizing the group from a distance. She leaned over the stone railing. "What are they doing?"
"It looks like they're talking."
"Isn't that...?" Sophine squinted, pointing off in the distance. "Nevarra's banner?"
Samantha followed Sophine's finger, and indeed she saw one of the riders holding Nevarra's flag. The group seemed to be split, facing each other, and half of the group appeared to be sitting squarely between the remaining riders and Starkhaven's gates. Samantha couldn't tell what they were doing. Why would Nevarra send a small group to Starkhaven without any written notice, for that's the only reason the bells would be rung.
"Now, where?" Sophine asked.
Samantha leaned over the ledge of the bell tower and looked down the side of the building. The roof slanted downwards slightly just as she remembered, and every shingle was still perfectly intact. At the far end, a very large oak tree stretched upwards into the sky. Samantha remembered all the times that she, Flora, Sebastian, and Corbinian had hopped from limb to limb, descending to the ground. Even drunk and during the midnight hour, she remembered how easy it had been.
Samantha pointed across the roof. "We climb down that tree."
Sophine laughed loudly but when she turned to Samantha, her smile disappeared. "Sorry. I thought you were joking."
"Don't worry; I don't think anyone has ever died from falling from that tree. Getting caught in an exploding chantry however... I'm fairly certain that's always fatal."
Sophine raised her eyebrows, gesturing down to her puffy satin skirts, which had been purchased only for visits to the Chantry. "Bloody hell. And I liked this dress."
"You like it now, but with a few rips in it, you won't mind throwing it out," Samantha quipped, lifting a leg over the bell tower's stone masonry.
Sophine giggled, shaking her head as she followed Samantha's lead over the stone, using her toes to grip the stone shingles of the roof for better footing. She held her arms out for balance. "I'm so glad we went back into the chantry instead of engaging in more conversation with the Fortneys."
"It was your idea!" Samantha called back, nearly losing her balance and teetering on one foot for a second or two before regaining her poise.
So there they were, two women from high society dressed in rich finery with large twinkling jewelry decorating their fingers, ears, and foreheads, with their arms stretched out for balance, scaling the roof just above the heads of the throng of gawkers. They would have been appeared quite the sight if anyone had bothered to look up.
At the edge of the roof, Samantha cinched up the hem of her dress and crouched down, lowering one foot at a time onto the tree's limbs, testing for stability. When she was sure she had found a solid branch, she reached out and pulled herself close to the tree's trunk, which was appropriately moist for the season. As she moved around, she could hear the tree bark catching on her gown creating tiny snags in the bodice of her dress. New spring leaves hitched in her hair and scratched at her cheeks. She could have sworn she heard a rip in the lace on her sleeve. None of it mattered as she shimmied from side to side, gripping the tree and lowering herself carefully. Every so often, when she was sure of her footing, she would look up and be pleasantly surprised to see Sophine nimbly descending without a word of complaint. If Samantha had to guess, she would even say that her friend looked to be enjoying herself.
Sophine would have fit right into the rebellious adventures of Starkhaven's youth, Samantha thought wistfully before pushing thoughts of her closest childhood friends from her mind. Innely was dead, but Flora, Sebastian, and Corbinian lived still. They had all drifted away, in their own ways. She briefly wondered if she would ever see them again.
The cool earth welcomed her scratched feet, and she silently lamented at having discarded her shoes in the chantry, because the dirt-covered ground wasn't soft, but rather sharp and jagged, littered with pebbles and bark chips. Sophine hopped up beside her, looking exhilarated.
"Let's go!" she said brightly.
Samantha smiled wide, but then remembered. "We can't forget Gwen."
"Right!" Sophine said, grasping Samantha's hand and pulling her forward. "We need a guard or maybe—"
As they rounded the corner of the chantry to the front, the mob that appeared before them halted them in their tracks. Bustling and noisy, there was a herd of people – men, woman, and even children! – filling the streets, conversing with each other, squished together, shoulder-to-shoulder. Samantha lifted up to her tip-toes, but it was no use, she couldn't see over the crowd to recognize anyone. Just as she was pondering how they were going to move through the mess of people, two guards appeared in front of them, looming as large as the tree they just descended.
"There you are, my lady!" The taller of the two tall guards, Rylan of Ghost Chaser fame, exhaled. His boon had been a position as one of Goran's Royal Guard Specialists – like Keis. "Why did you not return to the palace immediately? His Highness is worried sick."
She held up a hand to show she was uninjured. "Gwendolyn Fortney fainted. We tended to her, and during that time someone barred the doors to the chantry. Rylan, you must find a way inside – Gwen is resting in one of the confession rooms."
The other man, a seasoned Royal Guard named Naveen with deep bronze skin and snow-white whiskers, cursed the girl's name under his breath.
"You know her?" Sophine asked in surprise.
Naveen sighed. "Yes. Miss Fortney fainted just last week in the royal gardens when a bee buzzed at her."
Rylan turned to Naveen. "Unbar the doors, but be quick about it, and get Miss Fortney back to her estate. I'll get Lady Samantha and Lady Sophine back to the palace."
"Alone?" Naveen gaped at Rylan.
The taller guard just scoffed. "I think I can handle it."
Bristling in irritation, Naveen retreated, and Samantha watched him as he lifted two very large planks of wood from the chantry's front doors. No wonder the door hadn't even creaked when she and Sophine had pushed against it.
"Let's go, then!" Sophine's eyes lit up with determination, and Samantha was fairly impressed with her friend's bravery; not just anyone would see the swirling mass of bodies outside and be willing to navigate them. It was then that Samantha felt that everything would be okay, because no matter what happened, the two of them would be together. And that brought her more comfort than Andraste ever could. The pair grasped hands, and Samantha set her jaw, resolving to make it back to the palace – to safety – and then find out just what in the name of Andraste was going on!
With Rylan holding onto her other arm, the three of them waded into the crowd. Samantha was immediately smashed against his hard metal armor for the density of the crowd was overwhelming the streets. Sophine was smashed into her as well as the Royal Guard Specialist barked at all those nearby to move out of his way.
A blur of faces passed in front of Samantha as she was pulled through the crowd, and after a moment, she heard a few choice phrases that caught her attention. Someone with a lowborn accent said, I can't believe he's come back. Someone else said, The man with the beard looks familiar. She was ushered forward in a lurch and a few words floated above her head: exile, disgrace, Harimann. She turned her head in the direction of the familiar name, but was pulled through a group of children who all reached for the ribbons of her dress, their giggling drowning out the voices. She flipped her head around, trying to hear more, but couldn't focus on anything in particular. Samantha was shorter than most of the bodies surrounding her, and she turned her head back and forth, craning her neck to see Starkhaven's southern gates, but her view was completely blocked by the backs of heads. Flashes of every color sailed by as she was maneuvered through a sea of moving people, her eyes unable to focus on any one thing other than the blue sky above and the granite path below.
But then she heard something unexpected. On the lips of a Havener that she passed was a name that she had known her entire life. A name she knew as well as her own. Before she knew what she was doing, she had yanked her arm free from Rylan's grip and released Sophine's hand, thrusting both of hers forward to claw at the warm bodies around her. She jostled unfamiliar shoulders as she pulled herself through the mob, barely focusing on the faces of the nameless strangers that she shoved away.
When she cleared the crowd, she ran for the gate but crashed into an armored figure. His giant hands landed gently on her shoulders, trying to calm her and push her back, but she fought against him, shoving him away and trying to see to the gate. She barely recognized Ser Rayce Taraamäe's voice as he pleaded with her to stay back, but the entire world faded away as she looked over his pauldrons and through the bars of the southern gates of Starkhaven.
The first person that caught Samantha's eye was an armored figure clad in black leather with a bow slung over her shoulder and her hair pulled away from her face. Samantha would recognize her in a drunken stupor! It was the ever beautiful, the graceful and slender – and muscular! – Flora Harimann! Samantha had to blink a few times for the sight of her dear friend sitting atop a horse and clad in a mercenary's leather from head to toe was jarring. That black leather that had nary a speck of dirt. Were her leathers new? Had she spent her inheritance on mercenary gear? She was armored in nicer garb than most Starkhaven guards.
Sitting atop another horse just to Flora's right was a rather strange-looking elf. He held a monstrous sword, which looked funny in his hands for elves were smaller than humans and the sword was as large a one of the iron bars of Starkhaven's palace gates. But that wasn't the most unusual thing about him: Samantha could see a stretch of tattoos that traveled up his arms, disappearing underneath his vest and reappearing on his neck and his chin. They were as snow-white as his shock of thick hair. He looked extremely unusual.
Flora didn't notice Samantha at the gate, for her gaze was locked upon the man in front of her who was arguing with another man. When Samantha shifted her gaze yet again, her jaw dropped.
She could scarcely believe her eyes. He looked older, but still stunningly beautiful. His hair was combed back, and his regal armor was polished to a high shine. He was here! And when he turned those striking blue eyes to her – Vael-blue – Samantha thought that surely this must be a dream.
It was Sebastian Vael.
But before Samantha could say or do anything, she was struck by the man that he was arguing with. He was sitting atop a horse that looked more like a prize steed, and though the man had his back turned to Samantha and it was so loud that she could barely hear Ser Rayce yelling at her to stay back, something made that man turn his gaze. He looked to be in mid-sentence when he saw her, his expression changing from fury to... something else. Something softer.
Samantha stopped fighting against the Knight Commander of Starkhaven. She stopped moving, she stopped breathing, she couldn't see anything else.
Then if His plan should ever separate me from you, Sammie, I will move the stars from the sky, I will fight demons and mages and dragons and Qunari, I will cross the Fade if I have to until I am returned to you.
She was staring into the eyes of Corbinian Vael.