In his dream, the house was shaking.
Garrett blinked in confusion. "M-Merrill...?" Forcing his eyes open, he focused his blurry vision on the other end of the bed...and found his arm not around his love, but resting on an empty and cool mattress. "Merrill?" He raised his head and looked around, but found the room empty and dark, his black clothes and crimson cloak wrapped around her white dress on the floor where they'd left them. "Merrill? Where-"
The house shook again, for real.
Accompanied by a boom.
"Merrill!?" Garrett was suddenly on his feet, dazed, confused, but instinct drove him, making him rush for his sword resting on a table, gripping it tight before rushing for the door.
A shrill scream shot through the estate, full of horror and pain.
"Merrill!?" Garrett wrenched the door open and stepped into the hall, the air cold against his bare chest, making his sleepy nerves tingle. In the hall, a smell of sulfur and brimstone struck him from the right.
So he dashed that way, running, leaping past fleeing servants.
An explosion shook the house, accompanied by a crash of falling armour.
Now fully awake, Garrett turned a corner, ran, eyes widening as his brain worked overtime. This is the way to mother's room, why is-
Opposite the door to Leandra's room, Bastile sat, in full armour, cracked and smoking, his helmet off and blood dripping down his forehead and a dazed look in his eyes. "Bastile!?" Garrett drew his blade, throwing the sheath aside, leaping over the man's legs. "Mother!?"
The woman's room was trashed, freezing Garrett's blood.
Her bed was split in two, feathers from within it still flying through the air. A cupboard lay fallen, a table smashed, pieces of glass strewn over the floor along with a gory mess of blood. "MOTHER!?"
"Serah..." Whirling about, Garrett found Bastile weakly lifting his arm, eyes trying to focus on his lord. "...I saw...tried to..."
Instantly, Garrett was kneeling by the man, gripping his armoured shoulder and holding the man's gaze. "Tell me everything, quickly, man!"
"De Launcet..." What!? Bastile shook his head, gaze flickering to the room with a look of fright, then back to Garrett. "...ring of blood, I saw him come through a ring of blood..." Blood, blood...not her blood, Maker...
With a mixture of terror and relief, Garrett shook the man as the dazed look returned. "De Launcet!? He's a noble and not a mage!"
Bastile's answer was a cough and a smile. "And lady Merrill is just an elf...no?" The smile faded, turning to an angry growl. "He took lady Hawke...sent me flying when I opened the door..." Suddenly, the man's hand shot out, grabbing Garrett by the shoulder, eyes intense. "Take her back!"
For a moment, Garrett only stared at the concussed Chevalier. Then he nodded. Stood up. "I will."
Next to him, the elves Fenn and Orana had appeared, the woman with a cushion to put under Bastile's head, the other with a cup of wine.
Garrett, ignoring them, turned on his heel and began to march back the way he came. "Pip!" The wide-eyed sergeant coming around the corner stared at the noble. "Assemble the men in the front yard! I want everyone out!"
Then he was in the armoury, not remembering even having taken the steps to reach it.
Where's Merrill!? Did he take her too!?
His new suit of silverite armour was cold and hard, plates polished to a mirror shine and smoothly fitting to his body as he fast and with precise tugs and wrenches strapped each piece on a little too tightly. Sword sheathed into his belt, Garrett strapped his shield on too, fist gripping it clenching hard.
I'm going to kill him.
A servant appeared in the doorway, his words lost in the buzz filling Garrett's mind, simply nodding to the man, Garrett brushed past him, sending the elf stumbling aside.
If he's hurt her in any way...I'll rip that stupid cock off him and ram it down his throat!
Outside, the air was cool and crisp, the darkness hinting at light to come, yet it was not yet dawn.
Nor will there be for him!
Ahead, men and women were running into position, armour hurriedly being strapped on or even forgotten, some lacking all but their swords. Others, having been faster, already standing in attention in full gear, halberds, spears and shields glinting in the torchlight of a lone servant.
"Soldiers!" Garrett didn't stop marching, heading right for the gate. "Lady Hawke has been taken!" A mutter of surprise echoed down the line, and Garrett ignored it. "We're taking her back right now!" Worried glances were exchanged. Meanwhile, Garrett gestured at the guard by the gate, making the woman hurry to open it as he looked back to his troops, counting near fifty, the entire estate's garrison at his command. "Follow me!"
Despite the worried frowns, the reply of the soldiers was as one, a deep chorus, echoing through the darkness."Yes, Serah!"
Garrett, whirling about, stepped into the streets, strides long and fast as he strode over cobbled stones. First he was walking down streets, then across the central plaza, his soldiers loudly following, a column of steel and muscle unexpectedly appearing in the darkness.
He has mother. He has...maybe he has...both of them.
Garrett's strides lengthened.
Few were out at that hour, those who did, wisely scurried off. Even the prostitutes, at first acting as if they could court someone in the column, skulked off at the sight of the man at the front glaring at them. At the plaza, a few of the city guard stood, eyes wide as they stared at the column, those paired together exchanging puzzled whispers. Hawke was paying their salaries, and technically a lord was allowed to march with an armed escort through the town...but at night, with a small army?
Finally, one of the guards turned and ran towards the barracks.
Garrett watched him go, waving at some of his men to not pursue.
Irrelevant.
Ahead, the De Launcet estate loomed. A fine main building of white marble and gilded archways, it was as luxurious as befit a wealthy Orlesian. Even the walls, now built high, were white and with gilded spikes at the top to dissuade any would-be climber. The gate, of burnished steel with a single vision slit, looked impossible to breach.
It'll open.
The slit had been opened, a pair of wide eyes staring at Garrett and approaching troops. "W-who goes th-there...?"
"You know bloody well who, open the gate." Garrett called back, still marching forward.
"I...m-master Guillaume h-has."
Raising a fist, Garrett stopped his column and silenced the gatekeeper. He himself kept approaching though. "Open. The. Gate."
Now!
Beyond, the eyes widened even further. "I...I can't, he'd-"
"Let me tell you what I will do if you don't open the gate." Garrett interrupted, stepping right in front of the metal, one fist pounding into it with force enough to make the gatekeeper jump back. Garrett stared down at the man, growling. "I'll start, in poetic justice, with your family. I will-"
With a click, the gate was unlocked.
"Wise." Garrett kicked the gate, sending it swinging open, revealing a large garden and a gatekeeper already running away. "Forward march!"
Stepping into the yard, Garrett saw black shapes approach from the right, two of the foremost materializing into two men in leather armour, swords drawn. "Stupid elf! He's not allowed to enter!" The foremost shouted. "Men, to me! Charge!" He rushed at Garrett.
Garrett ducked low under the man's swing, and as they passed one another, Garrett's sword was drawn with a flourish of silver and red.
Groaning, the commander of De Launcet's forces doubled over, clutching at the gaping wound in his left side.
The next man threw himself at Garrett, only to have the noble throw him back with a punch of his shield. A moment later, Garrett lunged, the thrust slicing its way through just under the man's chin before smashing its way through bone and brain, making his foe freeze, unable to understand his sudden death.
Silence, the dark shapes of the rest of the garrison coming to a stop.
Then their companion fell backwards, crashing into a bush with a cough and a gush of blood.
"You! Halt!" Garrett swung the blade towards the remaining garrison...and as one they froze still. "Weapons down! Pip! Have them restrained!"
In a rush of soldiers obeying, the De Launcet garrison began to back off, unsure and afraid as they lowered their weapons at the face of the many Hawke troops approaching them.
Good. Garrett, lowering his blade, turned his attention to the De Launcet mansion, eyes narrowing.
Behind him though, a man putting his hand on Garrett's shoulder. "Serah, I'll lead some men to accompany-"
"I'm perfectly capable of gutting a man myself, Pip." Garrett interrupted, making the hand let go as if burnt. "And this is a family-matter."
He marched forward, alone.
They better be okay...
Ahead, the steps leading up to the double-doors were few and finely decorated.
Garrett marched up them, putting his helmet on and lowering the visor.
The double-doors loomed before him, white and gold, yet somehow dark and evil, foreboding with promises of death and pain.
Garrett marched straight at them, launching his foot at them.
With a crunch, the doors gave way, swinging open so hard they swung back, slamming shut behind Garrett even as he turned his head, narrowed eyes searching. "Launcet! Show yourself!"
The large room looked like it had been taken straight out of a nightmare.
The floor of the main hall was smeared with blood, pale bodies were strewn across the walls, some stuck on spears and pikes, the bodies of elves, of servants. At the centre of the floor, a large altar of stone had been dragged forth. Dulci De Launcet, or what was left of her, lay naked on the altar, her hands and feet bound to the corners, her ribs sticking up towards the roof, steaming organs from within hanging down the front of the altar.
At its feet, a giggling Emile, her son, sat in a pool of blood, the equally naked boy shaking back and forth.
Garrett, despite his rage, took a step back.
Ahead, a long set of stairs ran up to a large balcony, reaching so far up, Garrett had to turn his neck to catch sight of it...and growl as he finally saw his prey. "Launcet!"
The man, looking as finely dressed and noble as he usually did, smiled down at Garrett, though his sunken brown eyes carried the light of madness, a flicker of purple within them. "Hawke...your mother and I have something to tell you...Leandra, dear?" He turned, gesturing for someone...and Garrett felt his heart wrench tight as he saw her.
Leandra was wearing a beautiful red dress, and a glowing smile, her eyes shining with happiness. "I've finally agreed to marry him, dearie...I hope it doesn't come as a surprise, but he was just so...persuasive." The smile was beautiful, wonderful...yet wrong, the corner of the lips turning into a smirk as she twisted her head...and a drop of blood escaped a barely visible cut across her throat. Maker... "You like my new look?"
More blood escaped the wound, then more, a crimson tide running down the woman's neck, fusing with her dress even as Guillaume smiled at her in adoration. The woman's eyes were on Garrett though, amusement flickering in them, the room seemingly pulsing with power, of magic.
Garrett stared, his world turning into nothing but that room, of that feeling, once boiling in him, now overpowering all, surging into him...
"NO!" Garrett rushed forward.
"Son, please stop him!" Guillaume laughed, embracing Leandra, coating the front of his tunic in blood. "He wants to take your new mother away from us!"
A shriek, and Emile threw Dulci's heart aside and launched himself at Garrett's swinging sword.
A second later he crashed back into the altar, his head split in two.
"He's trying to kidnap me!" Leandra shrieked, terror in her voice as she clutched Guillame's hands...yet beneath it all, there was mockery, a laugh about to bubble out. "Servants, please, save your mistress!"
All around, the pale bodies, drained of blood, pulled themselves to their feet, some ripping themselves free from the spears and pikes holding them and pulling the weapons free.
Roaring in defiance, Garrett didn't stop to wait for them, he rushed into the foremost, crushing a skull into a smear of brains and bone against the wall while cutting another in two along the waist.
Now, Guillaume laughed, amused as Garrett roared back in wordless rage. "I thought you were a templar, Hawke!?"
Garrett howled back, spinning as a pike brushed against his breastplate, lashing shield shattering the skull of the dead elf charging him even as his sword parried a lunging spear before cutting the hands off the user with a furious backhand slash.
"This will be easier than we had planned, my love..." Leandra crooned, her voice holding a strange undercurrent.
In the hall, Garrett was spinning, shield and sword blindly slashing, smashing, crushing, killing. The naked corpses fell, broken and torn apart, yet they kept coming, mindlessly throwing themselves at the man of silverite and rage.
"That's it, get angry!" Guillaume laughed.
All around, the corpses rose anew and burst into flames, flames roaring with life, forming great maws and long claws.
They bellowed at Garrett, their unnatural and complete state of rage washing over him like a wave.
Garrett roared back, throwing himself at one of the demons, tackling it and lifting it off the floor, his silverite armour glowing with the heat pressing against it even as he threw the creature into another, blindly hacking at them before they could recover, splitting limbs of fire and smoke, ripping the flesh the creatures inhabited apart.
All around him, the room erupted into fire and heat, waves of it rushing at him, smashing into his raised shield as he braced against it, the sheer force of it making his boots slide across the boiling blood and blackening marble.
I...will...not... Garrett staggered, sweat pouring down his body, stinging his eyes, hissing and rising in steam from his armour as he slid further and further back. Hate you!
Then his back was against the wall, his armour glowing red, the edges of his shield crumpling at the heat.
Beyond, Guillaume was laughing like a madman, Leandra with him, yet it was not Leandra...
Garrett's eyes narrowed.
"Enough!"
The boom of energy sent the demons reeling back, their streams of fire evaporating like clouds.
The rage, focused into a singularity in Garrett, became a dark nothing, an emptiness. Garrett, taking a step forward, lashed out with it.
Again, the demons reeled back, the fire in their bodies fading, smouldering coal replacing it.
Growling low, Garrett advanced.
A demon tried to lash at him, and he smashed the claw aside and cut the arm into pieces, his return-stroke slashing another across the face, sending both evaporating into ash.
Around him, demons lunged from all sides. Stop. The singularity lashed out, the emptiness sending the demons backwards, making them wail in agony. Beyond, Leandra was gasping. Now.
"Launcet!" Garrett's roar exploded from his throat as he rushed forth, then lunged to the left, then right, then back, sword and shield swinging and smashing. All around, the demons, brittle coal now, slow and weak, shattered into ash. "Face me!"
A cry, and Garrett turned in time to see Guillaume come flying, the man leaping straight off the balcony, two blades of what seemed to be solid blood in his hands. "You will not deny me her!" The man slashed at Garrett, the blade in his hands moving like a snake, ducking under Garrett's blade before striking his breastplate and making him stagger back. "I waited twenty-seven years for her!" He lunged with his other blade, the weapon extending like a whip, lashing against Garrett's helmet. "I will not be denied a second longer!" Spinning, Launcet swung both blades at Garrett, making the noble jump back as his shield dented under the powerful impacts. "She is mine!"
Again, Launcet spun with his swings.
But this time Garrett took a step forward, ducking under one slash while letting the other scratch his shoulder-plate, his own blade disappearing into De Launcet's gut.
The mage froze, eyes going wide in surprise, looking down at the blade as he slid to his knees.
"I deny you." Garrett growled, pulling his blade free and taking a step back.
Guillaume stared at him, his face twitching as it twisted into a grimace of hatred.
A moment later Garrett's sword flickered out, sending Guillaume's head rolling across the floor.
Silence.
A long breath.
Shaking arms.
Then a whisper. "Oh baby..." Looking up, Garrett's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Leandra struggling down the stairs, the woman clutching at her throat with one hand as the other gripped the railing tight. Her eyes were alight with relief. "...my son...you've saved me..."
Garrett took a step closer, confused as he watched his mother coming close to the end of the stairs. "Mother, I..."
"...you've saved my life, heh..." Leandra smiled wide, struggling down the steps. "...you protected me and did so, hah, well..." M-mother...? Coming to a stop at the last step, Leandra threw her head back. "Hahahahahaha!"
Garrett, frozen still, could only stare as his mother's dress crumpled, the skin beneath shifting, as the laughter turned cruel and ethereal.
Her laughter slowly ebbing, Dhavine bared her fanged teeth in a cruel smile as she slowly looked back down at him. "Told you, you would regret crossing me..."
Garrett lowered his shield and sword.
"Lost for words? How unlike you..." Dhavine purred, her face changing to a motherly smile. "Son."
Garrett took a step back.
"What? Won't fight me, brother?" Bethany's face twisted into a coy smile as she raised a long and curved blade of pure darkness. She looked down at herself, smirking. "Remember when we used to bathe together when we were young? What if we did that now? Would you show how loving a brother you truly are...?"
Garrett's eyes widened in horror and anger.
The face before him changed again, Carver snorting at him. "Well, you do have a habit of screwing the family, no?"
A roar, and Garrett launched himself at the demon.
Leandra parried his swing, eyes wide in terror. "Son, no!"
Pain!
Garrett staggered back, the dark blade having smashed him across the shoulder the moment he'd hesitated.
"Oh, that looked painful, ma Vhenan..." Merrill looked at him with a wince of sympathy...then smirked. "Want me to kiss it better?" A hiss, and a forked black tongue lashed out from between her lips.
"Stop that!" Garrett roared, launched himself at his love, swinging wild, driving her back.
"Stop what? Fighting unfairly?" Merrill blinked in confusion, then Carver was scowling at him. "Like you'd done anything but that."
"Argh!" Roaring, Garrett gripped the man by the shoulders, heaving him away and sending him flying into the wall. "I'll kill you!"
"Well you have to be good at something, right?" Gamlen grunted, struggling to his feet, black blade used as a crutch as he licked away some dark blood from his lip. Looking up, he glared at Garrett. "Not very good at the defending your family bit, after all, eh?"
A mindless bellow, and Garrett rushed forth, slashing the blade out of Gamlen's hands, then smashing his shield into his face and against the wall.
Looking back at him, her face a ruined mess, Merrill cried. "Y-you c-can't pro-protect an-anyone, c-can you...?"
A cry, and Garrett threw the woman to the floor, despair gripping him.
"Funny how you desire us safe..." Bethany looked up at him, smirking.
Garrett went cold.
"I'll deny you just that, they'll never be safe." She rose. "None of your family, extended or otherwise, will be safe under your protection. This, I promise you..."
Garrett took a step forward, then stopped, blinking furiously, shaking with horror and grief.
"...and you believe me now, don't you..." Leandra smiled. "...son?"
Roaring, Garrett rushed forward.
A gasp, and Garrett looked down, finding Merrill looking up at him, clutching at him while his bloodied blade was sticking out her back. The elf's smile was cool, calculating and amused. "You'll get used to killing your family..." For a moment, Dhavine's face flickered before him, beautiful eyes flashing with her victory, dark tongue touching Garrett's lip.
Then Leandra lay in his arms, the woman's eyes were closed, the cut across her throat no longer pumping blood, her body pale as marble, the blade in her chest covered in her blood.
Garrett fell to his knees, lost for words, lost for thought.
All but one.
No.
8
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8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being such a tough nut.