"This is nice."
Garrett blinked, his mind too focused on the tired-looking troops in the hall to register the strange words. Turning his head, he looked down at Merrill, watching her offer a pale smile. She had been getting bouts of morning sickness the last few weeks, and as such, this morning's walk was a rare thing. Garrett had been surprised when Merrill had come up to him, offering to walk with him, she hadn't done so before...then again, he had been so busy...
With an attempt at a smile, a jab of guilt in his heart, Garrett managed a reply. "What do you mean, my little elf?"
Merrill pressed closer, between Garrett's dragon bone plate and her silverite chainmail there was no warmth...yet the gesture itself still warmed him, if only for a moment. "This, a walk, just the two of us...been a while since we saw each other." Her smile turned hesitant, asking. "I've missed it..."
Garrett, wincing with guilt, forced a smile. "I know, it's been a...busy time, I guess." He sighed, head moving to trace his gaze across the hall they were walking down. "And it's my fault, I know...it all went...it wasn't supposed to be like this. By now we should have been at home, not...you know."
They were a third of the way up the tower's height, far up enough to have a good view, near the ground enough to shoot foes approaching, the wide hall they walked through lit up by sunlight streaming through the gaping holes where coloured windows had once been. The windows, shattered since long ago by the templar bombardment, were nowhere to be seen, the walls around the large gaps cracked and chipped, but standing tall. Dwarven made, the Tevinters sure knew how to spend their money. Garrett was glad for it, the Tower looked fragile from the outside, but it was anything but, it was unbreakable. Just a bit longer, a bit longer and the Divine will act, she must act...
On the other side of the hall, lining the inner side, tables and chairs had been put up. Men and women, mostly the fallen Reinhart's troops, sat and drank and ate, welcoming the relief the end of the bombardment had brought. The Templars, worn down from the many assaults, needed their rest too, and the besieged were enjoying what little time was granted as much as they could. At least they're not fighting each other, or arguing...guess they're too tired to. The thought at least brought some relief.
"You can't blame it all on yourself." Merrill pointed out, shaking her head as she turned away, a pensive look on her face. Her tone, soft, held a wistful note to it. "Anders planned this all, if he hadn't done what he did...we wouldn't be here. If Meredith hadn't driven the city to near ruin, we wouldn't be here. If there had been no Circle here, we wouldn't be here." A sigh, and the elf looked back up at him, shaking her head. "Putting all the blame on yourself is easy, love. It makes everything so simple, horrible, but simple...but it's not right, and doing it does...bad things to you."
Garrett paused mid step, then pulled Merrill closer, smiling at her. You're wiser than anyone but me knows. "I...of course, thank you, love. What would I do without you?"
"Probably the same thing you're doing now?" Merrill asked, a hint of teasing in her tone, though also of disapproval. Smiling, she looked away. "I know you didn't exactly do all of this for me...I didn't like it from the start, after all." Garrett grimaced. "But I understand, it's for the good of the cla...I mean city." A shrug. "If only Anders hadn't done what he did..."
Garrett, bereft of an answer, started walking again, holding the woman close as he grimaced. Damn it, she's bloody right, she never wanted all this, yet I dragged her into it anyway because of my ambition. And now this moment is ruined too...where's Maric when you bloody need him? Why did I tell him to keep the mage-children company? They were doing fine...shouldn't have let them see the dog and fall in love with him. "Listen, Merrill, I have responsibilities here, to all who's here and the city, but you...Maker, I wish I could get you out safely, that you could be safe somewhere while I-"
A finger silenced him.
Blinking, Garrett looked down, finding Merrill smiling up at him, her thin digit keeping his lips sealed. "Don't be stupid, husband." She grinned at his arched eyebrows. "Your fight is my fight, and there's no way I'm leaving your side ever again. Besides, what kind of Dalish would I be if I abandoned my people in their time of need?" Slowly, she let her finger slip from his lips, the hand coming to rest on the back of his neck instead.
Garrett couldn't help but grin back. "Your people?"
"Well...they're not Dalish..." Merrill cocked her head to the side, smirking. "...but no one's perfect."
Garrett couldn't help it, he laughed, then leant down, kissing Merrill as his hands wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground.
At the back, a soldier whooped as another whistled a cat-call, making the man and woman grin against each others' lips.
For a moment, it was perfect.
Then the ground shook.
Blinking, Garrett looked up with a sigh, the tremor under his feet all too familiar.
"Artillery!" Well yes, isn't that warning bloody pointless by now? Ah well, figures that Meredith wouldn't give us the entire day... Looking up, Garrett found a man running away from his perch on a window though, face ashen. "Back! Back! Back!"
Garrett, glaring at the man even as he held on to a sighing Merrill, shook his head. "Calm down, don't be so-"
The ground shook, then heaved, making the rest of Garrett's words die in his throat as he was thrown to the floor in a cloud of dust, pebbles raining over him. Blinking against the stinging cloud of dust around him, Garrett saw part of the wall had been smashed open, a rock the size of a man still rolling across the floor as the remains of the wall lay smashed around it.
Again, the ground heaved, and Garrett was momentarily thrown into the air before heavily landing on the floor, floor now splitting and cracking before his eyes. Shaking his ringing head, he looked back up, seeing Merrill struggling to her feet. Her eyes, already large, were impossibly wide as she fixed a wide stare at him. "Garrett!" With a glance down, Garrett realised the reason for her horror. The stone below him was coming apart, the impacts enough to have turned it to gravel, making everything lean to the left...and a glance there revealed open air...and a long drop. "Take my hand!"
Pushing himself to all fours, the floor beneath him giving way like quicksand, Garrett raised a hand towards her. Merrill took a step forward, reaching out-
Again, the ground heaved, and Merrill shrieked, the floor she stood upon coming free from the rest of the hall, throwing her onto her side as it sloped, then fell...right out into the air.
"Merrill!" Garrett shot to his feet, vainly reaching out into open air...and then the ground gave way under his feet, sending him onto his back and dragging him with it in an avalanche of pebbles and rocks into the air where a wall had once been.
Below, the Tower's exterior, smashed and broken from the bombardment, had formed a steep slope, a cliff of rocks and dust, nearly, but not quite, a sheer drop.
Garrett screamed, flailing, falling.
Pain!
White lights flashed before his vision, head suddenly on fire.
Then darkness took him.
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Maker...
Spitting bloody phlegm, Garrett rolled onto his stomach, his head swimming, his ears ringing. Looking up, he found himself surrounded by a cloud of grey dust, black plumes rising above him, making the light of the sun only appear in fleeting glances.
Where am I?
On his right, he could vaguely see the Circle Tower rise up, the building seemingly impossibly tall when one was so close to it. It looked odd though, one side, from halfway up, wasn't the finely sculpted front of the Tower, but a cliff of rocks and pebbles. In many spots, one could see right into the Tower, the supporting pillars still holding the wounded Tower up, even some parts of the walls still remained...but largely, it was a massive wound in the side of the building reaching from mid-height down to a few dozen feet from the ground.
Wait, I'm outside the Tower?
Even as Garrett watched, more catapult-shots were impacting with the Tower. Some were massive rocks, largely shattering against the wall or bouncing off it, but others were barrels of burning pitch or sacks full of rocks, making more and more dust and smoke rain down on Garrett, making him blink and struggle to orient himself.
What's going on? Why are...Merrill!
"Me-" Garrett coughed, his lungs on fire from dragging a fistful of dust into them. "Me-" Another cough, more painful, and Garrett drew his sword, pressing the tip against the ground as he struggled onto his knees. "Merrill..."
A cough, another spit of blood, this time black with dust, and Garrett managed to draw a proper breath. "Merrill!" He raised a leg, foot coming onto the ground, his body aching. She wore chainmail, it was a long drop, she could be... "Merrill!" Next to him, a fist-sized rock smashed into the ground. Another could have... Ripping his helmet stuck to his left hip free, Garrett pressed it onto his aching skull with a grimace even as he managed to draw more air into his lungs. "Merrill!"
He rose to his feet, swaying, but getting steadier by the moment. His heart was racing though, his eyes wide as he raised his visor. "Merrill! Answer me! Where are you!?"
Around him, there was only a fog of dust and smoke.
And a shape.
Garrett's heart leapt, the shape was humanoid, a weapon sticking up the back. "Merrill...?!" Garrett took a step forward. The shape grew more solid, larger, broader, the hint of a spear turning into a sword on a man's back as Garrett's hope faded...and was replaced by dread. "C-Carver...?"
"What, not happy to see me?" Carver, advancing straight ahead, put his helmet on with precise movements, then drew his sword, steps wide and unerringly going straight for Garrett.
Garrett licked his lips, shaking his head at the sight. "Brother, I know that we haven't-"
"Don't call me that!" Carver lunged.
Gasping, Garrett found his parry to be too slow, making the heavy greatsword carve a groove into his breastplate and send him stumbling aside. Struggling to a stop, Garrett stared at Carver in shock. The man, now still, glared back from the slits in his helmet, sword still poised after the blow that had sent Garrett stumbling. "No...no..." Garrett shook his head even as he reached back, freeing his shield. Maker, I can't...no, I can't. "...Carver, don't do this."
"Or what?" Carver snarled, sword suddenly held high as he once more advanced, giving Garrett but a moment to lower the visor to his helmet. "You'll send me to my room without supper?!" The greatsword descended, striking Garrett with tremendous force. Maker, he can't be as strong as the Arishok, it's impossible! Garrett, even if he'd wanted to, had no time to strike back with his sword as Carver stepped to the right and slashed again, the blade clashing against Garrett's shield with enough force to send Garrett stumbling sideways. "You'll make me chop wood for a few hours!?" A third strike, this time coming from low, and Garrett, already off balance, found his parrying shield pushed up into his visor with a ringing noise, making him blink and stagger backwards. "I'm not yours to bully around anymore!"
"Bully?!" Garrett, backing away from his madman of a brother, shook his head in confusion. "I have done nothing but tried to keep you safe and helped you as best I can. Perhaps I wasn't always the most warm person, I often forgot about all but the practical bits, but I never bullied you." He stared at the man before him, terrified with how much of a stranger he was. "I loved you!"
"Loved!?" Carver growled, sword leading him forward. "Do you forbid someone to see a woman and then steal her away yourself when you 'love' them!?"
"That's different!" Garrett caught Carver's blade with his shield, raising his own to beat the man back...and then found the pommel of Carver's greatsword swing around, smashing into Garrett's helmet and staggering him backwards. "I didn't plan to fall in love with her! And you...you don't love her, brother, this is not worth fighting about!" Adopting a low crouch, shield and sword ready to block, Garrett started inching to his right, watching Carver mimic him. "And if you truly do, you would help me find her, she's here, somewhere, maybe hurt..."
"Help you so you can go fuck her some more?" Carver snarled, shaking his head. "Oh no, I'm through helping you so you can get all the benefits." He lowered his blade, taking a bold step forward. "You've doomed her, you know, she'll die because of you."
Garrett grit his teeth. "She won't, I won't let that happen."
"Funny." Carver advanced again, sword suddenly swinging up for a strike at Garrett's head...only for him to hold the blow, his foot shooting out under Garrett's raised shield, smashing into his breastplate and sending him onto his back. "Like you could protect anyone!" Gasping, Garrett watched the man's blade descend.
He rolled away from the blow.
"You got Gamlen killed!"
Another swing, and Garrett rolled aside again.
"Bethany!"
A thrust, and Garrett parried it aside.
"Mother!"
Garrett spotted the feint a moment too late, the blow was replaced by a foot pushing into his chest, holding him still before the greatsword swung from an unexpected direction, cleaving into the inside of Garrett's shield and sending it spinning out of his hand.
Above, Carver loomed, a giant raising his blade with both hands, the tip aimed at Garrett's throat. "You've gotten everyone you've ever loved killed! Why would she be any different?"
Garrett had no answer to that, no tactic, no words, he just lay there.
Maybe this is for the best...maybe he's right...?
A growl echoed in the dust, and then Carver suddenly jumped off Garrett and spun around, blade a whirl.
The growl turned into a crunch...and a mass of fur and blood rolled past Carver, coming to a stop just in front of Garrett's feet.
Sitting up, he stared at the impressive body before him now lying limp, at the neck of the great beast, still pumping blood. At the head, lying next to his left hand, wide eyes staring at him. What...? Y-you shouldn't be here... Reaching out, body numb, Garrett scratched the hound behind the ear.
Carver's voice, dark and foreboding, was a growl. "And now you've gotten Maric killed too..."
Garrett looked up, meeting Carver's gaze with his own, eyes narrowing. "You always did have a knack for blaming me for everything." He rose to his feet, his voice cold, his blood boiling. "And for doing very stupid things..."
Carver snorted. "Tell that to Bethan-"
With a roar, Garrett launched himself forward, sword held with both hands as he hacked it straight down at Carver's head.
With a screech, blade met blade as the Templar parried with both hands raised, his elbow shooting out to push Garrett off balance, his riposte coming an instant later, aimed at Garrett's face.
Simply turning his head, Garrett let the thrust slide off his helmet as he charged right into his foe, swinging his blade like a club, a great horizontal swipe at Carver's stomach.
The Templar jumped forward and over the blade, rolled onto his feet and thrust, his blade skimming off Garrett's raised gauntlet as the man thrust back, only to find his blade missing Carver's head only to poke a hole into the air next to it.
Carver's left hand shot up, between Garrett's arms, grabbing his left and wrenching it down, making him stagger as his whole body twisted sideways to maintain the grip on his blade...and Carver swiped his feet from under him with his leg.
Garrett landed on his back, but rolled onto his feet even as pain laced its way up his side as Carver's blade finally found a chink in the dragonbone.
Staggering back, breathing heavily, Garrett watched Carver calmly regarding him, the man shaking his head in disdain. "This is the great Champion of Kirkwall? Killer of the Arishok? If this is how great you are, I would have killed the Qunari with ease, I would have killed the High Dragon, I would have been the one to become a noble, had you not stolen my chance...I should have been the great Champion of Kirkwall, not you!"
Panting, Garrett shook his head. "You don't have the slightest clue of what being a noble means, or what greatness is."
Snarling, Carver attacked again.
And again.
And again.
A low cut turning into a high thrust.
A high cut turning into a low.
A slash turning into a strike with the pommel.
A high cut turning into a thrust only to be turned into a lower cut.
A low blow turning into a kick, followed by a slash, followed by a thrust, followed by a twisting of the blade and a gush of blood.
Garrett, armour dented and cut, fell onto his knees, the white dragonbone plate awash with blood pouring from his left armpit, his collar and his right thigh, from his cleaved helmet...
Garrett watched his sword fall, numb hands unable to hold onto it.
Looking up, he found Carver staring at him as he stepped back and pulled his helmet off. For a moment, a look of shock fell on the man's face, but it was swiftly replaced by a glare of hatred, of spite. Stepping closer, the man raised his sword once more, snarling. "What, then, makes you greater than I? Answer me that."
Garrett, not mortally wounded, but in too much pain to even move from where he knelt, just stared back.
"Exactly." With a growl, Carver slashed down.
And missed, the blade slamming into the ground to Garrett's left.
Surprised, Garrett watched the templar fall onto one knee, clutching at a bolt embedded into his side. "What makes him greater than you..." A familiar voice, though distant, snarled. "...is too long a list to count." Another bolt whizzed out, striking Carver in the shoulder and making him fall onto his back. "Mostly though, he's not a prick like you." Stepping out of the dust, Varric held Bianca ready as he marched past Garrett and placed a boot on Carver's chest, holding the feebly struggling Templar fast. Turning his head, Varric stared at Maric's remains with a sigh. "Told him to wait for me to catch up..." Another sigh, and then man turned his gaze to Garrett, holding the man's gaze, waiting.
Below, Carver rocked back and forth, words laboured as blood poured from his wounds, his voice a low whisper. "Wait...wait...please...wait..."
There's nothing to say, not anymore.
Garrett nodded.
Nodding back, Varric turned his gaze back to Carver, aimed, and fired.
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Merrill was hurt, hurt and confused.
Shaking her head, she stared around, desperate to orient herself. All around there was nothing but dust and smoke though. There was no wall, no city, not even the Tower...only a mist of dust and smoke. Am I dead? The thought was terrifying, but didn't strike her as likely...she doubted death would let you feel a sprained ankle.
Twisting her head, spear held in front of her, Merrill blinked, trying to make sense of where she was. Did Garrett fall with me or did he manage to stay up? Ancestors, I can't recall...I have to find him, I have to find him and...
The sound of running feet made her turn, hopeful, smiling. Thank you, Mythal, I-
The feet were running faster, and it wasn't the armoured boots of Garrett, but something lighter, faster. Ahead, a shape appeared, fast like a blur, glowing. "Oh, hello Fenris." Merrill blinked, confused. "I didn't know you were here, are you-ah!" She raised her spear, blocking the blade suddenly slashing at her in a horizontal swipe. "What are you doing!?"
"Silence, witch, die with some dignity." Fenris, still running, turned, blade held to his side as he with narrowed eyes zoned in on Merrill.
By the gods! Confused, Merrill summoned her magic, the Fade around her easy to grasp hold onto as the veil ran thin in the city. Earth, remember growing, remember the seeds of old, remember when all was forest and green...grow! With a crack, the ground in front of Merrill split, green vines from seeds long forgotten shooting up in front of her like a solid wall. "Can't we talk about this!?"
A moment later, Fenris stood atop the wall, apparently having managed to leap a good nine feet into the air. Looking down at the wide-eyed Merrill, he shook his head. "Nothing to talk about, apostate. You and your lover have gone too far, this is a mercy, not just for you, but for the rest of Thedas."
"B-but we're friends!" Merrill leapt back as Fenris jumped to the ground. "You don't want to do this!" Grow, grow fast and cling to the trunks, cling and wring and hold. The energies of the Fade easily found more husks from old seeds...and vines rose once more, few, but quick, curling around Fenris' ankles.
A blaze of blue light from the elf's tattoos, and the vines crumpled, black and dead, the Fade itself pulling back, as if burnt.
The elf was anathema to magic in a way no templar could achieve.
"Garrett!?" Leaping back yet again, Merrill held her spear level with Fenris. Earth, you moved once, ground shook and thunder rose, do it again, fly! Fly like you once did! The Fade's energies tore at the ground, and the ground responded, chunks of stone and mud shooting into the air, hurtling for Fenris.
The elf ducked and leapt to his left, moving like water around the missile as he lunged for Merrill. Jumping back, she thrust her spear back at the man's hands, only to find him twisting his blade, parrying the spear and binding it to his cross-guard as he ran up the length. "He's not coming, blood-mage!" Merrill screamed in terror, the sound amplified as she in a panic let the Fade's energies coil around the vibrations in her throat.
With a groan, Fenris staggered back several steps, his eyes closed shut. I...I shouldn't...I...there must be a better way. Merrill did it anyway, her body lunging, her spear thrusting out. "Leave me alone!"
Fenris weaved out of the way, body twisting like a dancer's as he advanced, making Merrill leap back. "No." He moved closer, the Fade itself trying to clutch at him at Merrill's command, only for him to slip out of its grasp like nothing.
Merrill, in a panic, fell on her back even as she strained to call on the Fade. "We're your friends! We've done so much together! For you!" Earth, move, so many dead, so many buried, bury again, bury and move!
Above, Fenris appeared, blade raised. His face, eerily calm until then, suddenly turned into a snarl. "Done for me!?"
The world swallowed Merrill, earth and stone and mud sealing around her like a tomb, a tomb shaking as the other elf's sword struck the ground above her.
Move, move the flesh, remember worms, move for them, move for a larger worm, move before the flesh, move with the flesh. Energies coursed around her, the energies pulling at each grain, at each rock...making them move aside before her, move in after her, move her.
There was no air though.
Merrill, guiding the energies, gasped for oxygen as the ground spat her out like a discarded bone. Rolling onto her feet, Merrill watched Fenris spin, momentarily confused, his teeth bared in a snarl. "You gave me coin I could get from anywhere else! You let rogue mages run wild! You let Danarius escape!" He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of her. "You let him escape!"
Merrill, shaking her head, knew not what to say.
A roar, and Fenris ran at her, blade raised.
Heat, heed me, cold, heed me, stone, storm! The Fade crackled, around her fingers and spear, weakening as Merrill's reserves ran low, but prodigious none the less.
The fireball exploded a few feet in front of Fenris, swallowing him whole...and he ran right through it, tattoo's blazing.
The torrent of ice, each a sharp razor of cold, rushed at him, and the elf leapt and spun, sword sending two shards flying wide as the rest dashed past his head.
A rock hurled at him, only for the pommel of his sword to beat it aside even as a second, a thin sliver, sliced a thin cut along her arm.
A trio of lightning-bolts hurtled forth, one blasting the elf square in the chest, only to crackle across his chest, seemingly harmless.
No! Merrill watched Fenris rush forward, sword raised high...and raised her spear to parry.
With a loud crack, the spear near shattered in two against the impact, but it held.
Above her, Fenris glowered down on her, his breath brushing her face.
Then he pushed the spear up, spun, and kicked, the momentum of the spin sending the foot smashing into Merrill's stomach, hurling her back.
She coughed, flying back, crashing onto her back, her whole body suddenly suffused with agony shooting from her stomach down into every limb.
No...
Gasping, clutching her stomach, Merrill found her vision flickering, the pain in her body turning to another pain, a worse one.
No, nonononononono...
Ahead, she could see Fenris' legs, see him move forward, slowly, casually. "Don't worry, I'll make it quick."
Her body, full of agony, twitched, a cold spreading through her limbs, her thoughts narrowing into a single thought.
Nononononononononononono!
Then, a second pair of legs appeared, bare, dark, familiar. "You don't touch her."
A screech of metal against metal, dust stirring as legs moved left and right, seemingly dancing, intricate circles drawing around each other as blade met blade, again and again.
It didn't matter.
Nononononononononononono!
Dust, stones, curses, sweat...and then blood.
Nononononononononononono!
"Merrill?" Legs, again, moving closer. "Merrill!?" Rushing, running to her. "Merrill!?"
Nononononononononononono!
The legs kneeling, hands soft, brushing across her, frantic, in a panic. "Merrill!? Maker, no, you're...Andraste's tits, Merrill!?" Holding her face, trying to lift her up. "Merrill, talk to me!"
Nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono...
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the little tin men...