"My home was taken apart yesterday, said they 'needed more stones'."

"Shit, man, I'm sorry." All around, people muttered agreements.

"I pointed out that bloody empty warehouse across the market, that they could take that, but nope, got to take the one closest to their fucking siege lines, can't have templars sweat more than necessary, you see. Now my family is hiding in Darktown, like it wasn't packed enough there already."

Again, mutters in agreement, bitter, but too tired for anger.

Sitting in a corner of the Hanged Man, back to the wall, Donnic watched it all with weary eyes, he'd seen it all before, dayafter day, it was the same grumblings. Suppose I should be happy the rioting and killing has stopped.

The reason was simple, people were too tired to riot, too lost for hope. What food remained in the city was barely enough to keep the people fed, everyone was rationing to the point that their strength was waning...and so all that was left to do was to consume the one thing the templars hadn't taken...the beer.

So people sought the taverns and bars, they drank and listed grievances all day, for there was no running out of them. By Andraste, this is depressing.

Of course, this time it would be different, Donnic had known it the moment he'd seen the pair, the two appearing as if by magic when they should have been stuck in the Circle Tower. Now the short and stout fellow was sitting on a stack of barrels so he could look over the crowd of people, the mug of ale by his side surprisingly going untouched as he eyed the gathered throng with clever eyes. "Yeah, the templars sure have screwed us, huh?"

Donnic found his hackles rising at the words, he'd served long enough in the guard to recognise an instigator, and friend or no, Varric's words were just the kind to rekindle the fire into people's hearts and cause yet more unrest.

Varric didn't seem to notice the former guardsman's glare as he continued, looking over the crowd of curious people. "I must say, it's a very curious way to run a city, demolishing it bit by bit and letting the people starve..."

There were growls of agreement throughout the tavern.

But also dissent. "It's the bloody siege's fault."

"Nothing would have happened if Hawke hadn't started fucking with Meredith."

"Or fucking the blood-mage."

"Ha!"

"His pet mages blew up several city blocks, it's no joke, people."

Varric, unsurprisingly, wasn't phased with the any but whole-hearted agreement. "Last I checked, the mages responsible got burnt on the stake..."

"Good!"

"Bloody assholes, the lot of them."

"Finally Meredith did something right."

"...and one right doesn't make up for hundreds of wrongs." Varric continued, theatrically shaking his head with a sigh. "Tell me, why did Garrett take over the Circle Tower?"

All around, silence suddenly reigned, people exchanging puzzled gazes.

Damn you, Varric. Donnic began to rise, realising the dwarf was about to turn it around...only to sink back down when a voice softly spoke out to him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Grunting in annoyance with his own compliance, Donnic turned to glare at the second of the pair as she sat down across the table. "He's trying to incite unrest, damn it, I have to stop him."

"Why?" Leaning back in her chair, Isabela arched an eyebrow. "You're not in the guard anymore, it seems."

Behind her, Varric had everyone's attention. "Because Meredith was destroying the whole city, not like now, I grant, but she was...you remember what it was like, right?"

Donnic, turning his glare back to Isabela, shook his head. "He might set fire to the whole city, speaking like that."

"Sometimes, a little fire is necessary." Isabela replied with a surprising chill in her voice, eyes distant. When they came back to the present, they narrowed. "Meredith deserves what is coming to her."

"Perhaps, but these people don't deserve to be pawns in some game of Garrett's to be sacrificed at his leisure." Donnic growled back. "They've suffered enough."

"And they'll suffer more if nothing is done." Isabela replied, something in the way she said it reminding Donnic of Garrett.

Damn it, friend of Aveline's or not. "I'm going up there, Isabela, you can't stop me."

Isabela's eyes, surprisingly cold for such an emotional person, twinkled. "Yes, I can."

Donnic stared at her in shock.

Meanwhile, Varric was still speaking. "The curfews, the random searches, the harassment, the arrests, the destruction of the city's administration...you all remember that, right? And you remember how Garrett and the nobles tried to keep things going none the less?"

More muted, not sure where the dwarf was going with his words, the crowd uneasily nodded, listening intently.

In their own corner, Donnic was glaring at the calm Isabela, his body tensing as he, under the table, hesitantly reached for the dagger in his belt...

Isabela cocked her head to the side, a sudden smile crossing her features. "Oh please. You wouldn't manage even if you tried. Besides, I loved Aveline and would hate to beat up her husband." She couldn't have known, yet somehow she did...and Donnic's hand dropped, clenching in helplessness.

"So that's it? You're just going to sit here and stop me from interfering while Varric creates a rebellion?" Donnic's face twisted into a grimace of disgust. "That's what Garrett instructed you, Miss Free-Spirit, to do, right?"

Isabela didn't rise to the bait. "Well, partly." Leaning forward she came to rest her chin on her hand as she eyed his dirty tunic. "I was also told to try and convince you to reform the Guard."

Donnic couldn't help it, he laughed.

Beyond, Varric went on without hesitation. Though while his eyes weren't showing conviction, the words smoothly left his lips. "So he took over the Tower, like a protest, a demonstration, a way to make Meredith calm down and listen...and wow, did he fail." There were a few chuckles at that. "But not due to his own actions, did anyone see it? Or have you thought about it, at least? How did Meredith get hold of those mages? The answer is simple, Garrett gave them to her, they weren't part of what he wanted." Again, he paused, letting his gaze drop, as if sad. "Yet...the battle continues, and we all suffer as a result."

Someone in the crowd couldn't keep herself from speaking up. "Suffer? We're dying!"

"Yeah!"

"That's right!"

"My kid will die any day now, from a stinking flu. All the healers are off-limits in the templar camp!"

"My sons are just skin and bone..."

Varric ran with it, as Donnic knew he would. "And who's to blame for that? Hmm? The nobles and Garrett, our Champion, who tried to keep us fed for so long, only to now stay holed up in a Tower?"

"No!"

"I don't know, they're all assholes..."

"Hawke at least took care of us, his men weren't the ones who killed my brother for being a 'mage-lover'...what the hell kind of accusation is that anyway!? Where's the justice!?"

"Hawke was just!"

"Bullshit, he bought the courts!"

"But at least he had courts! Meredith executes people in the streets!"

The temper was rising in the tavern, making Donnic glare even harder at Isabela. "You're mad, reform the Guard? For yours and Garrett's sake? To help him spread the civil was onto the streets? Never. The Guard keep the peace, they don't pick sides and wage war on Templars. Again, I say, never."

"Look, I don't have Garrett's way with words, certainly not Varric's..." Isabela rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "...I could try speak about how Meredith's the great evil and unlawful and the greatest criminal Kirkwall has ever seen...Garrett certainly thought I would give that a go..."

Donnic snorted, as far as he was concerned, Meredith and Hawke were equally guilty of crimes against Kirkwall, and the fact that he still wasn't sure who'd killed Aveline burned deep in his soul still.

"..but I won't do that." Isabela finished, a cold twinkle in her eyes. "Instead I'm going to tell you this; Varric will cause a big rebellion, Garrett will have his battle with Meredith...and if you want to be the Guardsman that Aveline loved, the one protecting the people...well then you just have to help out." She shrugged. "Or you don't, and you'll watch the people you'd sworn to protect get cut down, your choice, really."

Donnic, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw ached, glared at the woman as she leaned back in her seat.

Varric, smooth as silk, was still speaking. "Meredith does indeed do that. She kills people if there's even a suspicion of a crime with them, she takes their food, she takes their homes, she stops you all from leaving...why is that, do you think? Once she has hacked down Hawke and the nobles and mages...who do you think she'll turn her attention to next? So many...mage-friendly people out there, or 'sympathisers'...they'll need rooting out..."

The heat in the tavern dropped, turning to a chill as people stared at one another in horror.

Finally, a lone woman spoke up. "...shit, my brother's friend was a mage."

Another. "My sister is in Reinhart's guard, I have a cousin among the servants...

A man, swallowing. "I had a sister made Tranquil, had to be done, I'd say, yeah, but...oh fuck..."

"My mother washes Hawke's linens."

"I was a trader for Hawke."

"My farm's owned by Reinhart."

"I worked in the Bone Pit..."

Silence.

Then a man, large of girth and with a bristling beard, as well as his bulging muscles, the build of a blacksmith. "Well, shit, I'm not sitting here, waiting to be executed!"

Maker, damn it! Donnic moved to rise...and Isabela's foot came up to the edge of the table between them, shoving it hard into his gut and driving him back into his seat. "Told you, won't allow that, friend." She sighed as Donnic shot her another glare. "Look, I'm not telling you what to do, go hide in a hole if you so wish, but...just take Garrett's offer into consideration. He says the fighting will soon come to a close, that one side or the other will be crushed and routed. Now, if that happens to our side...well then the Templars at all those gates will cut down all who flee, the people." Isabela eased her foot off the table, allowing Donnic some air once more. "He'd like it if you took them back, for the people's sake."

Rubbing his sore stomach, Donnic glared at the woman. "And if it's the Templars that flee?"

Isabela's smile was sad. "Then...well...for the people's sake, the news of what has happened needs to be suppressed for as long as possible."

"You mean he wants me to kill Templars, then possibly kill more who're fleeing for their lives." Donnic felt his bile rise. This is...what the hell happened to the world?

Isabela shrugged, grimacing with a hint of sympathy. "Not an easy choice, I admit. But...well...what happens if it's not the Templars who flee?" Slaughter...Maker, Hawke, you monster... "As I said, your decision."

The tavern's temperature had risen once more, turning blazing hot. "Damn right! I'm not hiding at home while waiting for Templars to come and gut me!"

"She doesn't care about us! Only her damn mages! She thinks we're all in on it!"

"She's killing us, starving us, and we're sitting here doing nothing!"

"Maker, damn her! Brother, get my axe!"

"Hey, you're not going alone! I'm coming with you! Let's show that bitch the people of Kirkwall aren't to be messed with!"

"I'm coming too!"

"And me!"

"And I!"

"Time for revenge!"

"You're bloody right, time for justice!"

"Yes, justice!"

"Kill them all!"

Still sitting atop his barrels, but now forgotten as the people were working themselves into a frenzy, Varric looked sad as he watched what he had done.

Isabela, sighing, gave Donnic a significant look. "Better decide quickly though."

Damn it...

8

8

8

It is time.

Garrett, standing with his hands behind his back, gazed down upon the city.

It was empty, dark...all save near the walls surrounding the Circle Tower. There, templar corpses still lay strewn across the way to the Tower, like little dots of silver strewn across dark cobbles. Then, there was the wall, the many breaches reinforced by palisades and sharpened stakes, all pointing in towards the besieged. Beyond, the Templars were at full alert, a ring of silver and steel and purple cloaks, disciplined regiments marching to and fro as the last orders were given.

Most of the templars were gathered around the breaches in the walls, facing the Tower, a new wall, made of steel-clad shields. Archers were placed atop wooden Towers. Troops of templars carrying pikes stood facing the entrance in the palisades, their flanks guarded by templars with spears and swords at the ready.

Many templars were facing outwards though, as the besiegers had become the besieged. Formations of templars, mostly three ranks deep, stood facing every street leading to the siege-lines. Spears levelled, shields up, they were each facing a sea of dark and motley colours, a horde unlike any Garrett had ever seen.

The city of Kirkwall in arms. Varric had succeeded beyond expectations, either that or people had truly been angry enough to start with...but to Garrett, it seemed like every civilian in the city had turned up with a weapon in hand.

There was no fighting, not yet, but it was in the air, loud chanting rising in the air as the mob worked itself into a frenzy, shouting curses and insults at the lines of silent templars.

It was only a matter of time before blows would be exchanged, no matter what Garrett did.

He didn't intend to remain a spectator, however.

Turning, he regarded the alchemist before him, a wiry old man with eyes wide as saucers as he met Garrett's gaze. "Ready the bombs, then come down and join us."

Somehow, the man's eyes turned even larger, as if he'd never expected the order to actually come...but then he turned and scuttled off with surprising speed, eager to get away from the intimidating Champion.

Garrett, casting a final glance at the city below, his city, began his descent.

Mid-way down, he passed the door. Within, Merrill was still in bed, still in pain, still recovering.

Waiting for him, probably.

Garrett, his heart aching with pain, his chest bursting with dark anger, couldn't bring himself to stop, to say some final words of comfort.

If he did, he knew he might not go through with what he had planned, and by now, it was too late to back off.

So he walked past, his eyes narrow and dark, feeling like a storm-cloud was following him, growing more foreboding by the moment.

It hurt.

Yet, it was too late, too late for words, too late for forgiveness or love, too late for anything but hate and the end.

All too soon, he appeared on the bottom floor, in the great chamber where his nobles, his soldiers, his mages, all stood ready, waiting for him, depending on him. Garrett, having appeared atop the stairs leading down to the main floor, stopped, looking them over.

Everywhere, there were frightened, but also hopeful, faces, all looking at him with fear, but also adoration, trust.

Yet there was no friendly face.

No Maric, no Varric, no Merrill, no Isabela, no Aveline, no Bethany, no mother...

Garrett, surrounded by his supporters, stood alone.

It hurt.

Yet Garrett, having embraced the pain and turning it into something more useful, didn't let it do anything but drive him to speak, to keep his voice clear and loud, to have it carry across the chamber.

"Nobles, soldiers, mages...friends, let me speak to you all in turn, for you all deserve it."

No one spoke as he paused, a shuffle of feet was all that could be heard.

"Nobles...I thank you for your great service, for your faith in me, for becoming all I've ever hoped of this city's elite. Meredith has taken so much from us, only to bond us closer, she has destroyed our homes, taken our wealth, ruined us...but let me tell you now, she has not broken us, not as we're about to break her." Garrett bared his teeth. "We will today show her that Kirkwall is ours, not hers."

There was no answer from the few nobles that remained, but they nodded, caught in the moment, their worn swords, once more for show than use, raised in silent salute and agreement.

"Soldiers...you have gone beyond what's expected of you, you were mercenaries, soldiers for pay...now you fight for us as brothers. I value each and every single one of you as highly as I do a noble or mage, for you have shown yourselves willing to lay down your lives, not just for coin, but for me, for what we fight for, and what more can one ask of a brother or sister than that?" Garrett nodded to himself. "You have fought with me, bled with me, so it is no hyperbole when I say that you are, indeed, family." He swallowed, meeting as many gazes as he could. "Thank you."

A sound of swords thumping against shields, fists hitting breastplates, rose from the soldiers, all raising their heads higher as they grimly gave voice to their approval.

"Mages...you were drawn into this in a way none could have expected, and to which you were the least equipped to handle. Yet you rose to the occasion, your aid, both with fire and ice as well as healing and protection...many of us would not be here today if not for you. I would not be here if not for you. You have shown yourselves not only capable, but also disproved every assumption and prejudice held against you. There is not one left here that thinks anything but the best of you." Men and women, all across the room, nodded in agreement. "You are not Circle mages, or apostates, or maleficar...you have shown yourselves as our friends, our people...and we would die for any one of you."

The mages, though silent as the rest, looked around themselves in something akin to confusion...and found soldiers and nobles alike smile and nod at them...when they looked back to Garrett, they did so with their heads high and backs straight.

Garrett, lowering his head, took a shaky breath. "And last of all...for me.." Another breath, calmer. "All my life, I've searched for the smart way out, for keeping the peace, for keeping as many people as possible alive. I've haggled and discussed; diplomacy my weapon, even against those who refuse to speak with me, even against those who are anathema to compromise and rationality."

Silence, people waiting.

Slowly, Garrett raised his head, eyes flashing with rage. "But today, today I say...diplomacy ends. Meredith does not want discussion or compromise, she refuses to be rational...so be it." Garrett fastened his helmet as he began to walk down the stairs to the main floor. "Then there will be no terms, no deals, she wants a battle? She will have it." He drew his sword, raising his voice higher as he walked through a crowd of people parting before him, meeting the eyes of everyone he passed. "She wants death? She will have it. She wants a massacre? She will have it."

Then he was at the end of the room, facing the massive gap in the wall. Beyond, the Templars waited behind their palisades and shields.

Garrett raised his sword, pointing it at the enemy, eyes narrowing. "But it will not be our death, not a massacre of us!" He turned his head, looking back to his army. "Today, Meredith dies. Who's with me!?"

As one, the army roared back, fists raised.

"Good..." Lowering his visor, Garrett turned back to glare at the Templar line...and felt the ground shake as a muted boom travelled through the Tower.

It is time.

"Charge!"

8

8

8

Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the moments.