Cries of wounded and dying men rang out through the air as blades clashed and arrows flew. Siara did her best to block all of it out as she traded blows with enemies, darting in and out as she saw venatori, bandits, or red templars lower the guard. She used quick and decisive blows, striking where she knew she would do the most damage. The faster she could dispose of people, the faster their numbers would even out. They needed as much of a chance as they could get. Unfortunately, some of the more experienced of her enemies had spotted what she was doing and were actively getting in her way. All she could do was block and dodge as men and women singled her out, forcing her to engage with them rather than helping her comrades, doing her absolute best to get decisive, ending blows in where she could.

But on the bright side, at least they were distracted from men such as Adam. Siara held on to that knowledge as she focussed her energies on keeping her current opponent busy. He, or possibly she, was a red templar with large shards of lyrium jutting out of his shoulders. Tall, unbreaking, and with a look in their eyes that suggested they wanted nothing more than to rip her to pieces. Siara couldn't actually quite tell if they were a man or woman, all distinguishing features gone to the lyrium that now consumed them. Siara still disliked most templars, but the ones that were infected with red lyrium? She hated them even more, and she was grateful that there weren't more of them. All she could do in her current situation was count her blessings in that regard. The Venatori were bad enough to deal with, and bandits could be slippery little bastards. Having even this low number of red lyrium templars to battle was an unpleasant enough situation.

She skidded back, clutching her side as the templar threw her back, leaving her winded and clutching her side. She glared at them, every fibre of her being focusing on not collapsing as she struggled to breathe. She was uncertain if red templars could still feel emotion, but she could have sworn this one looked triumphant. It stepped towards her, its sword held ready at its side, and Siara prepared to throw herself out of the way.

That was when she heard it. A rallying cry above the sound of battle, and she felt the atmosphere around her shifting. One glance around at her soldiers told her everything she needed to know, and a relieved smile slipped onto her face. Reinforcements had arrived. She cocked her eyebrow at the red templar before her, straightening, her chin held high.

"Now you're fucked."

The templar narrowed their eyes at her, teeth gritted together as it readied to attack her, but Siara wasn't about to let the strike fall. She shot forward, blades ready, slicing at the smallest gap in the armour of her enemy. The templar collapsed to its knees, an angry bellow escaping its mouth, and Siara whirled around without a moment of hesitation. Her blades slashed across the exposed neck, blood spurting from the gaping wound. A moment later, the body fell forward. Another small victory, but Siara didn't have the time to celebrate it, her thoughts immediately moving to other things. She scanned the crowds, doing her best to take stock of their numbers, and relief once again flooded through her veins. The so-called bandits were actually outnumbered now - not as badly as Fort Greystone had been, but even so. She could tell that the bandits had worked it out, too, could see that a good number of them were trying to retreat. Clearly some of them valued their lives more than a few measly rations. Which meant that they actually stood a chance. Fort Greystone, and all its inhabitants, might just live through this.

Cullen stood looking over the now clearing battlefield. The invading forces had been routed and those that were still alive were fleeing back to wherever it was that they had come from. He would have to send a small force of his own after them later, ensuring that they weren't about to return. His men were already moving through the bodies of the fallen, checking friend and foe alike for survivors. Any enemy they found still living, they cleanly dispatched of. Any of their friends and comrades, they would do their best to administer first aid and motion for a healer. Solas was helping the mages and healers where he could, walking through the fallen to use his magic where needed. Everyone looked exhausted.

"You know, I really want to be mad at you for sending me on this assignment, but Maker, I'm just glad you got here in time."

He turned around at the voice, his eyes meeting Siara's. She looked exhausted, and she'd sounded like she was fighting to keep it from her voice. She also looked a complete mess, her hair escaping from the braid she usually kept it in, blood smeared over her armour. Despite all this, she had a grin on her face as she walked down the steps towards him. Cullen didn't know exactly how to feel for a moment, relief flooding through him as he closed the gap between them.

"'Nothing too bad,' you said. 'Sufficiently bo-'" she was cut off as Cullen pulled her into a hug, surprising them both. He felt her freeze for a moment, her whole body tensing before slowly relaxing once more. Then he felt her arms hesitantly wrap around him, her hands on his upper back. He just held her more tightly for a second before forcing himself to let her go and take a step back. He cleared his throat, making a conscious effort not to rub the back of his neck when he saw the look she was giving him. One eyebrow was half raised, though she didn't look unimpressed exactly. Just somewhat surprised.

"Where is Captain Wiggins?" he asked, speaking before Siara had the chance to say something smart arsed.

"In his study," she replied. "Haven't really seen him since the bandits showed up with reinforcements."

Cullen frowned.

"Do you think he's somehow involved?"

"No. I just think he's useless. That makes two things you were wrong about," she leaned her head to the side slightly and smiled at him innocently. Cullen scoffed slightly, shaking his head before returning to work mode.

"How about our casualties?"

"Could have been a lot worse. I haven't had much of a chance to discuss with our people, but it doesn't seem like we have too many dead. Injured, however, is another matter."

He nodded, looking around at their people. Most of them were now being tended to, at least.

"What about you?"

"Me?" Siara blinked at him in surprise.

"Yes, you," he turned back to her, a serious look on his face. "Any more injuries besides your arm?"

She frowned in confusion, then looked down at her arm as realisation dawned on her.

"I'd actually forgotten all about this," she muttered, flexing her fingers. "Healers here have got it basically healed. Needed them to, given we were about to be under attack. And aside from a couple of scrapes and bruises, I'm completely fine. Going to have aches all over in the morning, but I think most of us will."

That same rush of relief passed through him at her words, and Cullen felt himself relax a bit. She was okay.

"Who took charge of the situation if Captain Wiggins wasn't doing anything?" he asked, a small frown returning to his face. Siara pulled a face, shifting uncomfortably.

"Unfortunately, me."

Cullen looked at her in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up.

"You?"

"You think Dorian would have done a better job?"

"No, that wasn't what I was saying," he said hurriedly. "I'm just surprised, is all. You never really seemed like you wanted a leadership position."

"I didn't, and I don't. But someone had to step up or we never would have made it as long as we did."

"It looks like you did a good job of it."

"Not good enough," she muttered, her face growing dark. "We still lost plenty of good people, Cullen."

"Even the best leaders do, Siara," he told her gently, smiling at her sadly. She just scoffed, looking away.

"You better go talk with Wiggins," she said eventually. "Let him know he can come out of hiding."

Cullen nodded, looking past her to the building that towered over them. He definitely would have a word with Wiggins.