Estella, with Asala and Rilien in tow, scanned the crowd for Commander Lucien after the first dance had concluded. It was rather difficult trying to navigate; for as many people leaving the floor, there were just as many shuffling around or attempting to enter it for the canarie. Still, having the others with her did help, and they managed to get clear of the floor before they were drawn into the much more lively, much more couple-oriented second dance, for which she was grateful. They hardly had the time.
As he'd promised, Lucien was waiting for them, looking not nearly as weary as she felt. Estella supposed he had to be used to this sort of thing, though she'd wager that such events weren't usually this rife with underhanded activity, even in Orlais. If she was counting right, there were at least four separate murder plots—or plots that were close enough, in the case of Gaspard's mercenaries—in the works. All aimed at prominent people. If Zee, Romulus, and Leon could find that evidence, one of them would never begin, but the remaining two needed to be halted in progress, it seemed.
"Lucien," she said, the rest of the breath she'd used escaping as a sigh. "What's the plan?" She knew he meant to trigger whatever assassination attempt was to be made against him, but it wouldn't be a simple thing to spring it in such a way as to ensure his safety, to be certain.
He gave them all a warm smile, for all anyone could tell not concerned in the slightest. She knew he didn't take these things lightly, though: it wasn't as though assassins had never been able to touch those close to him. There was always that risk.
With a small flourish, Lucien held out his arm, an invitation if she'd ever seen one. "May I stand in for your escort for a little while?" he inquired, humor in his voice but a more solemn look in his eyes.
Estella nodded, looping her arm with his and letting her palm rest a few inches above his wrist. Over his shoulder, Lucien caught Rilien's eyes and nodded once.
The tranquil returned the gesture. Clearly, they'd spoken at some length about this—possibly between the time their group arrived back from the meeting with Kess and the dancing. Shifting his eyes to Asala, he folded his hands into his sleeves. “You are with me. Be silent and follow until I say otherwise." His tone was flat as ever, containing no hint of apprehension, irritation, or any emotion at all. With one last look at the two of them, he split off, departing the ballroom at an efficient, clipped pace.
With the two of them gone, Lucien slowly walked himself and Estella out of the ballroom, pausing occasionally to speak to some courtiers she didn't recognize or know all that well. His smile was natural, his replies quick and witty, his humor gentle. It was almost the same easy way in which he spoke to the common citizens of Halamshiral or Val Royeaux or any other place they'd ever been together, though through their contact she could feel that he wasn't quite as relaxed, even if nothing in his body language or voice gave it away for a second. She wondered if it was just the circumstances of this one night or the setting in general.
He seemed so... content, with the way his life was right now. Like he really belonged in exactly the place he occupied. With the glaring exception of Sophia's absence, Estella wasn't sure he'd ever felt better about what he did and how he did it. Her certainty that he should be Emperor, so solid and unshakable earlier, began to wither. Could she really ask him to do that? Could anyone? Wasn't rulership of a whole country something that should only be given to someone who was not only competent to do it, but also willing?
She swallowed; the crisp air of nighttime hit her face unexpectedly. She hadn't realized they'd passed outside, into the gardens. While the location was technically off-limits, she couldn't imagine anyone daring to presume to tell him where to go. It made sense, too, to try and make this happen somewhere remote, where there wouldn't be collateral damage. Those following Gaspard wouldn't have a choice of locations, but this group did, at least.
"Something on your mind?" Lucien angled his head to look down at her profile. His pace was unhurried; they turned right at the obvious juncture and headed further in, passing under a white-painted wood trellis, draped in winter-barren vines of some sort. Her breath clouded in the air in front of her.
Estella was conscious of the weight of the dagger in her sleeve, the other pressed against the side of her calf, slid into her boot and chafing a bit uncomfortably where her sock had fallen down too far. She was also aware of the flow of the magic under her skin, the way it almost hummed in her veins, reacting to her tension and the knowledge that she might at any moment have to fight for her life, and the life of someone who mattered deeply to her. She bit her lip.
"I... Lucien," she started uncertainly, pitching her voice low in hopes that anyone listening in might not overhear. "How do you feel about—it's just, the way this night is going, we might, intentionally or not, be finding evidence that would ruin everyone in front of you in line for... you know." She couldn't quite bring herself to say it, almost as if the thought was too important for her silly words.
But he didn't seem to have the same reservations. "The throne?" he finished, voice just as soft. When she nodded, he pushed a heavy breath from his nose. "It did occur to me, you know. That my aunt and her cousin might have plotted themselves into their respective corners. That their desperation might make them reckless enough to be discovered." His tone sounded ambivalent between resignation and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Reticence, maybe.
Estella looked down at her feet for a moment, then raised her eyes. Trailing her free hand over the top of a neatly-trimmed, waist-height hedge, she swallowed. "But... how do you feel about it? Really, I mean." She knew duty was important to him. Almost, but not quite, more important than anything else. Lucien would always do his duty. Anyone could rely on that just as much as they could rely on the sunrise every morning. But she wondered if maybe...
"Terrified." His answer was immediate, without hesitation, and slightly wry.
Estella was so surprised she almost stopped walking, her step hitching awkwardly against the ground. In one way, she supposed it shouldn't shock her: well as she regarded him, the Commander was still a mortal man. She knew he had to fear some things. And perhaps that much responsibility was something to be afraid of. She knew hers, little as it was in comparison, regularly terrified her.
But that was just it. She hadn't expected his fears to be so much like hers. She was a much more fallible person, after all.
He chuckled under his breath at the wide-eyed expression on her face. "I'm flattered if I seem so fearless to you," he said teasingly, a half-smile pulling at his mouth. "But I assure you the opposite is true. I'm afraid of so many things." He tucked his arm in hers a little nearer to his body, adjusting so they were walking a bit closer.
She squeezed his arm through his sleeve. "Me too," she admitted, pursing her lips. That much was probably obvious. "All the time."
"And that gives me hope," he replied, smile growing when she blinked at him in confusion. "It just goes to show that fear isn't enough to prevent someone from accomplishing great things. I need the reminder, occasionally."
That was... Estella wasn't really sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, he didn't seem to require one.
"I never expected to be Emperor, you know," he continued, pausing a moment in front of a bed of white lilies. There was a nostalgic look on his face, like he was remembering something quite distant, but happy. "I was technically Crown Prince when I was born, but it was always expected that Celene would eventually have children of her own that would displace me. So I was raised with the understanding that I would be a Lord-General, as my father is. As my family have been for... quite a long time now." Estella had read enough history books to know that the Drakons had once been the imperial blood, before the Valmonts usurped them. Few since had had the temperament to resent that, and the ones that did usually met swift ends.
The fact that the two families had united was unprecedented and quite scandalous, actually. But Celene's position at the time had been very secure, and so no one had much minded that her younger sister had married Ser Guillaume.
"But as time wore on... I think everyone caught onto the fact that she didn't plan on it. In a way, it would have been worse for her if she did. Those dissatisfied with her could have easily argued that her heir would have been a better choice. But when the other options were myself and Gaspard, well... that was a much less attractive route than simply finding other solutions to their disagreements with her." Shaking his head, he stepped away from the flowerbed and turned them inwards once again.
Estella supposed she could see that. "But surely by the time you were exiled, they would have known?"
He nodded slowly. "I used to think she was showing me mercy, by doing that. That was a bit naïve of me. It was all much too convenient for her, as I was coming to an age where some had started to think a young, malleable Emperor might be better than an older, more politically-astute Empress."
"You think she...?" It was difficult to imagine, but much less so after her actions in Julien's case. After her actions towards the Alienage. "She rescinded, though, didn't she?"
"She did." Lucien sighed. "I want to believe she was truly moved by the evidence, but the cynical side of me says she did it because she had no choice." His lips thinned. "I think what frightens me most of all about the possibility of deposing her is that part of me wants it. Part of me always has. Used to be that was what Desire demons showed me, believe it or not. The crown, on my own head."
Estella had to admit she didn't know what that was like. Her own desires had always been much more... ordinary. Love, acceptance. A life full of warmth and the simple kinds of happiness and friends to share it with. A big library full of books. That sort of thing.
"I don't think it's bad, to have ambitions like that," she said. Maker knew Cyrus always had. Archon, he'd wanted to be. But as far as she was concerned, as long as the ambition was guided by the right reasons, there was nothing inherently wicked in being ambitious. "I think if you were Emperor, you could change the world. Maybe not as fast as you'd like, but still."
"I'd like to think the same. Perhaps we'll know soon enough. I've no desire to lie to obtain such a position, but... if the truth forces things that way, then so be it." No doubt his feelings on the matter were complex. If only part of him wanted it, it stood to reason that part of him didn't. But he at least seemed willing to accept the possibility.
It was a weight off her shoulders, anyway.
She was parting her lips to respond when there was a glint in the periphery of her vision. "Get down!" The magic surged in her body before she was fully prepared for it; Estella dragged Lucien to the ground with her without really even deciding to do so. An arrow sliced through the air overhead; it embedded into the ground several feet away. Most likely it had been aimed for the back of Lucien's neck.
He was on his feet again just as quickly as she was, a short dagger in his hand. Estella shrugged her own knife from her sleeve as well, discarding the sheath on the ground and shifting it into her left. The mark on her right crackled and hissed where she fed magic into it, casting a green pall on the side of her skirt.
Straining her ears, she hissed softly. She could hear the assassin drawing again. "There," she pointed at a spot slightly further in and up—it would appear the assassin had climbed a centralized marble fountain and was attacking from vantage. This far away, she couldn't identify who it was, though the white face makeup of a harlequin was just barely visible now that she knew where to look.
The second arrow loosed.
The hallmark luminescence of Asala's barrier sprang to life in front of them before the arrow could reach, leaving it clattering harmless to the ground in front of them. The barrier remained alive to their front, waiting for another one should it come.
The next arrow to hit the barrier did so with a resounding bang—something alchemical perhaps. The magic cracked, but held. Still, another one and it might not. Whomever they were dealing with was clearly formidable. Estella stepped out from behind the shield and thrust out a hand. A sphere of flames, small but hardier than her former attempts at the same, formed at her palm and then shot forward, arcing through the air with a flash of light and heat.
It hit where she'd aimed, forcing the attacker to abandon their vantage and jump backwards, landing on the ground. They—she, Estella thought, though she couldn't be sure—dropped the bow and drew two wicked-looking knives.
She and Lucien charged together.
Rilien, however, came in from behind, and it was he who was closest. Their assailant had very sharp instincts; a blow that would have simply punched into her spinal cord from behind caught her shoulder instead, and though she hissed with pain, it didn't seem to affect her overmuch, from the way she was immediately able to twist out of the way of his second knife and block with one of her own. There was something almost unnaturally swift about her movements, as though they weren't quite human, or had been enhanced in some way not so different from Estella's magic. Or what it could be, with a lot more work.
But to his credit, Rilien kept up quite well, apparently able to anticipate where she would aim and act accordingly, in that particularly-efficient way he had that cut out all the extraneous motion other people used instinctively. A particularly close dodge sliced a chunk of snowy hair from his head, not far from the tip of one pointed ear. Then Estella caught the sound of shattering glass, and a dark smoke cloud billowed over them both, erasing them from view.
“She is moving." Rilien's words were loud enough to serve as warning—the assassin had not stayed to engage him, meaning she could reappear almost anywhere. They'd need to stay alert.
Estella and Lucien immediately stopped, turning so they were back-to-back. Not the best position, being out in the open like this, but vastly preferable to exposing their vulnerable sides to an attack from the shadows. It was quite dim out here, actually; though her night vision wasn't bad, it was probably more of an advantage for their foe than themselves.
"Asala, can we get a light? And keep a barrier around yourself!" Estella knew she wasn't the most mobile of fighters, and it was probably better that she stay wherever Rilien had seen fit to hide her, and enclosed herself in as much protection as possible, in case the assassin found her before the fight was over.
Off to their side somewhere, a ball of magelight rose into the air and stopped some distance above them, enough to cast enough light to let them see what the were doing.
In the sudden brightness, Lucien seemed to catch sight of something. "Your three, Estella."
She turned in just enough time to raise her dagger to parry a wild lunge from the assassin. This close, she recognized her face. "Lady Florianne." It appeared that Aurelie's warning had been quite well-placed after all. Though she was Gaspard's sister, Florianne had always been Celene's ally above all else. Her right hand, even.
Estella hadn't known she was also a harlequin, however. Her eyes shone with a light not quite ordinary, probably the effects of... whatever she'd dosed herself with to increase her speed and strength this much. Even amplified by her magic, Estella found herself struggling to divert the knife. But she angled it well enough that the blade went skidding off her own, and Lucien stepped in, forcing Florianne back before she could try to stab with the off-hand blade.
"Please, cousin. Your advantage is gone. Surrender." He grabbed for her with his free hand, but she ducked under just in time, hurling another vial for the ground. That one exploded on impact, taking Estella off her feet and onto the ground. Lucien staggered backwards several uncontrolled steps.
Florianne smiled, if that was what the expression could be called. It looked more like a grimace than anything. "No, Lucien. Not now, when everything I have ever wanted is almost mine."
"It's you," Estella said, the realization dawning on her all at once. She clambered to her feet, wreathing herself in the green light of the mark as she did. "You're Corypheus's agent."
Florianne studied the light for just a moment. "And you are one of the pretenders, who have stolen his power," she replied. "Such an opportunity has fallen into my lap. If I bring him both your heads, Thedas will be mine to rule."
The second-oldest motive in history: power. Estella wished she were surprised.
Before any of them could respond to that, Rilien moved in from behind again, and Florianne turned away from the recovering two to engage him. Their knives flashed in the dark, metal clanging on metal with the occasional screech as they had to be dragged away from one another. As ever, Rilien's face betrayed nothing. His feet were placed exactly where he wanted them to go, and though all his maneuvers were near things, they also all did what they were meant to. Florianne seemed to be tiring a bit, but just when it looked like she was about to slip up, she recovered swiftly, renewing the fight with vigor.
They had to help Rilien, but it was difficult when Florianne just slipped away every time they tried to close her in. But Estella could help with that. "Commander, go in from this side," she said, feeling the magic of the mark shift as she prepared to move. "I'll trap her in from the other one."
Lucien didn't ask questions, he just accepted her words at face value and nodded. "At your word, then."
"Now!" Estella stepped forward, landing almost near the edge of the fountain and whirling around as quickly as she could, reaching Florianne at the same time Lucien did. Hemmed in on three sides, she pulled another smoke flask from her belt and threw it, shattering it on the ground behind Lucien.
They needed to keep pressuring her; all this cat-and-mouse was getting them nowhere fast. In order to do that, they needed to contain the smoke.
Unsure how much Asala could see from where she was, Estella called her name. "Set a dome behind Lucien, about three feet!"
Apparently, she'd been able to see enough, as a bubble materialized around the smoke completely.
The lack of an advantage she'd clearly expected gave Florianne pause for a moment, and a moment was all they needed. Lucien's knife's hilt cracked over the back of her head, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Estella let the green light fade from around herself. "Nice work," Lucien said, offering her a smile. "That's quite the impressive feat." He raised his voice. "You as well, Asala. You can come out now."
He exhaled a deep sigh. "And then I suppose we can bring her back to the palace. She's got quite a lot to answer for."
As he'd promised, Lucien was waiting for them, looking not nearly as weary as she felt. Estella supposed he had to be used to this sort of thing, though she'd wager that such events weren't usually this rife with underhanded activity, even in Orlais. If she was counting right, there were at least four separate murder plots—or plots that were close enough, in the case of Gaspard's mercenaries—in the works. All aimed at prominent people. If Zee, Romulus, and Leon could find that evidence, one of them would never begin, but the remaining two needed to be halted in progress, it seemed.
"Lucien," she said, the rest of the breath she'd used escaping as a sigh. "What's the plan?" She knew he meant to trigger whatever assassination attempt was to be made against him, but it wouldn't be a simple thing to spring it in such a way as to ensure his safety, to be certain.
He gave them all a warm smile, for all anyone could tell not concerned in the slightest. She knew he didn't take these things lightly, though: it wasn't as though assassins had never been able to touch those close to him. There was always that risk.
With a small flourish, Lucien held out his arm, an invitation if she'd ever seen one. "May I stand in for your escort for a little while?" he inquired, humor in his voice but a more solemn look in his eyes.
Estella nodded, looping her arm with his and letting her palm rest a few inches above his wrist. Over his shoulder, Lucien caught Rilien's eyes and nodded once.
The tranquil returned the gesture. Clearly, they'd spoken at some length about this—possibly between the time their group arrived back from the meeting with Kess and the dancing. Shifting his eyes to Asala, he folded his hands into his sleeves. “You are with me. Be silent and follow until I say otherwise." His tone was flat as ever, containing no hint of apprehension, irritation, or any emotion at all. With one last look at the two of them, he split off, departing the ballroom at an efficient, clipped pace.
With the two of them gone, Lucien slowly walked himself and Estella out of the ballroom, pausing occasionally to speak to some courtiers she didn't recognize or know all that well. His smile was natural, his replies quick and witty, his humor gentle. It was almost the same easy way in which he spoke to the common citizens of Halamshiral or Val Royeaux or any other place they'd ever been together, though through their contact she could feel that he wasn't quite as relaxed, even if nothing in his body language or voice gave it away for a second. She wondered if it was just the circumstances of this one night or the setting in general.
He seemed so... content, with the way his life was right now. Like he really belonged in exactly the place he occupied. With the glaring exception of Sophia's absence, Estella wasn't sure he'd ever felt better about what he did and how he did it. Her certainty that he should be Emperor, so solid and unshakable earlier, began to wither. Could she really ask him to do that? Could anyone? Wasn't rulership of a whole country something that should only be given to someone who was not only competent to do it, but also willing?
She swallowed; the crisp air of nighttime hit her face unexpectedly. She hadn't realized they'd passed outside, into the gardens. While the location was technically off-limits, she couldn't imagine anyone daring to presume to tell him where to go. It made sense, too, to try and make this happen somewhere remote, where there wouldn't be collateral damage. Those following Gaspard wouldn't have a choice of locations, but this group did, at least.
"Something on your mind?" Lucien angled his head to look down at her profile. His pace was unhurried; they turned right at the obvious juncture and headed further in, passing under a white-painted wood trellis, draped in winter-barren vines of some sort. Her breath clouded in the air in front of her.
Estella was conscious of the weight of the dagger in her sleeve, the other pressed against the side of her calf, slid into her boot and chafing a bit uncomfortably where her sock had fallen down too far. She was also aware of the flow of the magic under her skin, the way it almost hummed in her veins, reacting to her tension and the knowledge that she might at any moment have to fight for her life, and the life of someone who mattered deeply to her. She bit her lip.
"I... Lucien," she started uncertainly, pitching her voice low in hopes that anyone listening in might not overhear. "How do you feel about—it's just, the way this night is going, we might, intentionally or not, be finding evidence that would ruin everyone in front of you in line for... you know." She couldn't quite bring herself to say it, almost as if the thought was too important for her silly words.
But he didn't seem to have the same reservations. "The throne?" he finished, voice just as soft. When she nodded, he pushed a heavy breath from his nose. "It did occur to me, you know. That my aunt and her cousin might have plotted themselves into their respective corners. That their desperation might make them reckless enough to be discovered." His tone sounded ambivalent between resignation and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Reticence, maybe.
Estella looked down at her feet for a moment, then raised her eyes. Trailing her free hand over the top of a neatly-trimmed, waist-height hedge, she swallowed. "But... how do you feel about it? Really, I mean." She knew duty was important to him. Almost, but not quite, more important than anything else. Lucien would always do his duty. Anyone could rely on that just as much as they could rely on the sunrise every morning. But she wondered if maybe...
"Terrified." His answer was immediate, without hesitation, and slightly wry.
Estella was so surprised she almost stopped walking, her step hitching awkwardly against the ground. In one way, she supposed it shouldn't shock her: well as she regarded him, the Commander was still a mortal man. She knew he had to fear some things. And perhaps that much responsibility was something to be afraid of. She knew hers, little as it was in comparison, regularly terrified her.
But that was just it. She hadn't expected his fears to be so much like hers. She was a much more fallible person, after all.
He chuckled under his breath at the wide-eyed expression on her face. "I'm flattered if I seem so fearless to you," he said teasingly, a half-smile pulling at his mouth. "But I assure you the opposite is true. I'm afraid of so many things." He tucked his arm in hers a little nearer to his body, adjusting so they were walking a bit closer.
She squeezed his arm through his sleeve. "Me too," she admitted, pursing her lips. That much was probably obvious. "All the time."
"And that gives me hope," he replied, smile growing when she blinked at him in confusion. "It just goes to show that fear isn't enough to prevent someone from accomplishing great things. I need the reminder, occasionally."
That was... Estella wasn't really sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, he didn't seem to require one.
"I never expected to be Emperor, you know," he continued, pausing a moment in front of a bed of white lilies. There was a nostalgic look on his face, like he was remembering something quite distant, but happy. "I was technically Crown Prince when I was born, but it was always expected that Celene would eventually have children of her own that would displace me. So I was raised with the understanding that I would be a Lord-General, as my father is. As my family have been for... quite a long time now." Estella had read enough history books to know that the Drakons had once been the imperial blood, before the Valmonts usurped them. Few since had had the temperament to resent that, and the ones that did usually met swift ends.
The fact that the two families had united was unprecedented and quite scandalous, actually. But Celene's position at the time had been very secure, and so no one had much minded that her younger sister had married Ser Guillaume.
"But as time wore on... I think everyone caught onto the fact that she didn't plan on it. In a way, it would have been worse for her if she did. Those dissatisfied with her could have easily argued that her heir would have been a better choice. But when the other options were myself and Gaspard, well... that was a much less attractive route than simply finding other solutions to their disagreements with her." Shaking his head, he stepped away from the flowerbed and turned them inwards once again.
Estella supposed she could see that. "But surely by the time you were exiled, they would have known?"
He nodded slowly. "I used to think she was showing me mercy, by doing that. That was a bit naïve of me. It was all much too convenient for her, as I was coming to an age where some had started to think a young, malleable Emperor might be better than an older, more politically-astute Empress."
"You think she...?" It was difficult to imagine, but much less so after her actions in Julien's case. After her actions towards the Alienage. "She rescinded, though, didn't she?"
"She did." Lucien sighed. "I want to believe she was truly moved by the evidence, but the cynical side of me says she did it because she had no choice." His lips thinned. "I think what frightens me most of all about the possibility of deposing her is that part of me wants it. Part of me always has. Used to be that was what Desire demons showed me, believe it or not. The crown, on my own head."
Estella had to admit she didn't know what that was like. Her own desires had always been much more... ordinary. Love, acceptance. A life full of warmth and the simple kinds of happiness and friends to share it with. A big library full of books. That sort of thing.
"I don't think it's bad, to have ambitions like that," she said. Maker knew Cyrus always had. Archon, he'd wanted to be. But as far as she was concerned, as long as the ambition was guided by the right reasons, there was nothing inherently wicked in being ambitious. "I think if you were Emperor, you could change the world. Maybe not as fast as you'd like, but still."
"I'd like to think the same. Perhaps we'll know soon enough. I've no desire to lie to obtain such a position, but... if the truth forces things that way, then so be it." No doubt his feelings on the matter were complex. If only part of him wanted it, it stood to reason that part of him didn't. But he at least seemed willing to accept the possibility.
It was a weight off her shoulders, anyway.
She was parting her lips to respond when there was a glint in the periphery of her vision. "Get down!" The magic surged in her body before she was fully prepared for it; Estella dragged Lucien to the ground with her without really even deciding to do so. An arrow sliced through the air overhead; it embedded into the ground several feet away. Most likely it had been aimed for the back of Lucien's neck.
He was on his feet again just as quickly as she was, a short dagger in his hand. Estella shrugged her own knife from her sleeve as well, discarding the sheath on the ground and shifting it into her left. The mark on her right crackled and hissed where she fed magic into it, casting a green pall on the side of her skirt.
Straining her ears, she hissed softly. She could hear the assassin drawing again. "There," she pointed at a spot slightly further in and up—it would appear the assassin had climbed a centralized marble fountain and was attacking from vantage. This far away, she couldn't identify who it was, though the white face makeup of a harlequin was just barely visible now that she knew where to look.
The second arrow loosed.
The hallmark luminescence of Asala's barrier sprang to life in front of them before the arrow could reach, leaving it clattering harmless to the ground in front of them. The barrier remained alive to their front, waiting for another one should it come.
The next arrow to hit the barrier did so with a resounding bang—something alchemical perhaps. The magic cracked, but held. Still, another one and it might not. Whomever they were dealing with was clearly formidable. Estella stepped out from behind the shield and thrust out a hand. A sphere of flames, small but hardier than her former attempts at the same, formed at her palm and then shot forward, arcing through the air with a flash of light and heat.
It hit where she'd aimed, forcing the attacker to abandon their vantage and jump backwards, landing on the ground. They—she, Estella thought, though she couldn't be sure—dropped the bow and drew two wicked-looking knives.
She and Lucien charged together.
Rilien, however, came in from behind, and it was he who was closest. Their assailant had very sharp instincts; a blow that would have simply punched into her spinal cord from behind caught her shoulder instead, and though she hissed with pain, it didn't seem to affect her overmuch, from the way she was immediately able to twist out of the way of his second knife and block with one of her own. There was something almost unnaturally swift about her movements, as though they weren't quite human, or had been enhanced in some way not so different from Estella's magic. Or what it could be, with a lot more work.
But to his credit, Rilien kept up quite well, apparently able to anticipate where she would aim and act accordingly, in that particularly-efficient way he had that cut out all the extraneous motion other people used instinctively. A particularly close dodge sliced a chunk of snowy hair from his head, not far from the tip of one pointed ear. Then Estella caught the sound of shattering glass, and a dark smoke cloud billowed over them both, erasing them from view.
“She is moving." Rilien's words were loud enough to serve as warning—the assassin had not stayed to engage him, meaning she could reappear almost anywhere. They'd need to stay alert.
Estella and Lucien immediately stopped, turning so they were back-to-back. Not the best position, being out in the open like this, but vastly preferable to exposing their vulnerable sides to an attack from the shadows. It was quite dim out here, actually; though her night vision wasn't bad, it was probably more of an advantage for their foe than themselves.
"Asala, can we get a light? And keep a barrier around yourself!" Estella knew she wasn't the most mobile of fighters, and it was probably better that she stay wherever Rilien had seen fit to hide her, and enclosed herself in as much protection as possible, in case the assassin found her before the fight was over.
Off to their side somewhere, a ball of magelight rose into the air and stopped some distance above them, enough to cast enough light to let them see what the were doing.
In the sudden brightness, Lucien seemed to catch sight of something. "Your three, Estella."
She turned in just enough time to raise her dagger to parry a wild lunge from the assassin. This close, she recognized her face. "Lady Florianne." It appeared that Aurelie's warning had been quite well-placed after all. Though she was Gaspard's sister, Florianne had always been Celene's ally above all else. Her right hand, even.
Estella hadn't known she was also a harlequin, however. Her eyes shone with a light not quite ordinary, probably the effects of... whatever she'd dosed herself with to increase her speed and strength this much. Even amplified by her magic, Estella found herself struggling to divert the knife. But she angled it well enough that the blade went skidding off her own, and Lucien stepped in, forcing Florianne back before she could try to stab with the off-hand blade.
"Please, cousin. Your advantage is gone. Surrender." He grabbed for her with his free hand, but she ducked under just in time, hurling another vial for the ground. That one exploded on impact, taking Estella off her feet and onto the ground. Lucien staggered backwards several uncontrolled steps.
Florianne smiled, if that was what the expression could be called. It looked more like a grimace than anything. "No, Lucien. Not now, when everything I have ever wanted is almost mine."
"It's you," Estella said, the realization dawning on her all at once. She clambered to her feet, wreathing herself in the green light of the mark as she did. "You're Corypheus's agent."
Florianne studied the light for just a moment. "And you are one of the pretenders, who have stolen his power," she replied. "Such an opportunity has fallen into my lap. If I bring him both your heads, Thedas will be mine to rule."
The second-oldest motive in history: power. Estella wished she were surprised.
Before any of them could respond to that, Rilien moved in from behind again, and Florianne turned away from the recovering two to engage him. Their knives flashed in the dark, metal clanging on metal with the occasional screech as they had to be dragged away from one another. As ever, Rilien's face betrayed nothing. His feet were placed exactly where he wanted them to go, and though all his maneuvers were near things, they also all did what they were meant to. Florianne seemed to be tiring a bit, but just when it looked like she was about to slip up, she recovered swiftly, renewing the fight with vigor.
They had to help Rilien, but it was difficult when Florianne just slipped away every time they tried to close her in. But Estella could help with that. "Commander, go in from this side," she said, feeling the magic of the mark shift as she prepared to move. "I'll trap her in from the other one."
Lucien didn't ask questions, he just accepted her words at face value and nodded. "At your word, then."
"Now!" Estella stepped forward, landing almost near the edge of the fountain and whirling around as quickly as she could, reaching Florianne at the same time Lucien did. Hemmed in on three sides, she pulled another smoke flask from her belt and threw it, shattering it on the ground behind Lucien.
They needed to keep pressuring her; all this cat-and-mouse was getting them nowhere fast. In order to do that, they needed to contain the smoke.
Unsure how much Asala could see from where she was, Estella called her name. "Set a dome behind Lucien, about three feet!"
Apparently, she'd been able to see enough, as a bubble materialized around the smoke completely.
The lack of an advantage she'd clearly expected gave Florianne pause for a moment, and a moment was all they needed. Lucien's knife's hilt cracked over the back of her head, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Estella let the green light fade from around herself. "Nice work," Lucien said, offering her a smile. "That's quite the impressive feat." He raised his voice. "You as well, Asala. You can come out now."
He exhaled a deep sigh. "And then I suppose we can bring her back to the palace. She's got quite a lot to answer for."