The waters were quite calm; the boat rocked only a little beneath his feet, more like the gentle rise and fall of breath than anything best classed as turbulent. Lucien could not help but feel that it was a poor representation of how things really were in the moment. Here, behind the boom-chains, forced to sit uselessly on their hands, there was little activity, it was true. But the anxiousness and anticipation were palpable, as though a storm hung in the distant sky and they were inevitably headed for it.
No doubt those they'd sent to risk themselves to bring down the chains were right in the thick of that storm. He'd have preferred to be facing it with them than this. Closing his eyes a moment, he squeezed his arms where he gripped them in his hands, balance automatically adjusting for the subtle dip of the boat's prow as another small wave went by beneath him. When he opened them again, the chain was still there, of course, and Kirkwall still dark in the distance. Close enough to see, much too far to reach.
He reminded himself once more that patience was necessary; that no amount of restlessness would make the moment arrive any faster. It was unsurprising that such rational reassurance was no help at all, when everything in him pulled him towards the fight. Towards her. He grit his teeth so hard they nearly creaked under the force, and tried not to think about it in those terms. Tried not to think of what every second here might cost.
A futile effort. He'd have had more success forgetting his own name.
A gentle touch on his arm alerted him to Aurora's presence. She had briefed her mages as much as she could in preparation for the liberation of the city, and even for them all that was left to do was wait, it appeared. She did not bear the brightly colored outfit she could be usually found in back when they had all lived in Kirkwall, but rather the Inquisition's russet uniform. She was lightly armored, mostly on her shoulders and arms, but seemed ready for the battle ahead. Anxious as well, undoubtedly.
"Guess it'd be a dumb thing to say 'be patient', wouldn't it?" she offered with half of a self-deprecating smile. It fell away the moment she tossed her gaze back to the city and she shook her head. "I know the others are going as quickly as they can but," she said, shaking her head, "It doesn't make the waiting any easier."
Lucien expelled a breath through his nose, lifting his shoulders slightly, halfway to shrugging before he abandoned the effort. He nodded instead, but couldn't bring himself to relax, even slightly. He was carrying his tension deep in his muscles, to where it almost felt like it was seeming into his bones somehow, rendering him stiff and uncomfortable. A necessary lock against the persistent urge to do something.
"I suppose I'm going to have to get used to leading from... somewhere other than the front line of things," he said at last, because her words deserved a response, no matter how little he felt like giving one at the moment. "But still, this is one case where I can't—" he grimaced. Couldn't quite accept it. Couldn't quite steady himself in the usual way. No great mystery why: he had more friends and comrades in Kirkwall right now than he really wanted to think about. And the most important person in his entire world was among them.
"None of us can," Aurora answered, the frown on her lips deepening and revealing the turmoil she felt as well. She was hesitant as she glanced out across the water again before she began to shake her head. It was her home as well, and they had to see it with smoke swirling above it again although this time there was nothing that they could do but wait and watch. For the moment. "But we have to, for the moment at least. They're strong, they'll hold out until we get there," she answered again, before her brows began to furrow again. "And then we'll kick the reds out of our city together."
He supposed there was little point in believing anything else. Offering Aurora half a smile, Lucien uncrossed his arms and patted her once on the shoulder. But he'd promised Lia he'd speak to her father, and he intended to make good on that.
Breaking away from the prow of the boat, he descended the short staircase to the main deck, spotting Ithilian not far from Knight-Captain Séverine and a small cluster of others. Most of them were working on gear maintenance, at this point likely as much to keep their hands busy as anything, but of course that activity was now mostly closed to the elf. He'd paid a heavy price for his cause; of that there was no doubt.
Lucien settled himself next to them without fanfare; anywhere he could get away with not making a production of his presence was welcome. Here there wasn't any need at all. It was of course impossible to sit with Everburn at his back, so he removed the sword and put it down beside him, nodding politely to the templar captain. "How's everyone holding up?" There'd been a fair number of injured in the initial push to the Gallows, but of greater concern now was their state of mind.
"Adequately, Your—Lucien," Séverine answered, slightly apologetic in her eyes at almost using the more proper form of address with him again. The answer itself seemed forced, slightly too fast in the response, but she made no comment of it, returning to the work of sharpening her short sword with a whetstone. Her armor was still somewhat spattered with blood, as there hadn't been time to properly clean it all yet.
Ithilian seemed to be doing less than adequately. The scarred elf had never really become friends with Lucien during the time they spent in Kirkwall together, though there had to be some amount of trust gained over a distance if he was willing to let the woman who was now his daughter work for him at so young an age. Currently the two people most important in his life were not present, and actively risking their lives without him in order to ensure the rest of the army could have a chance to push on Hightown. He spent the moment examining his dagger, bone-carved and enchanted.
"I'm a wasted spot on this ship, I think," he said, quietly. "But I need to set foot on those docks, and find them." It was not hard to guess whom he referred to.
Lucien let his hands rest on his knees. "She asked me to talk to you about that," he remarked mildly, in a voice just as quiet as Ithilian's. "Lia. I doubt I need to tell you what she thinks." He still wasn't quite sure why she thought he'd have any more success than she would—perhaps it was because they were not nearly so personally involved in one another's lives.
The elf exhaled slowly, lowering the knife and looking up from his seat on the deck to Lucien with his one remaining eye. "Asking those closest to her to stay back while she throws herself into the worst kinds of danger..." He shook his head, twisting scarred lips into something resembling a smile. "Seems like she learned more from me than I intended. But in this she's probably right."
He shifted, sitting up a little straighter, the effort required to do that jarring a few coughs from him. Ithilian never looked particularly well, but perhaps he was in even more pain than he was letting on. "I'm not delusional, I know I can't be on any front lines. But I won't be stopped from following in the army's wake, until I know they're all right. She'll have to live with that compromise."
He was silent for a moment, likely expecting that there would be no argument against his plan. The rear wouldn't be entirely safe, especially if the Red Templars were ever able to flank or somehow surrounded them. But it was certainly better than trying to carve his way through them the way Lucien would be doing with Everburn.
"Have you thought about it much?" Ithilian asked. "Not fighting? I imagine you've a few people telling you to stay back yourself. Though I also imagine being an emperor will give you plenty to do besides fighting." It was easy enough to make the jump that he didn't expect the same was true of himself.
If his advisors had their way, Lucien would have already adopted a no-direct-combat policy. He understood the reasoning; honestly he knew they weren't wrong. But there would always be things he would have to make exceptions for, and in that sense he could understand one part of Ithilian's difficulty all too well.
"In a sense," he conceded. "Certainly there will be plenty to keep me busy. But it will also mean completely changing the kind of life I've been living. I'm afraid it seems that emperors don't have time to lead mercenary companies, or train young fighters, which I admit I enjoyed more than I ever enjoyed fighting itself." The latter had always been a matter of necessity, but the really rewarding part of leading the Lions had been watching those under his guidance grow until they no longer needed it. And then watching them take what they'd learned and do good things with it, like with the elves at Halamshiral.
"It also doesn't really require two hands, if you're looking for somewhere else to turn your energy." He paused. "Though I'm coming at this from a skewed viewpoint, I admit. No one in my family has ever really retired; I have heard there's much to recommend it." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. No doubt it was the kind of decision that would take time and careful consideration to make—what to do with himself now. Lucien didn't envy him that, even if there was a certain freedom in it that he'd never have.
"I've been trying to retire," Ithilian admitted, "for quite some time. There's only one obstacle left in the way, and I fear he'll take away everything I'm fighting for before the end. And now there's nothing I can do to help." He seemed to regret his words as soon as they left his mouth. He sheathed the knife in his hand, running his fingers in frustration through his hair. "Ignore me. I just need this night to be over."
"May I have a word, Lucien?" Séverine asked, returning her short sword to its sheath and handing off the whet stone to one of her templars. "In private?"
"Of course." Lucien nodded, returning his attention momentarily to Ithilian. There wasn't much he could say that wouldn't be an empty platitude, and he wasn't going to use one of those. Instead, he clasped the elf's shoulder for just a moment before he stood, taking up his sword and gesturing for the captain to precede him.
She nodded and led the way, leaving her helmet, shield, and flail behind and making her way towards the opposite railing of the ship. They passed Khari and Stel on the way, also passing the time by preparing gear that needed no more preparation, and making conversation. Séverine offered them a nod. The ship was crowded with occupants waiting for battle, so there wasn't much in the way of privacy, but a spot along the ship's starboard railing was empty enough that they could speak quietly without being overheard. It also offered them a clearer view of the city ahead of them.
The lights of a few fires still burned, but otherwise Kirkwall was darker than they'd ever seen it. All save for Hightown, where the conflict was clearly at its most heated. The Red Templars needed little in the way of rest, only pausing to reorganize their troops and prepare more attacks. "The fighting is still in the streets," Séverine concluded, squinting into the distance. "Even if they break, they can reform and hold the doors to the Keep. Her Excellency reinforced them, after what happened with the Qunari. The true templars won't break, though, not against this enemy, or any enemy." She seemed nervous about something. When they'd been on the verge of battle earlier she was calm, collected, focused in her anger. But now she seemed wholly unsure of something.
He didn't think it would be particularly helpful to share his suspicions that some of those she believed to be true templars were probably corrupted. Lucien thought it likely, considering the suddenness and effectiveness of the siege. A smart commander with the ability to do so would have seeded some of his own people in the ranks, or attempted to convert some that were already there. Instead of saying as much, Lucien took hold of the railing with both hands, squinting out at the faint lights on the distant shore. "I hope you're right," he said softly.
But this would not have been anything she needed to tell him alone, and so he waited patiently for her to ready herself for whatever that other thing was.
It took her the better part of a minute to come around to it, but there was still no change in the way the boom chains hung in front of them, so the time didn't seem particularly wasted. "I was going to tell you something personal. I'd... actually hoped I could tell you, if I ever met you again, and... here we are. Considering that anything could happen in the battle, it's best that I say this now." She winced, apparently finding that to be a terrible opening, but pressed on.
"Before the Inquisition, I was posted in Kirkwall. I started there a few years before the Qunari attacked. You were not yet a mercenary commander at the time. At least, I hadn't heard of the Argent Lions yet. Seems like a very long time ago, now." A great many things were different in the world, that much was true. "I was... fairly impressionable, I think, and angry, and Knight-Commander Meredith turned that to her own ends, as she did for many of us. Especially in the wake of the Qunari attack, her conviction was... well, it was inspiring."
Lucien diverted his eyes from the fires and turned them back on Séverine instead, tilting his head slightly. "No doubt," he said. For all that her madness had consumed her late in her life, Meredith did have a certain kind of forceful charisma. The way soldiers looked up to his own father wasn't entirely different, and he'd been one of them, at one point in his life. He could see the draw.
Séverine leaned forward, settling her forearms on the ship's railing. "In the years that followed, as Lady Sophia was coming closer to trying to retake her crown, I... was drawn into activities that were not fit for a templar. Things that Meredith commanded of me, and the others who believed in her. Belief she used just to keep herself in power, to keep out the enemies she started to see lurking in every corner." She swallowed, likely thinking back on it given the distant stare that came over her eyes.
"One night, I was assigned with a group of others to hit previously targeted homes in Lowtown. Mage sympathizers, I believe were the words Meredith used. When we got there, the people were gone, and you were there, with Her Excellency and some of your Argent Lions. We fought." She turned to face him, reaching up with a finger to trace along the scar running down over her lip. "The pommel of your Everburn gave me this, and your man Havard brought me down. But you didn't kill me. After everything that became of Meredith, I thought for a long time that... that I didn't deserve that. Mercy."
He couldn't say that he recognized her face or the wound in particular. But he knew now who she had to be—because he did remember that night, and the fight, and trying to succeed with as few deaths or grievous injuries as possible. He even remembered Havard struggling to contain the templar he'd subdued. He supposed it must have been her. Lucien smiled.
"You didn't make it easy for us," he recalled, letting himself dwell for a moment on the details. "But I hope you feel differently about it now. Frankly I'd say it's worked out quite well, if I might judge."
"I think it has as well. I was lost for a long time, but some of the people I've met helped me find my way. Cullen was the first. But eventually I was able to work with Lady Sophia as well, and Captain Riviera. And then Commander Leonhardt here with the Inquisition. It's... honestly, it's difficult for me to think about where I was, when I consider where I am now." A thought seemed to occur to her, perhaps one of the other sources of her nervousness. "If it's true, and Cullen really is dead, then... I think that would make me Knight-Commander of the Templars. And not just here, but... of all the templars that are left." Their numbers were dwindling, especially after this, but it went without saying that it was a large responsibility she'd be inheriting.
"But that's in the future. For now..." She looked back out at the city. "It's possible that some of the templars you spared are among the red ranks trying to capture our city. I just wanted you to know that one of them is also here, on your side. And I mean to do absolutely everything in my power to repay you for the opportunity you gave me. You, and Sophia, and Cullen, and Leon, and everyone that helped me get this far."
"That's reassuring to know." And it was, truly. Lucien was certainly used to that sort of thing working out less well down the line; he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of instances in which his tendency towards mercy had definitely worked out for the better. Fortunately, even one was enough to justify it, as far as he was concerned. And this one was certainly quite the case for it. "As for the rest, well... we do what we can. One step at a time. Though I'll admit standing in place is beginning to wear."
Séverine nodded, clearly having no argument to that. She squinted at the city in the distance. The lights seemed to have shifted slightly, but it was difficult to tell if that wasn't just a natural progression of any fires. "Lots of smoke there," she pointed out, referring to a location that looked to be somewhere outside of the Alienage. "I wonder if that's—"
Her words were cut off by the snapping of the western chain, audible even from this distance. It flew with force out towards the Gallows, falling into the water with a hefty splash all along its length. Everyone on board the ship had risen to their feet, staring ahead. A few had already started cheering.
"They did it," Séverine said, smiling ever so slightly. "Rilien and Sparrow did it. And... look!" The other was sinking as well, with a much more controlled descent into the water. "Both sides are down." She looked to the Emperor, expectantly.
Lucien let out a deep breath, a smile stealing over his face. "Yes. Yes." He pushed back from the rail and raised his voice. "Get this boat into that harbor; it's time to take back Kirkwall!"
Finally.
No doubt those they'd sent to risk themselves to bring down the chains were right in the thick of that storm. He'd have preferred to be facing it with them than this. Closing his eyes a moment, he squeezed his arms where he gripped them in his hands, balance automatically adjusting for the subtle dip of the boat's prow as another small wave went by beneath him. When he opened them again, the chain was still there, of course, and Kirkwall still dark in the distance. Close enough to see, much too far to reach.
He reminded himself once more that patience was necessary; that no amount of restlessness would make the moment arrive any faster. It was unsurprising that such rational reassurance was no help at all, when everything in him pulled him towards the fight. Towards her. He grit his teeth so hard they nearly creaked under the force, and tried not to think about it in those terms. Tried not to think of what every second here might cost.
A futile effort. He'd have had more success forgetting his own name.
A gentle touch on his arm alerted him to Aurora's presence. She had briefed her mages as much as she could in preparation for the liberation of the city, and even for them all that was left to do was wait, it appeared. She did not bear the brightly colored outfit she could be usually found in back when they had all lived in Kirkwall, but rather the Inquisition's russet uniform. She was lightly armored, mostly on her shoulders and arms, but seemed ready for the battle ahead. Anxious as well, undoubtedly.
"Guess it'd be a dumb thing to say 'be patient', wouldn't it?" she offered with half of a self-deprecating smile. It fell away the moment she tossed her gaze back to the city and she shook her head. "I know the others are going as quickly as they can but," she said, shaking her head, "It doesn't make the waiting any easier."
Lucien expelled a breath through his nose, lifting his shoulders slightly, halfway to shrugging before he abandoned the effort. He nodded instead, but couldn't bring himself to relax, even slightly. He was carrying his tension deep in his muscles, to where it almost felt like it was seeming into his bones somehow, rendering him stiff and uncomfortable. A necessary lock against the persistent urge to do something.
"I suppose I'm going to have to get used to leading from... somewhere other than the front line of things," he said at last, because her words deserved a response, no matter how little he felt like giving one at the moment. "But still, this is one case where I can't—" he grimaced. Couldn't quite accept it. Couldn't quite steady himself in the usual way. No great mystery why: he had more friends and comrades in Kirkwall right now than he really wanted to think about. And the most important person in his entire world was among them.
"None of us can," Aurora answered, the frown on her lips deepening and revealing the turmoil she felt as well. She was hesitant as she glanced out across the water again before she began to shake her head. It was her home as well, and they had to see it with smoke swirling above it again although this time there was nothing that they could do but wait and watch. For the moment. "But we have to, for the moment at least. They're strong, they'll hold out until we get there," she answered again, before her brows began to furrow again. "And then we'll kick the reds out of our city together."
He supposed there was little point in believing anything else. Offering Aurora half a smile, Lucien uncrossed his arms and patted her once on the shoulder. But he'd promised Lia he'd speak to her father, and he intended to make good on that.
Breaking away from the prow of the boat, he descended the short staircase to the main deck, spotting Ithilian not far from Knight-Captain Séverine and a small cluster of others. Most of them were working on gear maintenance, at this point likely as much to keep their hands busy as anything, but of course that activity was now mostly closed to the elf. He'd paid a heavy price for his cause; of that there was no doubt.
Lucien settled himself next to them without fanfare; anywhere he could get away with not making a production of his presence was welcome. Here there wasn't any need at all. It was of course impossible to sit with Everburn at his back, so he removed the sword and put it down beside him, nodding politely to the templar captain. "How's everyone holding up?" There'd been a fair number of injured in the initial push to the Gallows, but of greater concern now was their state of mind.
"Adequately, Your—Lucien," Séverine answered, slightly apologetic in her eyes at almost using the more proper form of address with him again. The answer itself seemed forced, slightly too fast in the response, but she made no comment of it, returning to the work of sharpening her short sword with a whetstone. Her armor was still somewhat spattered with blood, as there hadn't been time to properly clean it all yet.
Ithilian seemed to be doing less than adequately. The scarred elf had never really become friends with Lucien during the time they spent in Kirkwall together, though there had to be some amount of trust gained over a distance if he was willing to let the woman who was now his daughter work for him at so young an age. Currently the two people most important in his life were not present, and actively risking their lives without him in order to ensure the rest of the army could have a chance to push on Hightown. He spent the moment examining his dagger, bone-carved and enchanted.
"I'm a wasted spot on this ship, I think," he said, quietly. "But I need to set foot on those docks, and find them." It was not hard to guess whom he referred to.
Lucien let his hands rest on his knees. "She asked me to talk to you about that," he remarked mildly, in a voice just as quiet as Ithilian's. "Lia. I doubt I need to tell you what she thinks." He still wasn't quite sure why she thought he'd have any more success than she would—perhaps it was because they were not nearly so personally involved in one another's lives.
The elf exhaled slowly, lowering the knife and looking up from his seat on the deck to Lucien with his one remaining eye. "Asking those closest to her to stay back while she throws herself into the worst kinds of danger..." He shook his head, twisting scarred lips into something resembling a smile. "Seems like she learned more from me than I intended. But in this she's probably right."
He shifted, sitting up a little straighter, the effort required to do that jarring a few coughs from him. Ithilian never looked particularly well, but perhaps he was in even more pain than he was letting on. "I'm not delusional, I know I can't be on any front lines. But I won't be stopped from following in the army's wake, until I know they're all right. She'll have to live with that compromise."
He was silent for a moment, likely expecting that there would be no argument against his plan. The rear wouldn't be entirely safe, especially if the Red Templars were ever able to flank or somehow surrounded them. But it was certainly better than trying to carve his way through them the way Lucien would be doing with Everburn.
"Have you thought about it much?" Ithilian asked. "Not fighting? I imagine you've a few people telling you to stay back yourself. Though I also imagine being an emperor will give you plenty to do besides fighting." It was easy enough to make the jump that he didn't expect the same was true of himself.
If his advisors had their way, Lucien would have already adopted a no-direct-combat policy. He understood the reasoning; honestly he knew they weren't wrong. But there would always be things he would have to make exceptions for, and in that sense he could understand one part of Ithilian's difficulty all too well.
"In a sense," he conceded. "Certainly there will be plenty to keep me busy. But it will also mean completely changing the kind of life I've been living. I'm afraid it seems that emperors don't have time to lead mercenary companies, or train young fighters, which I admit I enjoyed more than I ever enjoyed fighting itself." The latter had always been a matter of necessity, but the really rewarding part of leading the Lions had been watching those under his guidance grow until they no longer needed it. And then watching them take what they'd learned and do good things with it, like with the elves at Halamshiral.
"It also doesn't really require two hands, if you're looking for somewhere else to turn your energy." He paused. "Though I'm coming at this from a skewed viewpoint, I admit. No one in my family has ever really retired; I have heard there's much to recommend it." He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. No doubt it was the kind of decision that would take time and careful consideration to make—what to do with himself now. Lucien didn't envy him that, even if there was a certain freedom in it that he'd never have.
"I've been trying to retire," Ithilian admitted, "for quite some time. There's only one obstacle left in the way, and I fear he'll take away everything I'm fighting for before the end. And now there's nothing I can do to help." He seemed to regret his words as soon as they left his mouth. He sheathed the knife in his hand, running his fingers in frustration through his hair. "Ignore me. I just need this night to be over."
"May I have a word, Lucien?" Séverine asked, returning her short sword to its sheath and handing off the whet stone to one of her templars. "In private?"
"Of course." Lucien nodded, returning his attention momentarily to Ithilian. There wasn't much he could say that wouldn't be an empty platitude, and he wasn't going to use one of those. Instead, he clasped the elf's shoulder for just a moment before he stood, taking up his sword and gesturing for the captain to precede him.
She nodded and led the way, leaving her helmet, shield, and flail behind and making her way towards the opposite railing of the ship. They passed Khari and Stel on the way, also passing the time by preparing gear that needed no more preparation, and making conversation. Séverine offered them a nod. The ship was crowded with occupants waiting for battle, so there wasn't much in the way of privacy, but a spot along the ship's starboard railing was empty enough that they could speak quietly without being overheard. It also offered them a clearer view of the city ahead of them.
The lights of a few fires still burned, but otherwise Kirkwall was darker than they'd ever seen it. All save for Hightown, where the conflict was clearly at its most heated. The Red Templars needed little in the way of rest, only pausing to reorganize their troops and prepare more attacks. "The fighting is still in the streets," Séverine concluded, squinting into the distance. "Even if they break, they can reform and hold the doors to the Keep. Her Excellency reinforced them, after what happened with the Qunari. The true templars won't break, though, not against this enemy, or any enemy." She seemed nervous about something. When they'd been on the verge of battle earlier she was calm, collected, focused in her anger. But now she seemed wholly unsure of something.
He didn't think it would be particularly helpful to share his suspicions that some of those she believed to be true templars were probably corrupted. Lucien thought it likely, considering the suddenness and effectiveness of the siege. A smart commander with the ability to do so would have seeded some of his own people in the ranks, or attempted to convert some that were already there. Instead of saying as much, Lucien took hold of the railing with both hands, squinting out at the faint lights on the distant shore. "I hope you're right," he said softly.
But this would not have been anything she needed to tell him alone, and so he waited patiently for her to ready herself for whatever that other thing was.
It took her the better part of a minute to come around to it, but there was still no change in the way the boom chains hung in front of them, so the time didn't seem particularly wasted. "I was going to tell you something personal. I'd... actually hoped I could tell you, if I ever met you again, and... here we are. Considering that anything could happen in the battle, it's best that I say this now." She winced, apparently finding that to be a terrible opening, but pressed on.
"Before the Inquisition, I was posted in Kirkwall. I started there a few years before the Qunari attacked. You were not yet a mercenary commander at the time. At least, I hadn't heard of the Argent Lions yet. Seems like a very long time ago, now." A great many things were different in the world, that much was true. "I was... fairly impressionable, I think, and angry, and Knight-Commander Meredith turned that to her own ends, as she did for many of us. Especially in the wake of the Qunari attack, her conviction was... well, it was inspiring."
Lucien diverted his eyes from the fires and turned them back on Séverine instead, tilting his head slightly. "No doubt," he said. For all that her madness had consumed her late in her life, Meredith did have a certain kind of forceful charisma. The way soldiers looked up to his own father wasn't entirely different, and he'd been one of them, at one point in his life. He could see the draw.
Séverine leaned forward, settling her forearms on the ship's railing. "In the years that followed, as Lady Sophia was coming closer to trying to retake her crown, I... was drawn into activities that were not fit for a templar. Things that Meredith commanded of me, and the others who believed in her. Belief she used just to keep herself in power, to keep out the enemies she started to see lurking in every corner." She swallowed, likely thinking back on it given the distant stare that came over her eyes.
"One night, I was assigned with a group of others to hit previously targeted homes in Lowtown. Mage sympathizers, I believe were the words Meredith used. When we got there, the people were gone, and you were there, with Her Excellency and some of your Argent Lions. We fought." She turned to face him, reaching up with a finger to trace along the scar running down over her lip. "The pommel of your Everburn gave me this, and your man Havard brought me down. But you didn't kill me. After everything that became of Meredith, I thought for a long time that... that I didn't deserve that. Mercy."
He couldn't say that he recognized her face or the wound in particular. But he knew now who she had to be—because he did remember that night, and the fight, and trying to succeed with as few deaths or grievous injuries as possible. He even remembered Havard struggling to contain the templar he'd subdued. He supposed it must have been her. Lucien smiled.
"You didn't make it easy for us," he recalled, letting himself dwell for a moment on the details. "But I hope you feel differently about it now. Frankly I'd say it's worked out quite well, if I might judge."
"I think it has as well. I was lost for a long time, but some of the people I've met helped me find my way. Cullen was the first. But eventually I was able to work with Lady Sophia as well, and Captain Riviera. And then Commander Leonhardt here with the Inquisition. It's... honestly, it's difficult for me to think about where I was, when I consider where I am now." A thought seemed to occur to her, perhaps one of the other sources of her nervousness. "If it's true, and Cullen really is dead, then... I think that would make me Knight-Commander of the Templars. And not just here, but... of all the templars that are left." Their numbers were dwindling, especially after this, but it went without saying that it was a large responsibility she'd be inheriting.
"But that's in the future. For now..." She looked back out at the city. "It's possible that some of the templars you spared are among the red ranks trying to capture our city. I just wanted you to know that one of them is also here, on your side. And I mean to do absolutely everything in my power to repay you for the opportunity you gave me. You, and Sophia, and Cullen, and Leon, and everyone that helped me get this far."
"That's reassuring to know." And it was, truly. Lucien was certainly used to that sort of thing working out less well down the line; he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of instances in which his tendency towards mercy had definitely worked out for the better. Fortunately, even one was enough to justify it, as far as he was concerned. And this one was certainly quite the case for it. "As for the rest, well... we do what we can. One step at a time. Though I'll admit standing in place is beginning to wear."
Séverine nodded, clearly having no argument to that. She squinted at the city in the distance. The lights seemed to have shifted slightly, but it was difficult to tell if that wasn't just a natural progression of any fires. "Lots of smoke there," she pointed out, referring to a location that looked to be somewhere outside of the Alienage. "I wonder if that's—"
Her words were cut off by the snapping of the western chain, audible even from this distance. It flew with force out towards the Gallows, falling into the water with a hefty splash all along its length. Everyone on board the ship had risen to their feet, staring ahead. A few had already started cheering.
"They did it," Séverine said, smiling ever so slightly. "Rilien and Sparrow did it. And... look!" The other was sinking as well, with a much more controlled descent into the water. "Both sides are down." She looked to the Emperor, expectantly.
Lucien let out a deep breath, a smile stealing over his face. "Yes. Yes." He pushed back from the rail and raised his voice. "Get this boat into that harbor; it's time to take back Kirkwall!"
Finally.