Just one more day. One more day. One more...
One more day as Viscountess of Kirkwall. Sophia couldn't help but feel she was leaving something behind along with the title. The nobles finally had their way, led of course by William Alston, and tomorrow they would crown her again, this time as Queen. Maybe it just felt like it was too easy. She'd nearly given her life countless times in the efforts that eventually led to regaining her throne, and not once since. Not a single drop of blood shed since the Keep could once again be called her own. But she reminded herself that not everything needed to be paid for in blood.
"Sophia?" Cullen's voice stirred the Viscountess from her thoughts, and she lifted her eyes from where they'd been staring blankly at her desk. The Knight-Commander was in full armor as he always was. To be honest, she missed gearing up more days than not. Never leaving home without Vesenia's comfortable weight across her back. She knew without a doubt that Lucien would feel the same way about his own life. Missing the simplicity it once had. Maybe their lives were never simple, but once upon a time, their goals were, and they didn't keep them from each other.
"Cullen, come in," she said, setting a paper aside and folding her hands in her lap.
"Actually, I intended to ask if you would come out." Cullen immediately looked as though he feared he'd stepped too far. "Er, if you would walk with me, that is."
She smiled, and pushed her chair back. "Of course. Where are we going?"
Just around Hightown, as it turned out. They spoke of other things as they walked, and as Cullen came around to whatever it was he really wanted to say. The state of the templars in Kirkwall, the way the citizen's army was coming along, current cleanup efforts in Lowtown. Cullen knew by now that the idea of Sophia taking up the mantle of Divine, or attempting to, was not her favorite subject, and dutifully avoided it. Just when she'd gotten used to the regularity of ruling the city, something came along to disrupt her entire life, her collection of plans and dreams for her future. Talking like this helped keep her grounded in the present.
"I enjoy these, you know?" she said, as they neared the stairs at the edge of the Hightown markets. "Our little talks." The view was always impressive, even if Lowtown was not particularly idyllic.
"I do as well." Cullen winced. "I'll be the first to admit I don't have many friends. I'm glad I can count you among them."
"My friends are limited as well," she said, and was met with an immediate look of skepticism from the Knight-Commander. "Real ones, that is. People I can really talk to. Some have gone far away, and others..." She let the thought fade away. How many times had she wondered what might've happened if she hadn't become Viscountess? Enough to know that it was madness. What was done was done.
"I've been meaning to thank you," Cullen said, a touch more awkwardly than before. "For quite some time, actually. Thought today would be as good as any day."
"Oh?" She lifted her eyebrows. "What have I done?"
"You... helped me keep my faith," he said. The words seemed hard for him to part with, difficult to admit. "In Meredith's last days, I started to question my purpose, the life of the templar. In Ferelden, I... saw things, so many terrible things, and it was because of them that I was led astray for so long." She knew a little of that story, though he'd never really shared all of it with her. Part of the legend of the Fifth Blight, when the Ferelden Circle Tower fell to the influence of demons. He'd come into contact with Elissa Cousland and her companions, but only at the end of the ordeal. Sophia had never dared press him for more of it.
"I thought, for a time," he continued, "that I would renounce my vows to the Order, live a life as something other than a templar, but... you inspired me. Inspired many of my brothers and sisters. I will gladly continue to serve the Order, and you, when you move on from being a Viscountess, or a Queen..."
She shook her head slightly at that, looking out and away at the city below her. "I'm still not sure about that. Any of it. It's not as though my faith has never wavered."
"Only the strongest of faiths survive the fires of doubt." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "And yours did. That's all that matters." She let that sit for a moment, at which point Cullen apparently decided he'd reached his limit of sharing his thoughts. He cleared his throat, awkward again. "I should get back. Preparations to make, of course."
"I'll see you tomorrow then, Cullen."
"I look forward to it, my Queen."
Just one more breath. One more breath. One more...
One more breath was all she could seem to focus on at a time. How could so much have happened in just a few hours?
They stripped Cullen's body of his armor, carrying his corpse as their banner up the steps towards Hightown. A red banner, coated in blood. They'd erupted like a volcano from underneath her city. Apparently their attempts to root out their bases in the tunnels had been futile. No doubt they had help on the inside, from within the Order, as they could be seen sending barges loaded with troops out to the Gallows, to overwhelm whatever templar force remained to protect them. They wouldn't stand a chance.
She'd been so foolish, so stupid. She sent Ash away to protect the people, to try to rally their forces in Lowtown, but the battle was lost before it ever began. For all she knew she'd sent him to his death, and all she could think about was what Nostariel would say, seeing her be so reckless with his life. One more breath, in and out. She had to focus, and lead this defense. They were formed up at the top of the stairs, guards and infantry and nobles and the last few of Kirkwall's true templars. They barred the way to Hightown.
A man emerged from the front rank of the Red Templar army, clad in glittering armor imbued with red lyrium, a full helm obscuring his face. The greatsword across his back was twice the width of Vesenia, throbbing with some corrupted energy or magic. She had her own enchantment, something she'd commissioned to be done on Lucien's advice. Vesenia now glowed white hot, and would burn through any of these monsters that dared come any closer.
The man removed his helm, revealing a familiar face, that of a grizzled warrior with short, dark hair. His eyes had once been blue, but now they were tinted red, along with the veins bulging down his forehead and along his neck. "You cannot resist, Queen," Carver Hawke said, gesturing back behind him to where Cullen was lashed to a pole, arms bound above his head. "The false Order has been cut down. Burned away. Only a few of their number remain with you. This city that harbored them will fall, and the ascension of the Red Templars will be complete."
He drew his sword, leveling it at her. "Lay down your arms. Not all of you need to die. Just enough for the Elder One to hear this call."
William arrived at her side, touching her shoulder and leaning in. "Your word is sent, Sophia. You think they'll come?"
Sophia nodded exactly once. It wasn't a question of if, but rather how soon. And how long could they survive the onslaught. "Kirkwall stands together against you," she said, raising her voice so that Carver could hear her. "You will not receive a surrender from us. You will not break us."
"You've already lost." Carver lowered the helmet back down over his head. "Struggling will only cause you more suffering before the end."
He lifted his hand nonchalantly, and his red knights charged, surging around him and smashing against their line.
Just one more night. One more night. One more...
One more night seemed like an impossibility at this point. But Sophia had felt the same way the night before. She brought Vesenia down hard, as hard as her weary arms could muster on the head of a red knight, the enchantment cleaving the corrupted woman's helmet and much of her head in two. Planting her boot against the breastplate, she shoved the body backwards, kicking off of the barricade and delaying two more enemy soldiers from trying their hand next. They met spears from the city guard, and Sophia pulled herself back from the front to catch her breath.
She wrenched off her crested helmet, pushing sweat-slicked golden hair from her face and planting the tip of her sword into a crack in the stone street for support. The night air was cool, chilled by winter's onset, and it helped keep her from collapsing, from retching again. Their line at the top of the stairs had collapsed, but not before others behind them had erected usable defenses they could retreat to. Many had paid for those defenses with their lives on the front line, or in the rear guard as they pulled back, and Sophia herself would've been overwhelmed and killed if William hadn't pulled her from the fight. Now they held the line at three points leading to the Keep, where the entire civilian population of Hightown was, for the moment, protected.
It had only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime, cutting down red templars until her arms were numb, wading through their aura of corruption until she was sick to her stomach. She couldn't imagine what it had to be like for mages. There were none left in Hightown, a fact the severely wounded in particular were keenly aware of. Somehow Sophia had managed to avoid the worst of it, but like the barricades, her armor wouldn't last forever, especially not as exhaustion took hold.
"Sophia!" someone called out from behind her. William was riding her way, bringing her horse alongside him, his helmet pulled off and tucked under his arm. They'd managed to get the rest of the horses inside the Keep with the nobles, as they honestly had more value right now. The Queen pulled in one more breath, and righted herself.
"What's happened?"
"Our middle is collapsing," he relayed, urgently. "They won't hold much longer."
"Maker preserve us," she whispered under her breath. She slipped her helmet back down into place, hefting her sword. "Let's go."
The rode the short distance required to reach the central barricade, the one spanning the widest point and thus the most difficult to defend, right in front of the courtyard and steps leading up to the Queen's Keep. Sophia wheeled her horse about to see red templars spilling over the top at three different points, with a fourth steadily giving way. They were high enough here, with a clear enough view below, that Sophia could still see the lights on the ships in the distance. Still stuck beyond her own city's chains. She fought against the sinking feeling in her chest.
The stars were still out, though. Sophia would've offered a prayer, put her voice to the Chant, but she needed every breath. She'd have to hope the thought would do.
She dismounted, leaving her horse to a soldier to pull back to the Keep, and waded into the fight. William remained atop his horse, hacking down three red templars one after the other. Sophia cut down two, the second a shadow with blades of red lyrium for arms. He found them severed when Sophia parried, leaving him with nothing to turn aside her thrust. Around her, guards and true templars and militia fighters turned and rallied, and for a moment it was a pure pitched battle, chaos and carnage.
Steadily they pushed them back, Sophia leading the way with efficient, precise cuts, not even thinking anymore, just acting on instinct. She felled another knight, dodging sideways and slicing cleanly through his left leg. She drove her blade down through his chest once he was on his back, and a triumphant cry went up from the defenders, the momentum carrying them back to their barricade.
And then suddenly a great hulking creature blasted right through with a fist like solid rock. It slammed into Sophia on its way, sending her and three others flying back across the street onto their back. Dazed, she struggled to lift her head, only to find the hideous sight of a behemoth in the gaping hole in their wall. She'd only heard reports of their strength from the Inquisition's experience with them at Haven. They were as horrible as she imagined.
In an instant the battle went from a turning tide to an utter flood. Sophia got back to her feet just in time to backstep away from a knight's lyrium-encrusted fist. Her swing in the opening was disrupted by a horror's barrage of shards. They clattered off her armor, leaving her unharmed by throwing off her attack. Vesenia burned into the shoulder of the knight, not close enough to the neck or heart to end him.
Fighting through the wound, the knight smashed his fist into Sophia's side before she could withdraw her blade, the force enough to dent her armor on the left side and nearly cave it in. She slid her sword free, trying and failing to gasp in a breath through the slit in her helmet. William rode past, landing a slash to the back of the knight's neck where the warped armor had left him vulnerable, and Sophia finished him off with a thrust through his midsection.
Pain suddenly bloomed across her upper back, where a morning star struck her with full force, forcing Sophia down onto her knees. She swung blindly, Vesenia finding only the red templar's heavy shield and clanging off. The shield lurched forward, catching her across the chest and head and spilling her onto her back. She raised her sword in an attempt to block a killing blow, but William cut the red templar's hand clean off at the wrist first. He dropped his shield and drew a knife in the now free hand, attempting to dive onto Sophia, but she was able to lift her sword and let the red templar's weight drive it through his chest.
After he'd stilled, Sophia shoved him off of her and struggled back to her knees. All around her the defenders were falling, fleeing for the Keep, and on the sides they were breaking as well, no doubt hearing of the impending defeat in their middle. They couldn't hope to hold here any longer.
William rode up beside Sophia, offering his hand down. "There's nothing more we can do here, Sophia."
She pulled herself up, taking one last look at the chains and finding them still blocking Lucien from her. Turning away, she let herself be pulled up into the saddle with him, and they fled for the open doors of the Keep.
Just one more hour. One more hour. One more...
One more hour, and the sun would come up. And the Inquisition's army would be here. Her lookouts in the towers of the Keep reported that the chains had gone down, and their rescuers were landing troops on the docks, fighting their way up through Lowtown. Sophia hated to think of the murderous ascent that awaited them. Packed formations of spears and knights behind them, how many lives would it take to break them? Would it be enough? Every minute they were held in check another devastating injury was inflicted here.
The taste of healing potions hadn't fully washed out the taste of bile in her throat, but it at least came close. She didn't remember ever being this tired. Not when the Qunari had attacked, not when she fought a desperate battle to overthrow Meredith. Her wounds weren't nearly as significant as what some of the others had gone through, but they were steadily draining her, along with the lack of sleep.
How could anyone sleep, with the incessant pounding on the door. The behemoth outside was relentless, it never tired, and a constant team was required on the door to brace it. So far, it had held, but there were shadows crawling on the towers. Her lookouts were starting to disappear, anyone who wandered alone in the Keep cut down in a dark hallway. Picked off, one by one. They couldn't spare the manpower to hunt them down.
William came to sit beside her, bloodied and weary, but still able to fight if the enemy broke through. "Whatever happens next, Sophia... we made them pay for every inch they took."
"You'll have to forgive me if I find little comfort in that." She would not take solace in the amount of death she'd dealt before her own, not even when it was corrupted templars being felled, people who by all accounts appeared to be lost entirely. Without hope of redemption. Perhaps their army would be less capable of ravaging and destroying elsewhere, but if they succeeded in destroying her city, everything she'd spent her life to build... she couldn't bring herself to think beyond that.
They sat in silence, wasting no more breath on words, just trying to recover in time for the next battle. Their last, if the red templars forced their way inside. Sophia had felt a shifting relationship with death over the years. In the past, she hadn't feared it much, despite her responsibilities, despite the weight placed on her for the future. It was always so distant, a faraway dream of ruling Kirkwall when she was no longer a young woman. In those years she had always been a warrior before she was the Viscount's daughter, and a warrior had to be willing to face death if it came for her.
But now... she didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to be a warrior anymore. She was a Queen. The Inquisition wanted her to be a Divine. She'd been so close to a different life, a happier life, and now these red templars were going to tear that away from her, tear her away from him. She was terrified of dying, of losing the opportunities that seemed so close now. Of making Lucien go through that pain. She'd glimpsed it in his eyes after the Arishok had nearly killed her. She hoped she would never have to see it again.
And then suddenly the behemoth's smashing against the door stopped. Heavy footfalls like drum beats carried it away, away from the Keep. Sophia knew that was supposed to come as relief, but instead she only felt dread, as she knew where it was going. What it was going to do.
"Excellency!" a courier said, breathless as she careened towards Sophia and William, who were already on their feet. "The Inquisition has broken through! They're pushing towards the Keep!"
"That beast will tear through their lines," William said.
Sophia already knew what she was planning to do. What had to be done. "Bring the horses," she commanded. "My Companions will ride out beside me. One last charge into their flank." Their numbers were too few to break the enemy themselves, but maybe if they did enough, the Inquisition could get through before they were killed.
No one questioned the order. No one wanted to perish here without a fight. The horses were fresh, unused for the duration of the battle, and the Queen's Companions had yet to truly show what they were capable of. Sophia could still hear knights beyond the door, but they would break under the lance, she was certain of it.
They mounted up before the door, with enough room to make an effective charge. Sophia sheathed Vesenia for a lance, her own enchanted in much the same way her blade was, with a tip that glowed white hot in the presence of corruption. The Companions formed up beside her in a wedge formation, their formerly shining armor battered and cracked and bloodstained. Sophia's own was damaged and barely holding up, but there was no time to make any repairs. The behemoth was out there, smashing through Inquisition ranks, and Sophia was not about to let that stand.
"Let them come," she said, dropping her helm back into place.
The door was unlocked and unbarred, guards and militia infantry fleeing from it as it burst open, red templar knights and infantry suddenly charging inside. Sophia lifted her lance, and then leveled it at her enemy. "For Kirkwall!" The battle cry went up around her, and they kicked their heels in, charging straight ahead. Sophia's lance punched clean through the head of the first knight, dropping her instantly, the others pummeled aside by the Companions and cleaned up by the ranks of guards and militia that charged out behind them.
Once the armored horses built momentum, there was no stopping them, not from the disorganized mob of red templars that thought to easily overwhelm them. The Queen and her Companions trampled them underfoot, lanced them down, left them to die. They rounded a corner, renewing the charge as they crossed an open area of street between the two conflicts, just as the sun's first light broke over the rooftops ahead of them, reflecting off their armor, bathing them in a golden glow. The red templars threw everything they had at the Inquisition, the behemoth at their center, swinging and stabbing and killing with nearly every blow.
There, in the middle of them, she saw him, and though she couldn't be sure, she thought he saw her too, charging right for him. She lanced one of the archers, her weapon picking him up and tossing him through the air into his allies. The thundering cavalry line smashed into the rear of the red templar formation, and their infantry desperately tried to get out of the way or form some kind of defense. There was none against this charge. The militia followed behind, making it an all out melee in the wake of the cavalry. They couldn't possibly keep up, and soon the horses were surrounded by red templars on all sides. To stop now was to be overwhelmed and killed.
Sophia charged straight for the behemoth, glowing lance poised to strike through its heart. It turned, leaving the Inquisition behind to deal with knights and shadows, pushing red templars aside to better face the Queen. She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the ache in her arm and keeping it steady, on target, drowning every noise besides her breathing and the thunder of hooves. The behemoth reared back for a strike, too early, and for a moment Sophia could envision the kill, one swift, clean blow.
But it wasn't too early. The fist of red lyrium smashed down into the ground, a pulse of corruption going out, and spikes like thick metal stakes erupted from the ground all around it. Sophia's horse was impaled from underneath, momentum stopped cold, and she was pitched over forward out of the saddle, losing her grip on the lance. She flipped over and landed hard on her back, suddenly trapped in a tiny arena with her monstrous opponent.
She rolled over just in time to avoid being crushed in one blow, drawing her sword as she rose to her feet. The sounds of desperate battle were all around her, blocked by the wall of red lyrium spikes. The behemoth's opposite arm was a sort of two pronged claw or blade, lighter and swifter than the giant maul of a fist on the other side. It swung this for her, Sophia's deflection barely adequate, and she almost lost her feet. The fist came down next, forcing her to dodge to the side, and she did so in time to dart in and make a swing across its chest, the enchanted blade opening up a burning line across it.
It howled, and Sophia went for a thrust, trying to end it immediately. She'd overstayed her welcome; the fist of red lyrium swiped sideways and smashed her away, lifting her into the air and tossing her until she struck the inside of the red lyrium wall, the force of the blow taking her helmet right off. She crumpled to the ground, the world spinning, a sick feeling heavy in her gut.
She stumbled sideways away from being smashed, the tip of her sword lingering near the ground while she struggled to raise it. The pronged blades came in at her, faster than she could react to. She shifted Vesenia, trying to block it aside but instead getting caught in between the blades. She drove the right one wide, but the left struck her, piercing through her weakened armor and sinking into her abdomen on the left side. It didn't pierce all the way through, as Sophia was driven back into the lyrium wall first. The sickness from the lyrium blade stabbing into her was almost enough to overwhelm her, but she held onto consciousness and kept her feet.
She turned Vesenia sideways, and cut horizontally, burning through the blade until she was cut free. Sophia tried to lift her sword for an attack, but her legs gave out first, sending her to the ground on her side. Her sword fell beside her, as both of Sophia's hands went to the blade of lyrium in her. She curled in on herself, trying to wrench it free. It wouldn't matter, as she wasn't going to be able to move away from being crushed this time.
From over the side of the lyrium wall, somehow a templar was thrown over inside with her. A true templar, with a cracked shield and a flail. She was plainly wounded as well, dripping blood as she landed, but she skidded to a halt in front of Sophia, her shield glowing white just as the fist fell. It bounced away with a deafening crack, both shield and red lyrium fist shattering entirely, and the woman's arm clearly broke under the strain. She ignored it, calling down a smite like a bolt of lightning from above, leaving the entire front of the behemoth scorched and burning. She followed with an upwards swing of her flail, her templar abilities blasting pieces off from the monster's face.
The behemoth staggered back, wounded but not defeated, but the templar did as well, drained heavily by her efforts. She fought to stay up, but in the end she sank down to the ground, clutching at her wounds. Sophia still couldn't manage to rise above hands and knees. She'd withdrawn the blade from her side partway, but the pain had only spiked, temporarily sapping her strength. Just beyond her momentary prison, she could hear a familiar blade, hacking through the red lyrium wall of spikes trying to block the world out...
The enchantment on Everburn was both ancient and powerful, and the force of Lucien's strength behind it was just enough. Again and again the blade struck, scarlet crystals flying from the impacts, until finally the sword itself burst through, close enough for Sophia to feel the heat radiating from its white-hot edge. It withdrew again with a grinding hiss, and a moment later, there was a heavy impact from the other side. Lucien threw his shoulder into the fault line he'd created, and the large crack in the wall spiderwebbed once, twice.
On the third impact, he crashed through in a rain of red shards, landing solidly. His eyes, wide and desperate at the gap in his helm, found hers for a split second before the behemoth was upon him, thrusting forward with its remaining long spike and a half. A swift arc of Everburn parried, knocking the blow off its trajectory hard enough to crack the lyrium. With a hard step in, Lucien reversed the momentum of his sword, bringing it back down on the same spot.
With a sound not unlike breaking glass, the second lyrium blade shattered under the force, cracks traveling up the length of the behemoth's arm, the crystals flaring an angry shade as they ruptured. The creature staggered back, lashing out defensively as it sensed the tide turning against it; its spiked foot caught an unlucky blow to Lucien's leg, which buckled, taking him to a knee.
Even there, though, he wasn't defenseless, shifting his grip on Everburn until he was holding the blade in his hands, leaning forward to catch the back of the once-templar's knee with the crossguard and pull. Ordinarily, it would have been an annoyance at best, but the behemoth was already off-balance, and this only destabilized it further. All it needed was a push, and it would topple.
Just one more swing. One more swing. One more...
One more effort, and this would be over. Sophia had to believe that when the rest of this lyrium came down, it would be Inquisition soldiers, and her soldiers, surrounding them, and not the red templars overwhelming everyone. She didn't know where she dredged the strength up from, but her hand went back to the lyrium blade in her and pulled it free, a splotch of blood landing on the stone street beside it, but as soon as it left her hand she felt her head clear. The pain lingered, weighing down her limbs, but she could ignore that. What was a little more?
Her right hand closed around the hilt of her sword. Her left helped push her to her feet, and then she charged forward, blade low, humming and asking for one last kill. She swept it up in a broad arc, cleaving across the behemoth's chest and sending a small shower of red lyrium and blood into the air. The creature moaned and tipped backwards, defenseless, and Sophia drove her sword up into its belly, piercing straight through and out the other side. She let it slide out once more as the behemoth collapsed onto its back, throwing a cloud of dust into the air and shaking the ground where it fell.
With its death, the shards of red lyrium surrounding her cracked and shattered, and all around her the Inquisition was pressing the attack. Her surviving Companions ran down as many as they could; Sophia could spot William riding at the center of them, untiring. The enemy was in full retreat, running for the gates.
Vesenia slipped from her hands and clattered against the ground. The templar that had saved her removed her helm. Séverine offered a weak smile to her, keeping pressure on her own wounds. Sophia smiled back, and then tried to take the two steps needed to get to Lucien. Her legs failed her on the second, and she fell towards him.
Still on one knee, he caught her with a soft grunt, their armor clacking together and jarring their wounds, though he hardly seemed to notice. Lucien shifted, freeing one of his arms long enough to pull the helm from his head and let it fall to the ground with a ringing clang. And then his hands were at her face, gentle even despite the gauntlets he wore with his armor. A purple bruise darkened on his cheek, the deep shadows of fatigue sitting in the crescent-moons of skin under his eyes. His thumbs feathered over her cheekbones; he leaned down until his brow touched hers.
"Sophia," he murmured, an unfamiliar tremble in his voice. "My love." Though there was pain and anguish in his eyes, brightened by unshed tears, it was not the pain she had so feared putting there. Somehow, despite everything, the worst had not come to pass. The battle was over, and the both of them alive.
"I promised," she said, suddenly aware that it wasn't just like she said, and she needed to make it that way. Her tears were not unshed, for she'd been holding them back since all of this started. Ever since he left. "I promised you, whatever I was faced with..."
She ran out of breath, and the constriction in her throat wasn't helping. But she had to get up. She got one foot underneath her. If they worked together, both of them could make it off the ground. She leaned as much of her weight on him as she could, but before long they were both on their feet.
"Still here," she whispered. If they hadn't been touching, he wouldn't have heard her. "Still standing. And waiting for you."
"I'm sorry I made you wait so long." Lucien shifted; he was clearly favoring the leg the behemoth had hit. Most likely it was broken in some fashion or another, but it didn't show on his face. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers, soft and momentary, moving back only a hairsbreadth to speak. "I made you a promise, too, but right now, I think we're needed elsewhere." He shifted partially away, letting one hand slide to her back, and they both faced the battlefield that Hightown had become.
They were always needed somewhere. For the moment, at least it was not in battle. The army had it well in hand, the sounds of battle fading and steadily being replaced with the cheers of the victorious. Despite the chill of the morning winter air, the sun was warm at their backs. Rest would have to wait, for it was a new day in Kirkwall. And as always, there was work to be done.
One more day as Viscountess of Kirkwall. Sophia couldn't help but feel she was leaving something behind along with the title. The nobles finally had their way, led of course by William Alston, and tomorrow they would crown her again, this time as Queen. Maybe it just felt like it was too easy. She'd nearly given her life countless times in the efforts that eventually led to regaining her throne, and not once since. Not a single drop of blood shed since the Keep could once again be called her own. But she reminded herself that not everything needed to be paid for in blood.
"Sophia?" Cullen's voice stirred the Viscountess from her thoughts, and she lifted her eyes from where they'd been staring blankly at her desk. The Knight-Commander was in full armor as he always was. To be honest, she missed gearing up more days than not. Never leaving home without Vesenia's comfortable weight across her back. She knew without a doubt that Lucien would feel the same way about his own life. Missing the simplicity it once had. Maybe their lives were never simple, but once upon a time, their goals were, and they didn't keep them from each other.
"Cullen, come in," she said, setting a paper aside and folding her hands in her lap.
"Actually, I intended to ask if you would come out." Cullen immediately looked as though he feared he'd stepped too far. "Er, if you would walk with me, that is."
She smiled, and pushed her chair back. "Of course. Where are we going?"
Just around Hightown, as it turned out. They spoke of other things as they walked, and as Cullen came around to whatever it was he really wanted to say. The state of the templars in Kirkwall, the way the citizen's army was coming along, current cleanup efforts in Lowtown. Cullen knew by now that the idea of Sophia taking up the mantle of Divine, or attempting to, was not her favorite subject, and dutifully avoided it. Just when she'd gotten used to the regularity of ruling the city, something came along to disrupt her entire life, her collection of plans and dreams for her future. Talking like this helped keep her grounded in the present.
"I enjoy these, you know?" she said, as they neared the stairs at the edge of the Hightown markets. "Our little talks." The view was always impressive, even if Lowtown was not particularly idyllic.
"I do as well." Cullen winced. "I'll be the first to admit I don't have many friends. I'm glad I can count you among them."
"My friends are limited as well," she said, and was met with an immediate look of skepticism from the Knight-Commander. "Real ones, that is. People I can really talk to. Some have gone far away, and others..." She let the thought fade away. How many times had she wondered what might've happened if she hadn't become Viscountess? Enough to know that it was madness. What was done was done.
"I've been meaning to thank you," Cullen said, a touch more awkwardly than before. "For quite some time, actually. Thought today would be as good as any day."
"Oh?" She lifted her eyebrows. "What have I done?"
"You... helped me keep my faith," he said. The words seemed hard for him to part with, difficult to admit. "In Meredith's last days, I started to question my purpose, the life of the templar. In Ferelden, I... saw things, so many terrible things, and it was because of them that I was led astray for so long." She knew a little of that story, though he'd never really shared all of it with her. Part of the legend of the Fifth Blight, when the Ferelden Circle Tower fell to the influence of demons. He'd come into contact with Elissa Cousland and her companions, but only at the end of the ordeal. Sophia had never dared press him for more of it.
"I thought, for a time," he continued, "that I would renounce my vows to the Order, live a life as something other than a templar, but... you inspired me. Inspired many of my brothers and sisters. I will gladly continue to serve the Order, and you, when you move on from being a Viscountess, or a Queen..."
She shook her head slightly at that, looking out and away at the city below her. "I'm still not sure about that. Any of it. It's not as though my faith has never wavered."
"Only the strongest of faiths survive the fires of doubt." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "And yours did. That's all that matters." She let that sit for a moment, at which point Cullen apparently decided he'd reached his limit of sharing his thoughts. He cleared his throat, awkward again. "I should get back. Preparations to make, of course."
"I'll see you tomorrow then, Cullen."
"I look forward to it, my Queen."
Just one more breath. One more breath. One more...
One more breath was all she could seem to focus on at a time. How could so much have happened in just a few hours?
They stripped Cullen's body of his armor, carrying his corpse as their banner up the steps towards Hightown. A red banner, coated in blood. They'd erupted like a volcano from underneath her city. Apparently their attempts to root out their bases in the tunnels had been futile. No doubt they had help on the inside, from within the Order, as they could be seen sending barges loaded with troops out to the Gallows, to overwhelm whatever templar force remained to protect them. They wouldn't stand a chance.
She'd been so foolish, so stupid. She sent Ash away to protect the people, to try to rally their forces in Lowtown, but the battle was lost before it ever began. For all she knew she'd sent him to his death, and all she could think about was what Nostariel would say, seeing her be so reckless with his life. One more breath, in and out. She had to focus, and lead this defense. They were formed up at the top of the stairs, guards and infantry and nobles and the last few of Kirkwall's true templars. They barred the way to Hightown.
A man emerged from the front rank of the Red Templar army, clad in glittering armor imbued with red lyrium, a full helm obscuring his face. The greatsword across his back was twice the width of Vesenia, throbbing with some corrupted energy or magic. She had her own enchantment, something she'd commissioned to be done on Lucien's advice. Vesenia now glowed white hot, and would burn through any of these monsters that dared come any closer.
The man removed his helm, revealing a familiar face, that of a grizzled warrior with short, dark hair. His eyes had once been blue, but now they were tinted red, along with the veins bulging down his forehead and along his neck. "You cannot resist, Queen," Carver Hawke said, gesturing back behind him to where Cullen was lashed to a pole, arms bound above his head. "The false Order has been cut down. Burned away. Only a few of their number remain with you. This city that harbored them will fall, and the ascension of the Red Templars will be complete."
He drew his sword, leveling it at her. "Lay down your arms. Not all of you need to die. Just enough for the Elder One to hear this call."
William arrived at her side, touching her shoulder and leaning in. "Your word is sent, Sophia. You think they'll come?"
Sophia nodded exactly once. It wasn't a question of if, but rather how soon. And how long could they survive the onslaught. "Kirkwall stands together against you," she said, raising her voice so that Carver could hear her. "You will not receive a surrender from us. You will not break us."
"You've already lost." Carver lowered the helmet back down over his head. "Struggling will only cause you more suffering before the end."
He lifted his hand nonchalantly, and his red knights charged, surging around him and smashing against their line.
Just one more night. One more night. One more...
One more night seemed like an impossibility at this point. But Sophia had felt the same way the night before. She brought Vesenia down hard, as hard as her weary arms could muster on the head of a red knight, the enchantment cleaving the corrupted woman's helmet and much of her head in two. Planting her boot against the breastplate, she shoved the body backwards, kicking off of the barricade and delaying two more enemy soldiers from trying their hand next. They met spears from the city guard, and Sophia pulled herself back from the front to catch her breath.
She wrenched off her crested helmet, pushing sweat-slicked golden hair from her face and planting the tip of her sword into a crack in the stone street for support. The night air was cool, chilled by winter's onset, and it helped keep her from collapsing, from retching again. Their line at the top of the stairs had collapsed, but not before others behind them had erected usable defenses they could retreat to. Many had paid for those defenses with their lives on the front line, or in the rear guard as they pulled back, and Sophia herself would've been overwhelmed and killed if William hadn't pulled her from the fight. Now they held the line at three points leading to the Keep, where the entire civilian population of Hightown was, for the moment, protected.
It had only been a few days, but it felt like a lifetime, cutting down red templars until her arms were numb, wading through their aura of corruption until she was sick to her stomach. She couldn't imagine what it had to be like for mages. There were none left in Hightown, a fact the severely wounded in particular were keenly aware of. Somehow Sophia had managed to avoid the worst of it, but like the barricades, her armor wouldn't last forever, especially not as exhaustion took hold.
"Sophia!" someone called out from behind her. William was riding her way, bringing her horse alongside him, his helmet pulled off and tucked under his arm. They'd managed to get the rest of the horses inside the Keep with the nobles, as they honestly had more value right now. The Queen pulled in one more breath, and righted herself.
"What's happened?"
"Our middle is collapsing," he relayed, urgently. "They won't hold much longer."
"Maker preserve us," she whispered under her breath. She slipped her helmet back down into place, hefting her sword. "Let's go."
The rode the short distance required to reach the central barricade, the one spanning the widest point and thus the most difficult to defend, right in front of the courtyard and steps leading up to the Queen's Keep. Sophia wheeled her horse about to see red templars spilling over the top at three different points, with a fourth steadily giving way. They were high enough here, with a clear enough view below, that Sophia could still see the lights on the ships in the distance. Still stuck beyond her own city's chains. She fought against the sinking feeling in her chest.
The stars were still out, though. Sophia would've offered a prayer, put her voice to the Chant, but she needed every breath. She'd have to hope the thought would do.
She dismounted, leaving her horse to a soldier to pull back to the Keep, and waded into the fight. William remained atop his horse, hacking down three red templars one after the other. Sophia cut down two, the second a shadow with blades of red lyrium for arms. He found them severed when Sophia parried, leaving him with nothing to turn aside her thrust. Around her, guards and true templars and militia fighters turned and rallied, and for a moment it was a pure pitched battle, chaos and carnage.
Steadily they pushed them back, Sophia leading the way with efficient, precise cuts, not even thinking anymore, just acting on instinct. She felled another knight, dodging sideways and slicing cleanly through his left leg. She drove her blade down through his chest once he was on his back, and a triumphant cry went up from the defenders, the momentum carrying them back to their barricade.
And then suddenly a great hulking creature blasted right through with a fist like solid rock. It slammed into Sophia on its way, sending her and three others flying back across the street onto their back. Dazed, she struggled to lift her head, only to find the hideous sight of a behemoth in the gaping hole in their wall. She'd only heard reports of their strength from the Inquisition's experience with them at Haven. They were as horrible as she imagined.
In an instant the battle went from a turning tide to an utter flood. Sophia got back to her feet just in time to backstep away from a knight's lyrium-encrusted fist. Her swing in the opening was disrupted by a horror's barrage of shards. They clattered off her armor, leaving her unharmed by throwing off her attack. Vesenia burned into the shoulder of the knight, not close enough to the neck or heart to end him.
Fighting through the wound, the knight smashed his fist into Sophia's side before she could withdraw her blade, the force enough to dent her armor on the left side and nearly cave it in. She slid her sword free, trying and failing to gasp in a breath through the slit in her helmet. William rode past, landing a slash to the back of the knight's neck where the warped armor had left him vulnerable, and Sophia finished him off with a thrust through his midsection.
Pain suddenly bloomed across her upper back, where a morning star struck her with full force, forcing Sophia down onto her knees. She swung blindly, Vesenia finding only the red templar's heavy shield and clanging off. The shield lurched forward, catching her across the chest and head and spilling her onto her back. She raised her sword in an attempt to block a killing blow, but William cut the red templar's hand clean off at the wrist first. He dropped his shield and drew a knife in the now free hand, attempting to dive onto Sophia, but she was able to lift her sword and let the red templar's weight drive it through his chest.
After he'd stilled, Sophia shoved him off of her and struggled back to her knees. All around her the defenders were falling, fleeing for the Keep, and on the sides they were breaking as well, no doubt hearing of the impending defeat in their middle. They couldn't hope to hold here any longer.
William rode up beside Sophia, offering his hand down. "There's nothing more we can do here, Sophia."
She pulled herself up, taking one last look at the chains and finding them still blocking Lucien from her. Turning away, she let herself be pulled up into the saddle with him, and they fled for the open doors of the Keep.
Just one more hour. One more hour. One more...
One more hour, and the sun would come up. And the Inquisition's army would be here. Her lookouts in the towers of the Keep reported that the chains had gone down, and their rescuers were landing troops on the docks, fighting their way up through Lowtown. Sophia hated to think of the murderous ascent that awaited them. Packed formations of spears and knights behind them, how many lives would it take to break them? Would it be enough? Every minute they were held in check another devastating injury was inflicted here.
The taste of healing potions hadn't fully washed out the taste of bile in her throat, but it at least came close. She didn't remember ever being this tired. Not when the Qunari had attacked, not when she fought a desperate battle to overthrow Meredith. Her wounds weren't nearly as significant as what some of the others had gone through, but they were steadily draining her, along with the lack of sleep.
How could anyone sleep, with the incessant pounding on the door. The behemoth outside was relentless, it never tired, and a constant team was required on the door to brace it. So far, it had held, but there were shadows crawling on the towers. Her lookouts were starting to disappear, anyone who wandered alone in the Keep cut down in a dark hallway. Picked off, one by one. They couldn't spare the manpower to hunt them down.
William came to sit beside her, bloodied and weary, but still able to fight if the enemy broke through. "Whatever happens next, Sophia... we made them pay for every inch they took."
"You'll have to forgive me if I find little comfort in that." She would not take solace in the amount of death she'd dealt before her own, not even when it was corrupted templars being felled, people who by all accounts appeared to be lost entirely. Without hope of redemption. Perhaps their army would be less capable of ravaging and destroying elsewhere, but if they succeeded in destroying her city, everything she'd spent her life to build... she couldn't bring herself to think beyond that.
They sat in silence, wasting no more breath on words, just trying to recover in time for the next battle. Their last, if the red templars forced their way inside. Sophia had felt a shifting relationship with death over the years. In the past, she hadn't feared it much, despite her responsibilities, despite the weight placed on her for the future. It was always so distant, a faraway dream of ruling Kirkwall when she was no longer a young woman. In those years she had always been a warrior before she was the Viscount's daughter, and a warrior had to be willing to face death if it came for her.
But now... she didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to be a warrior anymore. She was a Queen. The Inquisition wanted her to be a Divine. She'd been so close to a different life, a happier life, and now these red templars were going to tear that away from her, tear her away from him. She was terrified of dying, of losing the opportunities that seemed so close now. Of making Lucien go through that pain. She'd glimpsed it in his eyes after the Arishok had nearly killed her. She hoped she would never have to see it again.
And then suddenly the behemoth's smashing against the door stopped. Heavy footfalls like drum beats carried it away, away from the Keep. Sophia knew that was supposed to come as relief, but instead she only felt dread, as she knew where it was going. What it was going to do.
"Excellency!" a courier said, breathless as she careened towards Sophia and William, who were already on their feet. "The Inquisition has broken through! They're pushing towards the Keep!"
"That beast will tear through their lines," William said.
Sophia already knew what she was planning to do. What had to be done. "Bring the horses," she commanded. "My Companions will ride out beside me. One last charge into their flank." Their numbers were too few to break the enemy themselves, but maybe if they did enough, the Inquisition could get through before they were killed.
No one questioned the order. No one wanted to perish here without a fight. The horses were fresh, unused for the duration of the battle, and the Queen's Companions had yet to truly show what they were capable of. Sophia could still hear knights beyond the door, but they would break under the lance, she was certain of it.
They mounted up before the door, with enough room to make an effective charge. Sophia sheathed Vesenia for a lance, her own enchanted in much the same way her blade was, with a tip that glowed white hot in the presence of corruption. The Companions formed up beside her in a wedge formation, their formerly shining armor battered and cracked and bloodstained. Sophia's own was damaged and barely holding up, but there was no time to make any repairs. The behemoth was out there, smashing through Inquisition ranks, and Sophia was not about to let that stand.
"Let them come," she said, dropping her helm back into place.
The door was unlocked and unbarred, guards and militia infantry fleeing from it as it burst open, red templar knights and infantry suddenly charging inside. Sophia lifted her lance, and then leveled it at her enemy. "For Kirkwall!" The battle cry went up around her, and they kicked their heels in, charging straight ahead. Sophia's lance punched clean through the head of the first knight, dropping her instantly, the others pummeled aside by the Companions and cleaned up by the ranks of guards and militia that charged out behind them.
Once the armored horses built momentum, there was no stopping them, not from the disorganized mob of red templars that thought to easily overwhelm them. The Queen and her Companions trampled them underfoot, lanced them down, left them to die. They rounded a corner, renewing the charge as they crossed an open area of street between the two conflicts, just as the sun's first light broke over the rooftops ahead of them, reflecting off their armor, bathing them in a golden glow. The red templars threw everything they had at the Inquisition, the behemoth at their center, swinging and stabbing and killing with nearly every blow.
There, in the middle of them, she saw him, and though she couldn't be sure, she thought he saw her too, charging right for him. She lanced one of the archers, her weapon picking him up and tossing him through the air into his allies. The thundering cavalry line smashed into the rear of the red templar formation, and their infantry desperately tried to get out of the way or form some kind of defense. There was none against this charge. The militia followed behind, making it an all out melee in the wake of the cavalry. They couldn't possibly keep up, and soon the horses were surrounded by red templars on all sides. To stop now was to be overwhelmed and killed.
Sophia charged straight for the behemoth, glowing lance poised to strike through its heart. It turned, leaving the Inquisition behind to deal with knights and shadows, pushing red templars aside to better face the Queen. She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the ache in her arm and keeping it steady, on target, drowning every noise besides her breathing and the thunder of hooves. The behemoth reared back for a strike, too early, and for a moment Sophia could envision the kill, one swift, clean blow.
But it wasn't too early. The fist of red lyrium smashed down into the ground, a pulse of corruption going out, and spikes like thick metal stakes erupted from the ground all around it. Sophia's horse was impaled from underneath, momentum stopped cold, and she was pitched over forward out of the saddle, losing her grip on the lance. She flipped over and landed hard on her back, suddenly trapped in a tiny arena with her monstrous opponent.
She rolled over just in time to avoid being crushed in one blow, drawing her sword as she rose to her feet. The sounds of desperate battle were all around her, blocked by the wall of red lyrium spikes. The behemoth's opposite arm was a sort of two pronged claw or blade, lighter and swifter than the giant maul of a fist on the other side. It swung this for her, Sophia's deflection barely adequate, and she almost lost her feet. The fist came down next, forcing her to dodge to the side, and she did so in time to dart in and make a swing across its chest, the enchanted blade opening up a burning line across it.
It howled, and Sophia went for a thrust, trying to end it immediately. She'd overstayed her welcome; the fist of red lyrium swiped sideways and smashed her away, lifting her into the air and tossing her until she struck the inside of the red lyrium wall, the force of the blow taking her helmet right off. She crumpled to the ground, the world spinning, a sick feeling heavy in her gut.
She stumbled sideways away from being smashed, the tip of her sword lingering near the ground while she struggled to raise it. The pronged blades came in at her, faster than she could react to. She shifted Vesenia, trying to block it aside but instead getting caught in between the blades. She drove the right one wide, but the left struck her, piercing through her weakened armor and sinking into her abdomen on the left side. It didn't pierce all the way through, as Sophia was driven back into the lyrium wall first. The sickness from the lyrium blade stabbing into her was almost enough to overwhelm her, but she held onto consciousness and kept her feet.
She turned Vesenia sideways, and cut horizontally, burning through the blade until she was cut free. Sophia tried to lift her sword for an attack, but her legs gave out first, sending her to the ground on her side. Her sword fell beside her, as both of Sophia's hands went to the blade of lyrium in her. She curled in on herself, trying to wrench it free. It wouldn't matter, as she wasn't going to be able to move away from being crushed this time.
From over the side of the lyrium wall, somehow a templar was thrown over inside with her. A true templar, with a cracked shield and a flail. She was plainly wounded as well, dripping blood as she landed, but she skidded to a halt in front of Sophia, her shield glowing white just as the fist fell. It bounced away with a deafening crack, both shield and red lyrium fist shattering entirely, and the woman's arm clearly broke under the strain. She ignored it, calling down a smite like a bolt of lightning from above, leaving the entire front of the behemoth scorched and burning. She followed with an upwards swing of her flail, her templar abilities blasting pieces off from the monster's face.
The behemoth staggered back, wounded but not defeated, but the templar did as well, drained heavily by her efforts. She fought to stay up, but in the end she sank down to the ground, clutching at her wounds. Sophia still couldn't manage to rise above hands and knees. She'd withdrawn the blade from her side partway, but the pain had only spiked, temporarily sapping her strength. Just beyond her momentary prison, she could hear a familiar blade, hacking through the red lyrium wall of spikes trying to block the world out...
The enchantment on Everburn was both ancient and powerful, and the force of Lucien's strength behind it was just enough. Again and again the blade struck, scarlet crystals flying from the impacts, until finally the sword itself burst through, close enough for Sophia to feel the heat radiating from its white-hot edge. It withdrew again with a grinding hiss, and a moment later, there was a heavy impact from the other side. Lucien threw his shoulder into the fault line he'd created, and the large crack in the wall spiderwebbed once, twice.
On the third impact, he crashed through in a rain of red shards, landing solidly. His eyes, wide and desperate at the gap in his helm, found hers for a split second before the behemoth was upon him, thrusting forward with its remaining long spike and a half. A swift arc of Everburn parried, knocking the blow off its trajectory hard enough to crack the lyrium. With a hard step in, Lucien reversed the momentum of his sword, bringing it back down on the same spot.
With a sound not unlike breaking glass, the second lyrium blade shattered under the force, cracks traveling up the length of the behemoth's arm, the crystals flaring an angry shade as they ruptured. The creature staggered back, lashing out defensively as it sensed the tide turning against it; its spiked foot caught an unlucky blow to Lucien's leg, which buckled, taking him to a knee.
Even there, though, he wasn't defenseless, shifting his grip on Everburn until he was holding the blade in his hands, leaning forward to catch the back of the once-templar's knee with the crossguard and pull. Ordinarily, it would have been an annoyance at best, but the behemoth was already off-balance, and this only destabilized it further. All it needed was a push, and it would topple.
Just one more swing. One more swing. One more...
One more effort, and this would be over. Sophia had to believe that when the rest of this lyrium came down, it would be Inquisition soldiers, and her soldiers, surrounding them, and not the red templars overwhelming everyone. She didn't know where she dredged the strength up from, but her hand went back to the lyrium blade in her and pulled it free, a splotch of blood landing on the stone street beside it, but as soon as it left her hand she felt her head clear. The pain lingered, weighing down her limbs, but she could ignore that. What was a little more?
Her right hand closed around the hilt of her sword. Her left helped push her to her feet, and then she charged forward, blade low, humming and asking for one last kill. She swept it up in a broad arc, cleaving across the behemoth's chest and sending a small shower of red lyrium and blood into the air. The creature moaned and tipped backwards, defenseless, and Sophia drove her sword up into its belly, piercing straight through and out the other side. She let it slide out once more as the behemoth collapsed onto its back, throwing a cloud of dust into the air and shaking the ground where it fell.
With its death, the shards of red lyrium surrounding her cracked and shattered, and all around her the Inquisition was pressing the attack. Her surviving Companions ran down as many as they could; Sophia could spot William riding at the center of them, untiring. The enemy was in full retreat, running for the gates.
Vesenia slipped from her hands and clattered against the ground. The templar that had saved her removed her helm. Séverine offered a weak smile to her, keeping pressure on her own wounds. Sophia smiled back, and then tried to take the two steps needed to get to Lucien. Her legs failed her on the second, and she fell towards him.
Still on one knee, he caught her with a soft grunt, their armor clacking together and jarring their wounds, though he hardly seemed to notice. Lucien shifted, freeing one of his arms long enough to pull the helm from his head and let it fall to the ground with a ringing clang. And then his hands were at her face, gentle even despite the gauntlets he wore with his armor. A purple bruise darkened on his cheek, the deep shadows of fatigue sitting in the crescent-moons of skin under his eyes. His thumbs feathered over her cheekbones; he leaned down until his brow touched hers.
"Sophia," he murmured, an unfamiliar tremble in his voice. "My love." Though there was pain and anguish in his eyes, brightened by unshed tears, it was not the pain she had so feared putting there. Somehow, despite everything, the worst had not come to pass. The battle was over, and the both of them alive.
"I promised," she said, suddenly aware that it wasn't just like she said, and she needed to make it that way. Her tears were not unshed, for she'd been holding them back since all of this started. Ever since he left. "I promised you, whatever I was faced with..."
She ran out of breath, and the constriction in her throat wasn't helping. But she had to get up. She got one foot underneath her. If they worked together, both of them could make it off the ground. She leaned as much of her weight on him as she could, but before long they were both on their feet.
"Still here," she whispered. If they hadn't been touching, he wouldn't have heard her. "Still standing. And waiting for you."
"I'm sorry I made you wait so long." Lucien shifted; he was clearly favoring the leg the behemoth had hit. Most likely it was broken in some fashion or another, but it didn't show on his face. Leaning down, he touched his lips to hers, soft and momentary, moving back only a hairsbreadth to speak. "I made you a promise, too, but right now, I think we're needed elsewhere." He shifted partially away, letting one hand slide to her back, and they both faced the battlefield that Hightown had become.
They were always needed somewhere. For the moment, at least it was not in battle. The army had it well in hand, the sounds of battle fading and steadily being replaced with the cheers of the victorious. Despite the chill of the morning winter air, the sun was warm at their backs. Rest would have to wait, for it was a new day in Kirkwall. And as always, there was work to be done.