Chapter Text
The darkspawn didn’t wait until dawn.
Will was resting in Hannibal’s arms, lightly sleeping, warm and happy, when the end began. It was the middle of the night when the warning bells rang through the Arl’s estate, a deafening chime of alarm, the warning system that the City of Denerim was under attack.
Hannibal was already awake when the sound echoed through their guest chamber, and he was swift and speed and grace as he whipped the blankets from their twining bodies and lifted Will from the mattress.
Will’s eyes opened, confused as his brain caught up with the troublesome noise, and then Hannibal was pulling his shirt over his head, pressing his vest over his shoulders and helping Will step into his trousers before pulling them up. He pressed a quick kiss to Will’s forehead and left him sitting dumbly on the edge of the bed. Will watched as Hannibal moved to heave on the layers of heavy templar armor. All he could think for a moment was that, when this was all over, he would make Hannibal rid himself of the costume. He would enjoy seeing Hannibal in something less bulky. Will was imagining his demon in something sleek and easily removable when he finally, fully startled into wakefulness.
The bells were going off. The Blight!
Will leapt from the bed and helped Hannibal buckle into the rest of his armor, feeling the fool for his daydreaming. When Hannibal had tightened the sheath at his belt, Will set his palm to his templar’s chest. “Is it happening, Hannibal?” His voice wasn’t small or scared, just jarred by the cadence of certainty.
Hannibal answered by wrapping his arms around Will and dipping him back into a kiss. Then he handed Will his cherry wood staff. It was a strange time to feel the urge to smile, but Will stood there all the same, lips spread in a goofy grin as he stared at the man who had come so far with him, and the demon who would take him even farther.
“Let’s go, then,” Will said.
Hannibal’s eyes glittered as he answered, “After you.”
When Will opened the door into the hallway, the sound of the warning bells intensified, and they stepped into the chaos, as ready as one could ever be for the fight of a lifetime. Soldiers were running past, a constant clanking of armor and weaponry that contested the chiming bells. When Will spotted a flash of dark, bobbing hair, he reached out and grabbed a handful of Katz. She whipped around and let Will pull her out of the muddle of soldiers sweeping by like a metallic river.
“Will!” she panted. Her leather griffin gear was skewed slightly off-kilter on her shoulders. She looked to have woken up and thrown on her armor as quickly as he and Hannibal had. “It’s the Blight. It’s in the city.”
“What?!” Will exclaimed, throwing a look of shock at Hannibal behind them. “What time is it? Chiyoh said we had until dawn.”
“Chiyoh was wrong,” Katz answered hastily, tugging at her leathers and tucking her amulet into her undershirt. “We all were. It’s just past three in the morning, and Denerim is under attack.”
“Oh no,” Will groaned. “What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know, but I’m headed to find out. Do you two have your gear?”
He gripped his staff and stood a bit straighter. “We’re ready."
Katz nodded, her hand resting at the hilt of her sword. “Then let’s get outside to the courtyard. That’s where the soldiers are headed and where we’ll find Margot.”
On Will’s okay, Katz, Will, and Hannibal cut their way through the onslaught of soldiers, weaving and winding through the hallways and down the stairs until they were bustled through the front doors of the Arl’s estate. The first thing Will noticed was the smell of smoke in the air. The second thing he noticed was the ominous orange glow hanging in the night sky. The third thing he noticed was the violent surge of tingling in his stomach. He heaved over at the feeling, Katz too, and Hannibal pulled them both to the side.
“Are you sensing darkspawn nearby?” Hannibal asked them, leaning close to hear, for the courtyard was a cacophony of sounds, and the bells were still ringing.
Will breathed in and out, deep and slow, and then he forced himself to stand. Katz revived her stature shortly after. “Darkspawn,” Will rasped, Katz nodding wordlessly beside him. They didn’t need to add any details about the sheer number of darkspawn each of them could detect. They were simply everywhere, coming from every direction. If Will didn’t know better, he would say he was in the middle of one of his archdemon visions. Maybe he was, because that was certainly the city on fire that had the sky orange and the air full of smoke.
Hannibal touched his back, and Will sent him a grateful, sad smile, but there wasn’t much time for anything more than that, because Katz spotted Margot at the front of the courtyard. She pointed and they quickly made their way to reach her side.
The Queen Regent was standing atop a raised statue, looking out over the armies gathering in the courtyard. Alana was standing on the ground at her side. As Will and the others ran up to join them, Margot climbed down from her perch, her pretty face pinched with worry, but unmistakably strong. She would not cower from this. There was no turning back for her or for anyone. What they had feared was already upon them, and now the only choice they had was to act.
“Chiyoh has already gone with the Arl and a group of his best soldiers to scout the damage so far,” Margot told them. “Everyone else is gathering here and waiting for orders, but I wanted to wait for you.”
She was looking at Will. He turned around to look at the forces grouping together outside the estate. The werewolves and Witherfang were garnering their fair share of spectators, but no more than Gideon’s dwarves or the First Enchanter Bedelia’s mages.
Will felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned back to Margot with tears in his eyes. “You have gathered an army to replace the one lost at Ostagar, Grey Warden,” she told him. “Let us pray that it will be enough.”
Will nodded, swallowing hard. These were the souls they had worked so hard to muster, and now it was time to test the virility of their efforts. “The four of us will move ahead of the armies, meet up with Chiyoh for her assessment. It will be quicker to get where we need to be if we're away from the bulk of the army,” he said. “And for what we’re doing, we need as much speed and stealth as we can get.”
Margot shocked him by bowing her head slightly in approval, and then she shocked him even more by grabbing Alana and dipping her into a kiss, almost an exact mirror of the kiss Will had shared with Hannibal in their room. Alana melted into the embrace, and when Margot finally released her and set her straight on her feet again, he was treated to the rare sight of her blushing. He laughed. It suited her. Then, naturally, he remembered how she’d ridden him for his ‘spirit of Warden’ only a few hours ago and his blush eclipsed hers at a clipping speed.
“Be careful,” Alana whispered to Margot, and after Margot kissed her softly one last time, she gently shoved her away.
“Get going,” Margot told them. “We’ll be following shortly behind.” Her eyes were shining fiercely, and Will had the fleeting thought that Margot might make an excellent Grey Warden. “Good luck,” their Queen Regent said, and then the four companions disembarked together from the Arl’s estate, Will looking over his shoulder to send their hodgepodge army a final glance.
They didn’t have far to walk before the damages began to present themselves: the air grew thicker and the sky grew brighter with the unnatural glow of flame reflected on smoke. It was right after they turned the corner – blighted, blasted corners! – at the end of the Arl’s estate block, that they spied their first taste of what the Blight really meant.
The front gates of the City of Denerim were being swarmed by a rush of darkspawn, and the Arl’s soldiers were barely holding the line. Will exchanged a glance with the others before they charged forward, weapons held at the ready. Right as they joined the line, the darkspawn broke through.
The horde at the gates was relatively small, and made up entirely of grunts: smaller darkspawn with no determined Alpha, let loose to randomly destroy. Not the worst of their kind to fight, but certainly not without their dangers. Several soldiers went down at once as the first of the grunts leapt at them, clawing at helmets and scraping at the flesh beneath. But many darkspawn were struck down, as well. Will commanded his mana through his staff and set fire to several darkspawn at once, and he could see Katz running forward, into the fray, a spinning top of sharp blade and brute strength. Alana stayed close to Will, setting up energy barriers where she could to protect the soldiers, and Hannibal remained before both of them, knocking back the darkspawn that tried to attack the mages. Will watched him slice down a dozen darkspawn grunts with ease before the Redcliffe line was able to reform. Will sighed in relief when it seemed, at least for the moment, no more darkspawn were trying to breach the gates.
Katz snaked her way back through the soldiers when they were in the clear, Chiyoh following at her heels. She had a smudge of blood on her face, but in the dimness of the night, Will couldn’t tell whether it was hers or not.
“Wardens,” Chiyoh said, nodding to them respectfully.
“Chiyoh,” Will answered. “How does it look?”
She looked over her back for a brief moment and then nodded their party away from the mass of soldiers. Will could see the Arl of Redcliffe spotting them, and he nodded his head, ushering him to join. Once they were grouped in a circle, Chiyoh spoke.
“From what I could tell, their army has two Generals, leading two separate hordes through the city,” she said.
“Hordes are already in the city?” Katz asked, appalled.
“Yes,” answered Chiyoh grimly. “They slaughtered the on-duty Denerim patrol and were able to sneak through the city and position themselves before the warning bells were activated. By then, half of Denerim was already on fire.”
Will shook his head and felt Hannibal’s hand graze across his back. He couldn’t imagine how his nerves would be revolting without that quiet strength to keep him upright. “Where is the archdemon?"
“I saw it once,” Chiyoh told him, “flying low over the city and breathing fire. But then the gates were under attack and I couldn’t track where it landed.”
“So what’s the plan?” Katz asked.
“The plan is this,” Chiyoh began. “I will go after the archdemon. The four of you take out the Generals. They’re powerful darkspawn Emissaries, but if you eliminate them, not only will the darkspawn hordes be weakened, there’s a chance the archdemon will be easier to kill.”
“Arl Garrett,” Will said, turning to the Redcliffe Arl, “can your men hold the gate?”
The man was standing straight as a rod, his face a riddle of power and cruelty, but he nodded his head with confidence. “Redcliffe can hold the Denerim gates. No more darkspawn will be getting into the city on our watch.”
“Good,” Will said. He turned to Alana and Katz. “If we split up, we can each go after a General, and knock them out in twice the time for Chiyoh.”
Alana and Katz looked at one another and then nodded their agreement. “Me and Alana can take out an Emissary, no problem. Right?” Katz asked, nudging Alana with an elbow.
Alana nudged Katz back in the ribs. “I almost feel bad for the darkspawn that get in our way.”
Will smiled and looked up at Hannibal. “What do you think?”
Hannibal, who had remained relatively quiet since they’d left the safety of their chamber, smiled. “A mage in each group, with a warrior to protect them. A brilliant plan of attack.”
They smiled at one another and, when they finally looked back to the others, they were fixing Will and Hannibal with impatient, albeit amused, expressions. Chiyoh, however, was not watching any of them, for her head was reclined back, observing the sky.
Will followed her gaze when he heard the roar and the steady, heavy flapping of giant wings through the air. A flash of dark red scales flew over their heads and Will’s hair picked up in the gust, his curls blowing back from his face. In a second, it was past them, and as its silhouette stood out against the orange sky, a jet of fire burst from its mouth. Will watched it travel southwest from the gates, until it appeared to perch atop the highest roof that could be seen along the Denerim skyline.
“It’s landed on top of Fort Drakon,” Chiyoh said, turning back to address the others. “This is where I leave you.” She reaffirmed her grip on her sword, bouncing lightly on her heels, as if she could hardly bear to wait a moment longer to chase after the archdemon. “Take down the Generals,” she told them. “And then come to Fort Drakon. If I fail, it is up to one of you.” She bowed her head to them. “Fellow Wardens, you have done admirably, and I wish you luck.”
Katz bowed to Chiyoh in turn. “In war, victory.”
Chiyoh turned to walk away, but as she did, Will heard her yell over her shoulder, “In peace, vigilance.”
Will watched her figure disappear into the smoke, and then he whispered, to himself: “In death, sacrifice.”
“Think she can do it?” Katz asked.
“I hope so,” responded Will. “Because I haven’t the slightest idea how to kill a dragon.”
The four companions lingered silently for a moment, each realizing, perhaps, that it might be the last time they were all together, and all alive. Alana was the first to break, rushing forward and throwing her arms around Hannibal. Will watched, wide-eyed, as she squeezed the templar, wondering if she would squeeze him like that if she knew who he really was.
“I’d tell you to take care of him, but I know you will,” Alana said. Hannibal, despite the eye twitch, actually patted her back.
“Good luck, Alana,” Hannibal said, and Alana pulled out of his arms and moved to Will, cupping his face.
“Will,” she said, her bright blue eyes wickedly beautiful. “Don’t die.”
He nodded and she leaned in to kiss his cheek, then stepped back. Katz was slapping Hannibal on the arm and leaning in to whisper something in his ear. It must have been both lewd and instructive, for Hannibal’s face read like someone equally offended and informed. He tucked a strand of hair behind Katz’s ear, and Will thought he detected a blush in her cheeks. Then she turned to Will.
“Katz,” he began, and she walked up to him, clasping her hands on his shoulders.
“Will Graham,” she laughed. “If you don’t get a statue after this, I swear to the Maker, I’ll chisel one myself.” She hugged him so tight there was a string of seconds when he couldn’t breathe. She whispered in his ear before she pulled away, “Let’s do it for Jack. And Price and Zeller, and every fucking Warden that died at Ostagar.”
When she pulled away, her eyes weren’t brimming with tears and her lip wasn’t trembling. She was fearsome and she was ready. “I’ll see you at the Fort,” Will said.
Katz laughed, winked, and turned to Alana.
Will stepped closer to Hannibal, just to feel the warmth of him. And then their foursome split in half, Katz and Alana disappearing into the burning maze of Denerim streets. Hannibal turned to face Will.
“Alone at last,” Hannibal said. “Last chance.” He patted his shoulder with a leer Will found both endearing and seductive, for a multitude of reasons.
“You can throw me around as often as you like, once we get through this night,” Will answered.
Hannibal’s face fell to seriousness as he considered their route ahead. “We must take out this General.”
“Any idea where it might be?” Will asked, eyes sweeping across the burning buildings before them.
“Perhaps your Grey Warden sense could assist in leading us in the correct direction,” Hannibal offered.
Will pressed a hand to his stomach, which hadn’t stopped buzzing uncomfortably since he’d stepped outside the Arl’s estate. “I don’t know,” he said. “There are so many darkspawn, I can’t exactly hone in on subsets.”
“Hmmm,” the templar hummed, and Will had to remind himself not to choose this moment to become distracted by the perfect bow of his lips. “Then I suppose we will have to follow the bodies.”
Hannibal began to lead the way, Will walking at his side. At the crossroads of the first street, they turned in the opposite direction that Katz and Alana had chosen. From there, it was, morbidly enough, a matter of following the bodies. And the darkspawn left a lot of them. It seemed as though they had ripped through the narrow Denerim streets and pulled every warm body from their homes to slice and trample on the way. The humble houses were either smoldering and black with soot or still alight with fire. It was a gruesome scene.
But at least a clear path seemed to be cut. Hannibal lifted Will up by the waist to safely set him on the opposite side of a burning wagon wheel in the road. He wasn’t wearing his templar helmet, hadn’t worn it ever since he’d realized how much Will stared at him when he had it off, most likely, and the soot and sweat was already clinging heavily to his handsome face. Will couldn’t help but reach out his hand and brush the strands from his eyes.
Hannibal grabbed hold of his hand and kissed it. It would have been romantic if not for the stench of smoldering corpses. “I believe the General we seek may be wreaking havoc in the Marketplace,” Hannibal said as he released Will’s hand.
“How can you tell?”
“The smell seems to be a bit worse from that direction,” Hannibal replied, offering his arm.
Will accepted it, and they continued to weave their way through the streets, occasionally stopping to sidestep a barrier of flaming barrels or crumbled building that blocked their path. It was when the streets began to grow wider, and the sounds of battle began to echo through the air, that Hannibal and Will pressed close to the walls, creeping forward with their weapons ready and their minds alert. The Marketplace was close, only a few side streets away.
That’s when Will’s stomach clenched and he heaved forward for an instant before Hannibal caught him.
“Will?” he asked, his voice a concerned rumble beside Will’s ear.
“I can feel it now,” Will said. The clenching began to subside after a few labored breaths, but the awareness remained within a tight coil in his guts. “The General Emissary. I can feel it.”
Hannibal had his hands on Will’s face; his eyes were stricken and dark. “How does it feel?”
Will licked his lips and tried to focus in on the General. “It feels…strong,” he said. “A mage, I think.”
Hannibal rewarded Will’s assessment with a smile, and then he cocked his head, listening for something. Will strained his ears as well, not hearing anything at first, and then –
“Was that a howl?” Will asked.
They had only the warning of a heartbeat, wherein Hannibal pushed Will up against the nearest wall, and then a stampede of werewolves were running past, a violent, teeth-gnashing, growling, pack of fur and rage. Will held his breath, and then they were gone a moment later. Hannibal remained pressed against Will a moment longer than was necessary, much to Will’s appreciation, but then he moved away, looking down the street where the wolves were headed.
“Margot has called in our troops,” Hannibal said.
“Perfect timing,” said Will, tightening his grip on the staff in his hand. “A distraction while we focus on the General.”
A distraction was an accurate depiction of the battle Will and Hannibal found awaiting them in the Marketplace. They cautiously crept around a fiery barrier, ducking behind a smashed-in window shop to observe the scene. Witherfang’s werewolves were lethal, tackling the lesser darkspawn with chomping jaws, their sharp claws gashing deep slices into the grunts’ crude armor. But there were Alpha darkspawn, too, and they were harder to kill. Will watched one of the werewolves pounce on its back, and the Alpha threw him off easily, grabbing it by the neck and sending it crashing to the ground. It fell with its neck at an awkward angle, dead. As they watched from the shadows, many werewolves began to fall. But so did many darkspawn. And then Will spotted the General.
At the same time the General spotted Will.
“Hannibal, move,” Will demanded, and he grabbed his demon, throwing him to the ground and lying over his body just as a bolt of lightning surged from the General’s staff and zapped the wall behind their heads.
They scrambled to their hands and knees, finding the cover of a crumbling, burning wall, before the General sent a second bolt of lightning to strike at them.
“So, I was right about the mage thing,” Will moaned. “What do we do?”
“I think you should kill it,” responded Hannibal casually.
“Well, yeah. But how? It’s stronger than -”
Another lightning bolt lit up the air around them and Will pressed against Hannibal’s chest. Hannibal grabbed Will by the shoulders to look into his eyes. “Do you remember the first time you killed darkspawn, Will?” Hannibal asked, eyes blazing.
“Yes, yes, I remember.”
“So do I,” said Hannibal. “You were beautiful and severe.”
Will remembered how he’d felt that first time. Exhilarated, like he’d been in a trance, and for a while after, he’d felt high on blood lust for the creatures. He had wanted to kill more. He felt his lips pulling into a grin as he answered Hannibal. “I liked killing them.”
“Yes,” Hannibal said. “And think how your strength has grown since that day. Think of your power. The General is no match for you, my love.”
Another flash of lightning sped up the pounding of Will’s heart, but his hand felt less shaky and his head was clearer. “We’ll kill it together,” he said.
Hannibal returned his smile before replying, “We’ll kill it together.”
They moved. Will slammed down his staff as they left the cover of the shop, blasting a stream of fire toward the General, while Hannibal rolled, sword unsheathed, and jumped to his feet to plunge his blade into an approaching darkspawn. There were bodies everywhere, werewolf and darkspawn alike, and Will leapt over a mauled corpse, Hannibal remaining right beside him, dropping any enemy that dare approach.
The General studied the mage and his templar for a stretch, avoiding Will’s fire spells with ease, focusing on the werewolves instead, as though it had no worries concerning Will and Hannibal. And maybe it didn’t, but that was its mistake.
Will swirled his staff above his head, harnessing his mana with such ferocity, his eyelids threatened to flutter shut, but then he made eye contact with Witherfang. From across the burning Marketplace, she caught his gaze, seeing right through their intention as they slowly but surely fought their way closer to the General. She lifted her hands, the tendrils of vines floating about her fingers, and the werewolves all arched their backs and bent back their heads in unison, and they howled. It was a sound so sudden, loud, and threatening, that the General turned its back from Will and Hannibal to send its lightning bolt through the surrounding pack of werewolves and the Forest Spirit herself. And that was their opening.
Will brought down a hail of flames upon the General, and at the same time, he raised a ring of fire round its body, so it had no escape, no respite, only fire upon flame. It lifted its arms, waving its staff and shooting a rabid storm of lightning into the air. Hannibal grabbed Will’s waist and ushered them behind a barrier, just avoiding a darkspawn as a werewolf ripped it to shreds and sent its body to the blood-soaked ground.
But Will wasn’t finished. He brought down his storm of fire until the General was screaming and could no longer hold its staff. And then, when it was weak and burning, Will released his ring of fire and collapsed against Hannibal’s chest. They watched as the werewolves attacked, finishing the job. They brought the Emissary to the ground, and Will could no longer see, but he could hear as they tore into it, sending bits of darkspawn flesh flying through the air. The tingling in Will’s stomach changed frequency abruptly, and he knew the General was dead.
“Hannibal,” Will said, still leaning back against him. “It’s done. Let’s keep moving.”
The templar, arm wrapped around Will’s waist, whispered against his neck. “I’m with you, sweet boy.”
Will indulged a moment of leaning against Hannibal and feeling his warmth at his back, but then he knew they had to head on. One General was down, and all they could do was hope Alana and Katz could take out the second.
With the General dead and still in the midst of being ravaged by the werewolves, the battle in the Marketplace was wild. The lesser darkspawn fell to chaos without their General, and the werewolves were tearing them down in quick succession. Will and Hannibal waited for their path from the Marketplace to clear before leaving their cover, but a sound overhead gave them pause.
“Chiyoh!” Will yelled as he and Hannibal both looked up to the sky.
There was no mistaking the sight as it flew overhead: the dark outline against the orange haze as Chiyoh rode atop the archdemon’s back. It roared and writhed as the Grey Warden clung to its scales. Will watched with held breath as Chiyoh’s sleek silhouette plunged her blade into its back. The archdemon spun in the sky, fire blossoming from its great jaw. The figure on its back clung to the embedded sword for one second, two, but when the archdemon flipped once more, Chiyoh’s grip failed, and as the dragon soared back towards Fort Drakon, Will watched, horrorstruck, as her body broke away from the archdemon and tumbled through the sky, down, down, until she could be seen no more.
“No,” Will whispered.
Chiyoh had failed. Chiyoh had fallen.
It was up to Will and Katz. And he knew he wouldn’t let it be Katz. Hannibal’s hands moved to frame Will’s face, demanding his eyes. “Will, do not lose yourself to fear,” he commanded. “I am with you.”
Will nodded, fighting the nerves sweeping through his body. “I’m okay,” he said, and he might have even meant it, but it didn’t matter. They had to get to Fort Drakon. They had to kill the archdemon.
They ran from the Marketplace, leaving the werewolves to finish off the horde of darkspawn, and re-entered the maze of Denerim side streets, heading southwest for the Fort. But first they had to breach the Palace District, and as they came upon its border, the ground began to tremble in a way Will found eerily familiar.
“Ogres,” Will gasped.
On the wide, stone steps leading up to the Palace District, was an entire horde of Alpha darkspawn and at least a dozen ogres. But their enemies were not the only ones fighting.
A snowflake drifted past Will’s face, and then he saw her. First Enchanter Bedelia and the Circle Mages, attacking the Alphas and Ogres with a steady onslaught of spellwork that had the creatures charging and bellowing in frustration. Hannibal grabbed hold of Will’s hand and began to guide them swiftly through the fight, but Will found it hard to look away from the First Enchanter. He had never seen her fight before. And it was fantastic.
Her staff hit the ground, sending a cone of cold around an Alpha darkspawn, the force of the spellwork making her icy blond hair flutter back from her face. And then she smashed the blunt end of her staff into the creature's frozen body and it shattered into a thousand pieces. She turned, raising a blizzard of snow and ice and wind, bewildering the ogres, so they missed their targets, ramming into each other in their confusion, and falling to their backs. The other mages sent them up into flames, or shocked them with electric pulses, or pummeled them with blasts of energy, crushing, burning, killing. Will’s hair blew into his eyes from the strength of the blizzard, and his cheeks felt chapped pink, but Hannibal glided them through the tumult until they were on the other side, unscathed. Will looked over his shoulder as Hannibal continued to guide them away from the scene, and he watched as the First Enchanter spun her staff in the air, taking out a final ogre before three Alphas suddenly attacked, closing in on her, and Will could no longer see. He found himself hoping she survived, but there was no time to wait and find out, because Hannibal was leading them into a narrow alley.
Once again, Hannibal’s hands were on Will’s face, checking him over for injuries. His eyes were dark and his mouth was a line of tension. Will pressed his palms to his demon’s chest and smoothed over the armor reassuringly. “I’m not hurt, Hannibal,” he said.
Hannibal studied Will’s face a few moments more, and then he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Will’s lips. “See that you remain undamaged, and I will wreck you myself when this is over.”
Will blushed. And then they were on the move once again.
The Palace District was worse off than the Marketplace, looking to have bore the brunt of the archdemon’s flaming roars, and once Hannibal and Will left the alley and entered the main streets, a bombardment of darkspawn and dwarves were battling. Swords cracked against axes as Gideon led his dwarven army against the thick horde.
When Will spotted the Orzammar King, his face was covered in dark blood. The dwarf would eventually die from the darkspawn taint he was coated in, but for now, he was a berserker, a whirlwind of blade and beard. Despite his dwarvish height, he jumped high, latching onto an Alpha’s back and slicing his axe across its throat.
Hannibal stepped in front of Will, cutting down a darkspawn with a graceful sweep of his greatsword, and then he was leading them through the fight with hastened steps. A dwarf nearly knocked Will down as a darkspawn cut opon its guts and sent it wheeling backwards, but Hannibal tightened his hold on Will’s waist and pulled him out of the way just in time.
They traveled so quickly through the Palace District, weaving and winding around foes and dwarves, sidestepping and spell-casting and sword-wielding, that when Hannibal stopped in front of the Fort Drakon doors, Will could hardly believe they had made it so far. His heart was a ceaseless hammer in his chest. They had been running and fighting and swerving and blocking, and now they had come to Fort Drakon, and they need only enter and get to the roof, and then…
An arrow sailing past Will’s head and sinking into the wood of the front doors broke them from their hesitance, and Hannibal threw open the Fort’s doors and pushed Will through.
After slamming the door shut behind them, the templar motioned Will back as he rushed forward. The main floor of the Fort was not empty, and a dozen darkspawn were running at Hannibal and Will. Will watched, mesmerized, as Hannibal struck them down, one by one, spinning and arching his blade, killing each one before it could reach Will.
When his demon was standing amidst a ring of darkspawn corpses, Will ran to him, encircling him in his arms. Because he could. Because Hannibal was his, and he could touch him now, whenever he wanted. And Will always wanted, and would always want.
The bulk of the Fort cleared, they had only take the backstairs up until they found the exit to the roof. They were familiar, at least, with the layout of the prison, thanks to their time spent there, and the rush of memory caused Will to grab a fistful of Hannibal’s hair and kiss him urgently.
Hannibal wrapped Will in his arms and returned the kiss, hard enough and sweetly enough to steal Will’s breath from him, but Will didn’t care. He gladly breathed in Hannibal instead of oxygen. Their lips were warm and their noses were cold from the chilly night air, but their bodies were hot. When Hannibal finally relinquished his hold, Will cursed the blasted Blight for its distractions.
“I just want this to be over,” Will whispered, lips brushing along Hannibal’s jaw.
“Then let us see it finished, my love,” answered Hannibal, and they worked their way through a smattering of bodies to the back steps of Fort Drakon.
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Will and Hannibal both stopped before the door to the roof, and Will remembered his final moments with Peter, the seconds before they had walked through the basement door and Peter had been killed. He looked at Hannibal, his templar and demon, who had traveled with Will to such impossible lengths, allowing Will to forge his own path, keeping him safe but never forcing his own outcomes. Not even now, when Will knew Hannibal wanted nothing more than to drag Will away someplace safe. He was still letting Will make this choice, this final step toward the end of the journey he had chosen to see to the end.
He wanted to say thank you, but those words seemed too small for his feelings, so he said nothing. Instead of words, which might never be enough, he opted for the simplicity of touch. Will took Hannibal’s hand in his and brought it to his cheek. He closed his eyes and Hannibal’s thumb caressed softly over Will’s skin. And then he felt Hannibal’s lips pressing gently over his own. They kissed in the stairwell, a moment’s pause, a quiet, sweet second, protected from the rage that bombarded the other side of the door. Will didn’t want it to end. But like all things, it had to. Everything had to have an ending.
Will ended their kiss, and, faces still close, said: “I’m ready.”
Hannibal smiled, pushed a curl out of Will’s eyes, and nodded.
Will opened the door.
First, he saw was the archdemon, the titanic dragon, standing on all fours in the center of the rooftop. It swung its tail, sending the small group of Denerim soldiers flying off the rooftop. Then, he saw the intense battle happening clear on the other side of the roof. He squinted. It was far away, but he knew their shapes well.
“Katz and Alana are already here!” Will yelled to Hannibal, who was in the middle of plunging his sword into the neck of a darkspawn.
Their companions appeared to be trapped on the other side, surrounded by most of the horde on the roof, while the Denerim soldiers were trying to attack the archdemon. It pawed at them like fodder, scooping them up in its enormous, curved talons, and throwing them into the air. Alana and Katz were so enraptured in their fight, erecting force fields only to have them shattered, cutting down one darkspawn only to have three more heave forwards in attack, that neither noticed the two new arrivals to the rooftop.
But the archdemon noticed, and it turned its reptilian head towards Will with a crook of its long, crimson-scaled neck. Will gasped, stumbling back a step, sickened to be face to face with the image of his nightmares. Red eyes pierced him through, and were Hannibal not there to defend Will with his sword, Will might have been so shocked, a darkspawn could have easily finished him before he’d had a chance to react. As the fates had it, however, Hannibal was there, and he did block the darkspawn attackers while Will experienced his moment of awe and dread. But then, as quickly as it came, it passed, and Will’s knuckles were white around his staff.
This was it, and there was no relaying the inevitable, so Will turned his head to Hannibal, and shouted over the gales of wind from the dragon’s flapping wings. “Cover me!” And then he ran.
Will’s boots were a blur against the rooftop as he headed full-speed toward the archdemon. He could hear Hannibal behind him, the clank of his templar armor and the slashing of his sword as he destroyed any threat to Will before it could touch him. Will sent a blast of fire toward the dragon as he drew closer, and it was then the horrid realization hit him. His fire magic wouldn’t hurt the archdemon. It absorbed into the scales harmlessly. But Will knew what had to be done. Without stopping, he threw down his staff, and without asking, Hannibal thrust his own greatsword into Will’s hand.
The archdemon turned to hack its claws through a team of Denerim soldiers attacking its front, and its giant, spiked tail would have knocked Will right off the roof, but Hannibal had foreseen the event, and when the tail came rushing toward them in a lethal sweep, he picked Will up by the waist and heaved.
Will flew through the air, sword in hand, and landed with a painful thud at the base of the dragon’s tail. For a second, he was so surprised, he couldn’t fathom it. Then his brain caught up with his reality, and he realized Hannibal had just thrown him onto the archdemon’s back! The creature didn’t even feel him!
Will scuttled for a handhold, his one hand busy trying to keep a grip on Hannibal’s heavy sword. He was grateful for his time atop Alana’s scaled back, because he knew how to hold on when the dragon reared back. He nearly fell, but his grip on one of its spikes saved his balance, and as soon as the dragon thumped back down on all fours, Will began to climb further up the its back, crawling and clinging to its spikes with one hand. It still hadn’t noticed Will was there.
He was up high, for the dragon was truly a gargantuan beast, and he could see Alana and Katz below, blocking the flames of the archdemon’s fiery breath as Will watched helplessly from its back. Alana’s force field barely held, and Katz was nearly hit from behind by a darkspawn Alpha, but she swung around in time, severing its ugly head from its shoulders.
And then Will had reached the top of the dragon’s back, and he straddled its neck with his legs, and he held Hannibal’s sword in both hands. The dragon turned suddenly, and Will almost fell, but his grip held true. Now, Will was facing the other direction, and he could see Hannibal on the rooftop below. Hannibal stood there, watching, and Will finally saw his mistake. He had left Hannibal weaponless. He had taken his sword and left Hannibal vulnerable. Will watched in horror, heart racing, as the darkspawn moved behind Hannibal’s back.
“HANNIBAL!” Will screamed from atop the archdemon, but he was too far, and it was too late, and, because Hannibal was looking up to watch Will, he didn’t see it coming.
Will watched as the darkspawn pierced its sword through the break in Hannibal’s armor, straight through his lower back, until it split through the skin of his stomach.
“HANNIBAL!” Will screamed again. The darkspawn kicked Hannibal’s body from its sword, and Hannibal dropped to the ground. With the surge of strength only possible under the duress of tremendous fury, Will stabbed Hannibal’s blade into the neck of the dragon.
The creature roared beneath him and Will’s whole body shook with the vibrations of its outrage, but he didn’t relent. Will pulled out the long blade only to hack through the neck again. Again. The archdemon bucked, its wings flapped violently at its sides, trying to throw off its surprise assailant, but Will wasn’t moving, not until the thing was dead. He kept stabbing it in its neck, and black blood sprayed Will’s shocked-white face, but he hacked and sliced and the grip of the sword was sweaty in his hands, but he had the dragon writhing and bleeding. Will stood up on its back, bracing his legs and praying he wouldn’t fall, and with one final burst of hate-fueled power, Will brought down the greatsword and chopped straight though the archdemon’s neck.
The creature spasmed, and Will was finally thrown to the rooftop, landing with a brutal snap that broke his leg. He cried out with pain, rolling away as the archdemon’s body came crashing to the ground beside him. An impossibly bright, white light broke through the dragon’s severed neck and filled the sky.
Will was blind with the light that he knew must be the old god’s soul, and he held his hand over his eyes until, with a final flash, it disappeared.
He could hear fighting on the other side of the rooftop, Alana and Katz finishing off the remaining darkspawn, but on his side of the roof, Will had only one concern. He crawled, his broken leg throbbing beneath him, until he reached Hannibal, who was lying face down on the rooftop.
“H-Hannibal,” Will said, reaching out his hand and turning him to his back.
Hannibal’s eyes opened at the sound of Will’s voice, but his face was deathly pale, and blood was pouring from the wound in his stomach. Will cried out, pulling himself closer and pressing his hand over the wound, but no pressure was enough and bouts of blood seeped through his fingers.
“Will,” Hannibal whispered, and Will gave up on the unfixable wound to cup his demon’s face.
“Hannibal, Hannibal,” he said softly, eyes misting, and voice trembling. Heart breaking. “No,” he whispered. “No.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. Hannibal wasn’t supposed to die. There had always been a chance – a good chance – that Will wouldn’t survive the mission he’d thrown them into, but he had never considered the possibility that Hannibal…
Hannibal’s eyes focused weakly on Will above him, but then his eyes were closing and his lips were falling slack.
No.
NO.
“Hannibal!” Will yelled, and he pulled himself to sit, his broken leg twisted mindlessly beneath him. He was a Dreamer, and he called upon all his wits now to step one foot into the Fade, like he had only done unconsciously before, and he demanded, his voice echoing in his head.
“Hannibal!” he yelled. “Hannibal!”
It was surreal. Will was in the Waking World, leaned over Hannibal’s failing body, and he was also in the Fade, screaming at the top of his lungs in the grand hall. He saw Hannibal’s human form bleeding out before his eyes, and he saw his demon flickering before him in the torchlight of their shared Fade space.
Will focused on his demon in the Fade. He was slumped, where he was normally held high and gorgeously, strongly solid. Hannibal was dying in both worlds. Will had to be quick.
“Hannibal,” he whispered as the flickering demon staggered toward him. “Help me.”
“Will,” his demon whispered on a weak exhale. “My sweet boy.”
“Hannibal, tell me how to do it,” Will demanded, reaching out to grab his demon’s shoulders. “Tell me how to make the blood bond.”
Suddenly, Will was thrust from the Fade, his demon disappearing in his mind’s eye, and Will looked down helplessly at Hannibal. He was coughing. Blood seeped from his lips. A sob hunched Will’s shoulders. No, no, it couldn’t happen.
And then, a whisper. Will could hear it, faint and delicate in his head, but he knew that voice, knew it better than his own. He listened, closing his eyes. Will soaked his hands again in the blood escaping from Hannibal’s stomach wound, and upon the whispered instructions, he picked up Hannibal’s sword that lay beside him. Will sliced into his hand with the blade, and shut his eyes. He clasped his bloody hands together, tears rolling down his face, and he repeated the words whispered in his head. Repeated them like a prayer. His hands parted, and his body was awash with a strange stinging. Will opened his eyes. He was glowing, a bright red light escaping from his skin, and he lowered his hands, filling the air with whispers, spreading his glowing, bloody palms over Hannibal’s body.
Will felt a sharp pang in his chest, and then the stinging ceased and he collapsed forward onto Hannibal.
Darkness.
And then Will woke, sitting straight up and gasping in a huge breath of air. His broken leg flared with pain for a moment, and then it faded. Will moved it beneath him. It didn’t hurt. It wasn’t broken. He pushed to his knees, bending over Hannibal’s body, cupping his bloody hands over Hannibal’s pale face.
“Stay with me. Please.” It was a whisper. It was a hope. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Hannibal’s.
Something strange happened then. A tickle in the corner of Will’s brain. A warm shadow inching into his heart. Nothing Will had ever felt before. A fullness within him, where he had been hollow. Completeness. Will had the unmistakable sensation that he was, all at once, for the first time in his life, entire.
He felt Hannibal’s breath fan across his face. Will opened his eyes. “Hannibal,” he whispered.
Hannibal’s eyes were black and glittering. And alive. Not only could Will see Hannibal’s strength, he could feel it, because it was his own.
Hannibal felt it, too, and he looked up at Will with curiosity. “You’ve joined us,” he said, his voice deep and laced with surprise. “You used blood magic.”
Will nodded, his blood-stained hands smoothing over Hannibal’s face and carding through his hair. “I did,” he said. He moved closer, their lips an inch apart. “I can feel you inside me, Hannibal,” he whispered.
His demon’s presence in his head, in his whole body, was nothing like he’d imagined. Taking a piece of Hannibal didn’t feel evil. Will didn’t feel like an abomination. He felt powerful. He felt good. He felt right.
Hannibal sat up from the cold rooftop and gathered Will into his arms, pulling him against his chest. Their wounds were healed. They were joined. They were bonded. It would take more than a mortal wound to kill them now. Will turned in his demon’s arms, and Hannibal’s fingers found their way into the curls at the nape of Will’s neck.
They kissed, and the sun began to rise.