Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, Part 5: Permanently Frozen

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Nobility, 2/4

[anonymous]

Much as she looked likely to do to Loghain now. He was every bit the sturdy, steadfast hero of River Dane she'd always imagined; careful, guarded, his sword as much a protection as his shield, knocking away every testing flash of Lyriel's blades with direct, efficient ease. But Lyriel was taking his measure with every probing swing, and Melody saw it in the briefest shifting of her feet - the moment when she saw the chink in his armor, the gap in his form. Melody didn't see the opening herself until Lyriel picked up the pace, suddenly driving at Loghain in a flurry of rapid sword strikes, left hand out behind her for balance, the dagger there hanging loose and easy between her fingers, and Loghain dropped his shoulder behind his shield and tried to push forward and Lyriel floated out of the way, an impossible dropping twist sliding her under his shield and letting his weight carry him forward as she drove her dagger right through the armor chain around his knee with a furious strength that even Sten would envy.

Loghain made a noise somewhere between a pained yowl and a surprised grunt as he collapsed forward onto his chest. Lyriel was on her feet and pouncing in the same breath, but he pulled himself to his good knee just in time, throwing his shield up once more into her path. She skittered along it, let the momentum spin her and slammed her sword into his left shoulder as she looped around behind his back, and he dropped the shield, numbly.

His eyes raised to lock with Melody's as Lyriel stood behind him, and then slid sideways to Anora's. He didn't beg, didn't justify himself, didn't speak a word, but his eyes, dark and silent, held apology and farewell in equal measure.

And then Riordan, showing the same appallingly bad timing he'd had two weeks prior, came storming out of the west corridor shouting "Wait!" at the top of his lungs, completely drowning Melody's own identical call.

And Lyriel, sword poised over her shoulder for a downward sweep, just looked up at him with a brief, flat glance, and said, "No."

He didn't get another word out before the blade dropped.

From her position directly between the battle and Anora, where she'd just managed to slide before Lyriel's final blow struck home, Melody gave the elf a flat look. "Lyriel," was all she said, as she wiped blood spatter off her face with the back of her gauntlet.

"I suppose you're going to try to tell me he deserved mercy," said Lyriel, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Actually I was thinking we could make him a Grey Warden," muttered Melody.

"This isn't really the time for jokes," Alistair snapped.

Melody shot a glance at him, one eyebrow up, and then shook her head dismissively. "Riordan. You had something to add?"

The Orlesian glanced down at Loghain's headless body where it slumped on the floor. "... no, it seems I do not."

And then it was all arguing and backroom deals coming to fruition and Anora's brittle satisfaction, Eamon's baffled dismay, Alistair's glum resignation and awkward assumption of duty, and through it all, Lyriel, eyeing her with silent, evaluating disquiet, like an itch between her shoulderblades.