#the tl;dr is that marian got pretty lucky but still got her ass kicked and seb realized he couldn't live without her

[persephoneggsy]

I know Marian and Isabela didn't get along, but was it so bad that she didn't come back? Was there no duel? If not, how did Sebastian feel seeing her face off again a qunari over twice her size? If there was no duel, how did Marian handle the fight?

There was a duel - Marian had earned the Arishok's respect (however unintentionally; she's blunt and direct and usually also had Fenris with her, so she was pretty much guaranteed to earn his respect. it wasn't mutual, she hated him and the Qunari), so he offered her the challenge. Not wanting any more bloodshed over what she saw largely as Isabela's fuck up, she agreed. Isabela never came back, though if she did, Marian still wouldn't have forgiven her.

As for the duel itself… I’ve actually been writing a lil something about that. Or, at least the aftermath of it.

:)

Years from now, Varric will tell this story differently.

He’ll say that the soon-to-be-named Champion of Kirkwall stood victorious, her form towering over the fallen Qunari. The Arishok met her gaze, his chin tilted defiantly as he pointed a finger towards her and uttered his last, cryptic words, before finally expiring.

His guards, true to his word, turned and departed without a fight, leaving the Champion to be venerated by the grateful nobles of Kirkwall. Knight-Commander Meredith, however reluctantly, would name Marian Hawke the Champion of Kirkwall, and thus began a new chapter in her illustrious legacy.

It’s a nice tale.

Sebastian remembers it like this:

The fight had been drawn-out and vicious; Marian had to rely on her speed and smaller stature to avoid the Arishok’s lethal attacks, slinging ice at a distance and slashing him with the bladed end of her staff when he got too close.

But Marian, while formidable, was never meant for single combat, and certainly not against a bruiser of a man like the Arishok. When one of his attacks finally connected, it did so brutally — his battle axe sank deep into her side, before sending her flying across the throne room, her body ending its arc abruptly as she slammed into a pillar.

Sebastian remembered that in particular with startling clarity; he wished he didn’t.

Marian was on the ground, soaked in blood and trembling. The Arishok advanced on her, raising his axe for the final blow, his face as stoic as it ever was, betraying no sense of enjoyment or displeasure either way.

And then… Marian flung her hand up, fingertips coated in frost, and the Arishok took a sudden step back. A jagged shard of ice stuck out of his chest, far larger than anything she’d conjured before. He looked down at the shard with shock, stumbling backwards another step, and then another. Finally, he collapsed onto his knees, hands scrambling to tear out the shard.

Marian rose to her feet in the meantime, using her staff to hold her weight. The Arishok looked at her, opened his mouth to speak…

She let out a vicious snarl and raised her staff above her head, cutting off whatever he might have said to her. She swung down, burying the bladed end deep in the Arishok’s skull. She twisted the staff and dug it deeper, glaring at the Qunari with unbridled hatred. Blood poured from his wounds, spilled down his face, from his mouth. From where he stood, Sebastian even saw the moment the light left his eyes.

The Arishok died on his knees, and not too long after, Marian collapsed on the floor.

Before he could register anything else, Sebastian was at her side, cradling her close as he tried to staunch the bleeding. Red liquid flowed from her wound, slipping through his fingers and onto the cold tiled floor. He vaguely recalled the cheers of the surrounding nobles turn into gasps and worried murmurs.

Suddenly Fenris appeared with a cloth, torn from Maker knew where, and joined it with Sebastian's hand against the wound. His face was twisted with grief. Merrill knelt next to him, muttering a spell and waving her hands over Marian’s still body. She wasn’t a proficient healer, not like Marian or Anders, but Marian was unconscious and Anders was gone.

“Please,” Sebastian choked out. He felt his vision blurring. “Please, Marian, hold on. I can’t lose you too, I love you, please…!”

Her pale blue eyes looked up at him, but he didn’t know if she could see him. Her lips twitched, but even speaking seemed beyond her. All she could do was let out a pained wheeze.

Distantly, he heard the doors burst open; the knight commander and first enchanter had arrived. He couldn’t hear what was said — likely the nobles explained what had happened, told them of Marian’s duel with the Arishok, because soon Orsino had joined them on the floor, adding his magic to Merrill’s.

In his arms, Marian shifted. He watched in morbid fascination as the deep gash in her side began to close, flesh and sinew rebuilding with slow but steady progress.

Her breathing evened out from short, shallow gasps, and she sagged into his embrace. She spared him a smile before her eyes slipped closed.

“Marian—!” he began, but a hand at his shoulder cut him off. He looked up, and saw that the hand belonged to Orsino. The elven enchanter gave him a reassuring smile — grim and exhausted, but reassuring nonetheless.

“She’ll be alright,” he said gently. “But she needs rest, and plenty of it.”

“We‘ll take her home,” spoke Fenris, standing up. He offered a hand down to Merrill, who blinked in surprise, but took it without comment, and let him pull her up to her feet. “Sebastian, are you able to carry her?”

“I — yes.” Gingerly, Sebastian gathered her in his arms and stood as well, careful not to jostle her too much. Marian was… surprisingly light. She was a small woman, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, but, well. He’d never had the opportunity to hold her like this before.

“You will need an escort,” came the imposing voice of the Knight-Commander. Sebastian turned to see her sheathing her blade and approaching them. She looked thoughtful, yet still stern. “Thugs and looters still hound the streets.”

“We’ll be the escort,” Aveline said, the stubborn set of her jaw brooking no argument. Varric nodded beside her, looking unusually somber. Though Sebastian had never gotten along very well with either of them — indeed, neither had Marian — he was grateful for their presence now.

Meredith considered them, then nodded. “Very well. See that Serah Hawke gets home safely; it would not bode well, losing Kirkwall’s new champion.”

Sebastian heard murmurs around them, and finally remembered that the throne room was still full of people. Nobles whispered to one another, some craning their necks to get a look at Marian’s unconscious form. Others looked as exhausted as he felt; some were sobbing, the grief for the day’s events finally catching up to them.

He felt another hand on him, and he looked to see that it was Merrill, this time.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly. Her large eyes flickered from Marian’s face to his. “We all need some rest.”

He nodded. Following behind Fenris and Aveline, with Varric and Merrill trailing behind him, he carried Marian out of the keep, cradling her close, like he feared she would turn to smoke and disappear if his grip was not secure.

Sebastian felt movement, and paused, looking down at her. Marian murmured something indistinct and burrowed her head further against his chest. For the briefest of moments, the anxiety that sat like an anchor in his gut was alleviated. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and kept moving forwards.