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[sylvanaerie]

This story contains several categories, friendship/romance/hurt/comfort.  Mostly it's just a tale about friendship. This tale is complete, I'm just waiting on LD to finish beta reading it for me.


AN: First, a warning: For those who haven’t, but intend to rival Anders to completion, this story contains spoilers for dialogues in Act 3.
 
My most recent play-through was on my first aggressive M!Hawke mage. I imagined him as an angry young man (especially after a certain event in Act 2) who tried to save his companions from their own stupidity/insanity.
 
I suppose at best, his efforts reached a limited success.
 
Also I played a little loose with the romance timelines, having Merrill come to him in the interim between Acts 2 and 3, instead of in Act 2 as she does in the game.
 
I’d like to thank Lady Damodred for her beta reading skills, and being the muse behind this story after a long discussion on human nature and friendship. Also I’d like to thank Bioware for their engaging world of Thedas, without whom this story never would have seen imagining in my mind.
 
Vengeance is Mine
 
Chapter One
 
The Hawke estate seemed so quiet and empty the past few years. Even with Merrill having finally moved in today, it still would always feel empty without Carver, Bethany and Mother. William lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep. Curled next to him in the protective circle of his arms, Merrill still occasionally sobbed, but it had finally subsided as she drifted off to sleep.
 
Today, they had been forced to kill her Keeper. William admired the woman’s strength and courage. To protect her pupil, Marethari had taken the demon into herself. Even if it had been a stupid and drastic measure, it had taken just that to finally see Merrill turn from her self destructive path and smash that blighted mirror.
 
She hiccupped, and he stroked her arm absently with his fingertips until she settled down again.
 
After he had gotten her home, he set Orana to work making a hot bath for Merrill while he wrapped her in a blanket and tried to get some of her favorite hot tea into her. He knew he was no substitute for the clan she had lost, or the loss of the last seven years of her work, but he was here for her.

He knew what it was to grieve. His baby sister had died when they were fleeing the Blight years ago. That failure still caused his eyes to burn and the knot in his chest to twist. The pain was lessened by time and distance, but it would always be a part of him.

Carver he lost in the Deep Roads. Not to death. No, that would have been simple. As bad as losing Bethany had been, this was worse. Carver had been downed by the Blight sickness. If not for Anders, they never would have found the Grey Wardens in time to save his little brother. Yes, Carver lived, but he was so different now. Their foray into the Grey Warden fortress in the Vimmark had shown William just how different. But, at least he was alive.
 
Mother had been lost almost four years ago now, a failure that was still raw. Nothing he’d done in the city had mattered much to him after she was gone. It had all been for her. He wished she’d lived to see him named Champion.
 
He smiled in the darkness, imagining her face if she’d lived to that day. “She would’ve been so proud,” Gamlen had told him and William believed it.
 
Beside him, Merrill finally stilled as she slipped into quiet slumber at last. He sighed. Lacing her tea with a little brandy, and her not knowing liquor, had been an inspired idea. It relaxed her enough to afford her a little rest so she could face tomorrow with a clear mind.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Varric stopped by the next morning. Merrill was still asleep, though William had been up for a couple of hours. Orana fussed, trying to fluff the pillows on the couch in the study, and fretted over the dust until Hawke sent her to fix them some of the little cakes she was so good at making to get her from the room.
 
“So how’s Daisy?” Varric asked.
 
“As good as can be expected,” William replied. “Last night, she smashed that mirror, Varric.”
 
“And there it is,” said Varric. William cocked a brow at the dwarf. “That ‘I told you so’ tone. Good thing I came here, I wanted to check up on you two.”
 
“Me? I’m the one who’s been telling her for years to forget that damn thing.”
 
“And you’ll probably say something stupid like that,” said Varric. “Hawke, my friend, you’re a good man, you get things done in this city, but Blight take you, you don’t know when to just shut up and listen. Daisy isn’t stupid, she knows this is her own doing. Just be there for her. She needs your support now, not your anger.
 
“Remember what I told you after Isabela took off with the book? At least she came back when you needed her to.”
 
“I remember,” William nodded.
 
The image of the pirate striding over the Arishok’s guard, book in hand, ready to turn over the relic, danced through his mind’s eye. They were lovers then, and William thought they were more than that, but her leaving had killed whatever had been growing between them.
 
Had it not been for her returning of her own free will, and Varric’s intercession, William wasn’t sure what he would have done. Probably, as Varric intimated, something stupid, no doubt.
 
It took three years to get their friendship back on track, but William no longer trusted her enough for any level of intimacy beyond that. Though from time to time they had still bedded each other—she was a tiger between the sheets and William was a man in his prime—what they had was only sex.
 
Merrill came to him not long after that, and they began sharing a bed as well. Somehow, though she drove him to distraction at times, Merrill had managed to touch him in a way no one else had. She was like a frightened little bird, fluttering against the bars of her cage, the cage being her feelings for him. No matter how crazy they made each other, or maybe because of that, they couldn’t stop what was growing between them.
 
Why did he always seem to be attracted to the crazy ones?
 
“Anders said he needed to speak with you when you have some time. He has a plan to separate him and Justice.”
 
William smiled. Thank the Maker. Maybe—just maybe—he’d managed to reach Anders after all. But Merrill needed him more right now.
 
“He’s waited this long, a few more days won’t matter much. I want to be here with Merrill until things settle down some first. I want to see them separated, too, but right now, Merrill needs me more.”
 
After the death of his mother, all his companions had offered their sympathy, but it was Merrill who refused to leave him to grieve alone. At first he had closed up, wouldn’t talk, but she didn’t let him push her out. Pressing and pushing until he finally broke and yelled at her—he still felt ashamed of that—turning his grief into a personal attack on her.
 
Quentin was an insane and obsessed blood mage, and William worried that this would be Merrill’s fate as well. He’d said such ugly things then, but she’d taken the worst he had to throw at her, and still refused to leave him. Proving, despite her apparent vulnerability, there were depths of strength within her she rarely showed to anyone. If she could bear the brunt of his anger and grief, he could do no less for her now.
 
“If you need me, just send a messenger,” Varric said, rising to leave. “Isabela also says she wants to be here, too.”
 
“I appreciate it, Varric and I’ll let Merrill know you stopped by to ask about her, and that Isabela did as well. Right now, I think she needs a little peace and quiet to get through this.  Maybe in a day or two, she’ll feel up to company.”

Modifié par sylvanaerie, 26 septembre 2011 - 07:29 .

[sylvanaerie]

AN: Who else out there wished for the option to just kill Grace along with her blood mage lover? Would have saved a lot of people a lot of trouble in Act 3, but as she seems pretty harmless in Act 1, that would be like the old, “Would you kill Hitler as a baby?” question.
 
Spoiler Alert: The dialogues with Anders are taken from his conversations in the story with few embellishments from me.
 
Chapter Two
 
After three days, Merrill seemed calm enough to handle going out again. William started by walking with her in the gardens in the back yard of his estate. His mother had planted much of the growth here, but he had no talent for it. After her death, it had been Orana and Merrill who had maintained the flowerbeds in some semblance of order.
 
Looking at woman he loved, William tried to envision where he would be now if she wasn’t in his life. Despite all their difficulties and differences—or maybe because of them—he felt closer to her than anyone else in the world.
 
He put his hand in his pocket, his fingers curling around the object within. It was Dalish, a carved ring made out of sylvanwood. He’d found it in the varterral cave on one of the elven corpses in there. Doubtless it was one of the treasures they were trying to retrieve from the maddened guardian.

He had tried to give it back to Marethari, but she explained Merrill would appreciate it more. Now, if she only didn’t misconstrue the intent of his gift….
 
“Merrill…” he began, and then nervously cleared his throat when she looked up at him. Her remarkable green eyes were her prettiest feature, and they captured him, drew him into her, and left him breathless and dry mouthed. He tried again. “Merrill, I have something for you, something I found.”
 
He pulled it out and held it out to her in his palm. She cocked her head and a frown creased her brow. Oh, Maker, it was a mistake, she was going to start crying again, and he didn’t know how he was going to handle that.
 
Then she reached up and took the small ring from his palm, turning it over in her hand.
 
“It’s Dalish, I think,” he hastened to explain. “I just thought…I thought….”
 
What had he thought? That she would accept it as some keepsake of her exile, this time involuntary? As a memento of Marethari’s death? Andraste’s ass, Varric was right. He was really stupid sometimes.
 
“It tells the story of Fen’harel and the Creators,” she murmured.
 
William recalled her telling him the tale, how the trickster had fooled the Old Ones and the Creators long ago and sealed them all away.
 
“I can’t imagine the Dalish depicting the doom of their gods as a token of jewelry,” he said.
 
“It’s a Keeper’s ring,” she explained. “It’s a Keeper’s place to remember. To protect the clan from the Dread Wolf.”
 
“Ahh,” was all he could say.
 
She smiled then, a small pensive smile. “Thank you, it’s a kind gift. I can’t ever go back, but I will never forget her—them—and this, this was very kind of you.”
 
He held her then and kissed her, and hoped in his arms she might find some solace.
 
“No matter how bad our rows,” she said, “I always feel I can trust you, Hawke. You will never hurt me.”
 
Marethari had spared him from having to, but Maker help him if he was ever forced to make that choice.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Sela petrae and drakestone. Those were the odd ingredients Anders needed for his Tevinter potion. William had never heard of anyone separating a demon from its host without killing one or both of them, but admittedly, his father hadn’t known everything. In his lessons with Malcolm, when William had inquired if there was, his father could offer no hope on that score.  Even the Dalish had no miracle cures, Marethari telling him that even were such possible, the afflicted soul was forever scarred and, like a wounded animal, would soon be picked off by other predators.
 
Still, he held out hope. Anders had seemed so certain this would free him, and he wanted to help his friend.
 
He and Anders hadn’t gotten along very well in the past. They had butted heads over the whole demon possession thing, and about Hawke turning over those Starkhaven apostates to the Circle years ago. He regretted doing that, though not for the reasons Anders had argued. When Grace had returned to bite him on the ass—and cost a good man his life—William wished he had simply killed the b*tch in the caverns that day along with her blood mage lover, Decimus.
 
Focus, William, get this done.
 
The sewers reeked, the task of gathering the materials beyond disgusting, and he had sought some relief in thoughts of the past, but he had to focus on the battles at hand, and control his fire spells carefully. The gasses and substances in the sewer were pretty flammable, causing him to hold back on his magic.
 
The very nature of the ingredients Anders required was questionable at best and William wondered just what his companion’s real agenda was? A part of him was relieved Merrill chose to visit Isabela today, and not crawling around in the sewers looking for deposits of…best not think of how that was going to be made into a potion. Hopefully, Anders wouldn’t be drinking it.
 
But what was he going to be using it for? The more William thought about it, the more uneasy he got. His friend was so changed from when they first met. It seemed as time passed, he grew angrier over the mage situation, and William feared what these trying times were doing to Anders.
 
It would be nice if they could resolve this peacefully, though William held out little hope of that as long as Meredith was in charge. Thrask’s splinter group wasn’t entirely wrong in what they wanted. He’d objected—most strenuously—to their methods, not their goals. The mages were being boxed into a corner and Meredith was getting worse with each passing day. Kirkwall had become a powder keg over which everyone was suspended.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Back at his clinic, Anders asked to speak privately with William.
 
“There is one more thing I would ask of you, Hawke, and I can’t tell you why,” he said. William looked dubiously at the healer. “I must get inside the Chantry, without being seen. Will you talk to the grand cleric for me, distract her long enough for me to do what must be done?”
 
“Considering the chantry is pretty packed for mass, I doubt you’d be noticed,” William pointed out.


Anders blanched at that and shook his head. Then, he regarded Hawke once more. “Then we need to go after mass, when most people have left. I have to have privacy to do this, and too many people…risk…discovery.”
 
William wondered how much of this was directed at him, and how much to that unseen entity in Anders’s head.

“What do you want me to talk about?” he asked.
 
“Food. The weather? What does it matter?” Anders snapped impatiently, as if William were a small, uncomprehending child. “No, talk of mages. Give her one last chance to hear what mages have suffered. To pick a side. Perhaps she will be more inclined to listen to the Champion.”
 
No, the more he heard, the less William liked of Anders’s plan. “What are you plotting?”
 
His response only made William more wary. “You would not thank me if I told you. If you support freedom for mages, help me. That’s all I can say.”
 
“What is it you don’t want me to see?”
 
“I would not tell you my plans, Hawke. You’ve made it pretty plain where your sympathies lie. I will ask you straight then. After all we’ve done, all you’ve seen here in Kirkwall, has nothing changed your mind? Will you help me free the mages of Kirkwall or stay at the side of the knight-tyrant?”
 
William didn’t like being pushed and then manipulated. He refused to take the bait now. “Was this ever about you and Justice? Or have you lied this whole time?”
 
Anders sighed. “I lied, there is no potion. But what we have gathered will bring freedom for more than just me and Justice. It will bring freedom to mages across Thedas. In the face of that, one lie means little.”
 
Fanatic. Everywhere he turned in Kirkwall, he ran into fanatics. He couldn’t spit without hitting one. Anders seemed pretty blighted determined—enough he’d probably just get someone else to do it if William refused. Maker, maybe he might be able to control the situation if he was there. If Anders intended on assassinating Elthina or something equally stupid, better William was there to stop him than elsewhere wondering what the healer was doing.
 
His accession was reluctant and tasted like ashes. “What do you need me to do?”
 
Anders blinked, taken aback. “You surprise me again, William. I’m glad these years haven’t been spent ranting in vain.”
 
Whatever. William just wanted to be done with this.
 
“I promise, whatever happens, it’s on my head. It won’t come back on you,” Anders vowed. “Go to the Chantry, talk to the grand cleric. I will join you when I’m done.”
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
Most of the congregation was cleared by the time they made their way to the chantry. William went alone with Anders, not wanting to drag anyone else in on whatever was happening, especially not Aveline as she had her position as guard-captain and her marriage to Donnic to protect.
 
The biggest part of William’s frustration with Elthina was the monumental passivity of the woman. Maybe her hands were tied, maybe she could have done something—anything—but she chose to do nothing. It seemed as if she wasn’t even trying. And he really had little patience left with her.
 
It didn’t take long. It seemed he was only speaking to Elthina for a few minutes before Anders rejoined him. Once out of the chantry, Anders refused to answer him until they were in the privacy of his clinic in Darktown.
 
“What did you do?” William demanded in a harsh whisper.
 
Anders smiled, closed his eyes. “I can’t tell you how good it feels for a spirit to fulfill its function. The waiting is over. I am finally seeking justice and he is exultant. There is no ecstasy humankind can feel to match.”
 
“Are you going to tell me what you did?” William reiterated.
 
“You are Kirkwall’s Champion. You can better aid our cause in that role than by aligning yourself too closely to me.”
 
William had to wonder if Anders did this sh*t just to watch that vein in his temple throb. “Every time you refuse to tell me, I have to imagine something crazier.”
 
“This isn’t a fight for sane men.”
 
That’s for sure.
 
“The war will happen. The clock is ticking down. It will be midnight soon.”
 
“What happens at midnight?”
 
Anders sighed. “I know you don’t understand why I do what I must do, but I had thought maybe you’d support me.”
 
“You won’t tell me what you’re doing!”
 
“I’m trying to protect you.”
 
“I’m a big boy, Anders, I can look after myself.” Unlike some others I can mention….
 
“There’s no reason we both have to hang.”
 
“You’re the one who jerked me around with that ridiculous story about the Tevinter potion!”
 
“Should I have told you the truth? There’s no one in Kirkwall I wouldn’t kill to see mages free.”
 
Good to know.
 
“How would you have reacted to that?” Anders demanded.
 
“There must be something untried. A peaceful solution isn’t beyond our grasp.”
 
The denial was flat. “No.”
 
“If you talk to the grand cleric….”
 
Had Anders even tried? He had plastered a false smile on his face, directed it at the grand cleric, and only said “good evening” to the woman earlier.
 
“No.”
 
“If Meredith steps down….”
 
“No. They see mages as monsters. They can’t imagine a world with room for all of us.”
 
“Maybe they’re right. If you want mages to be free, you need to convince them they aren’t dangerous.”
 
Anders threw his arms to his side and exploded. “Impossible!”
 
“All you’re doing is proving the templars right.”
 
“Do you know how long I’ve been telling them that? Mage after mage in Kirkwall turning to blood magic because its ‘easy.’ I always said they were their own worst enemies, but I never thought I….”
 
He sighed then. It seemed he was beginning to relent. William pressed his advantage.
 
“Whatever you planned, there’s still time to stop it.”
 
“Yes, time…maybe there’s still…time,” Anders agreed.
 
William breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they could still save this situation.
 
Then his eyes glowed and Justice came to the fore.
 
“Leave! This does not concern you!”
 
It was the height of insanity, William felt, to be attempting to use moderation with this creature. It was clearly out of Anders’s control. How much of Anders was left?
 
“You will not get justice by becoming what everyone fears!”
 
“I will get justice by whatever means required,” the spirit countered. “You have given into sloth. You would stand idly by while mages are abducted and tortured.”
 
In the Fade, his father had told him, trust only yourself. Demons will try to trick you, their words will seem real, but they’re always lying, even when they twist the truth. William refused to give in now.
 
“Go. Anders has no need of you.”
 
The light faded, and Anders blinked and brought a hand to his forehead. “What…what was I saying?”
 
“You really don’t know what just happened?”
 
“No. What do…? Oh. I’m having more blanks in my memory. It’s like the longer we go, the less ‘me’ there is.” His brow furrowed. “You were right all along. I should never have done this.”
 
Whether he meant merging with the spirit, or whatever it was he had done in the Chantry tonight, William wasn’t sure.
 
“I will see,” Anders promised. “Maybe it’s not too late to change things.”
 
Maybe it wasn’t.

Modifié par sylvanaerie, 05 septembre 2011 - 03:50 .

[sylvanaerie]

AN: Spoiler alert: Again dialogues taken from the game included. I saw that William’s relationship with Anders, while a rivalry, was a complicated thing and he felt some actual fondness/friendship for the apostate. It wasn’t all contention.
 
Chapter Three
 
Nothing could be done that night in the dark, Anders assured him. William wasn’t sure if Anders was just putting him off or if he was being honest or even if he planned on doing something alone.
 
Regardless, it was late, and he desperately needed a bath and some food and rest, but William planned on showing up first thing in the morning to accompany Anders back to the Chantry to fix his own mess.
 
Once home, he found that Orana had prepared him a bath and served him a small meal she’d kept warm for him, then went to sleep once it was on the table. Merrill sat with him as he ate and filled him in on her day spent with Isabela at the Hanged Man. Varric had joined them, and William was glad to hear she’d gotten out and had a little fun with their friends. He’d been pretty worried about her the past few days, and it felt good after the events of his own day to just talk quietly with her about something as fun as a day with friends.
 
Bodahn and Sandal had left that morning. They were heading for Orlais, and William ensured they had enough coin for their journey and to live comfortably for a while.
 
Aside from the two elven women, there was only William in the house now, and the silence was disquieting.
 
Duke, his mabari hound, getting on in years now, curled up on a rug next to the fireplace in Hawke’s bedroom. He leaned over to scratch his old friend behind the ears, and the dog looked up at his master with liquid brown eyes, filled with the devotion only a dog could express.
 
Once they were in the huge four poster bed, he curled up next to Merrill, pulling her close in his arms and sighed, burying his face in her dark hair. He was so exhausted; he was asleep almost as fast as his head laid down on the pillow.
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
He woke to a frantic knocking on his door.
 
Beside him, Merrill stirred as Orana’s voice came through the door, calling for William. “Master! Master, please wake up, someone is here to see you.”
 
Rising and throwing on a robe, he opened the door and went downstairs to see a young templar he didn’t recognize.
 
“Champion,” he began without preamble, “you must come at once. Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino are at it again.” At William’s almost dismissive expression, he hastened to explain. “It’s very bad this time, Champion. I know they seem to do this almost daily, and I’m not sure how it got started, but I’ve never seen them like this!”
 
Yet another crisis in the blighted Gallows? What could possibly have happened so early in the morning? It was pretty damn early for them to start going at it. William was almost ready to dismiss it and go back to sleep, but the look on the young man’s face was distressed enough to give him pause. Since someone had sent him to the Champion to resolve this, it must be a more important matter than usual.
 
“What’s happened this time?”
 
“They got into a terrible argument. The first enchanter stormed off to get the grand cleric and the knight-commander gave chase! I fear there will be bloodshed!”
 
William pinched the bridge of his nose. Maker, he didn’t need this so early in the morning.
 
With a terse, “Give me a moment,” he went back upstairs to get dressed. Reluctantly, he pulled on his robes and smoothed the material. Already awake, Merrill watched him and rose to begin dressing herself.
 
“You don’t have to come, love, if you don’t want to,” William said.
 
“Whatever you do, whatever risks you take, I want to be there, William, by your side. If this comes to bloodshed, you may need me there to watch your back.”
 
He smiled, crossed the room and kissed her, pulling her body close to his. That was one of the reasons she had stolen his heart. This faith she had in him, in the rightness of his path. Her support had never wavered, even if they had disagreed over her blood magic and the eluvian.
 
As they neared the streets of Lowtown where Meredith and Orsino had paused to continue their argument, surrounded by a dozen templars and mages drawn into the fight, William saw Isabela, Varric, Sebastian and Fenris present among the small crowd gathering. Aveline was approaching with a contingent of the guard, hopefully to restore order.
 
“I will have the tower searched, top to bottom!” Meredith’s voice was shrill, echoing in the empty roads.
 
“****,” hissed Isabela. “It’s too early for this to be starting. I have a killer hangover.”
 
“I get the feeling it’s been going on most of the night,” said Varric next to her.
 
“You can’t do that!” Orsino countered. “You have no right.”
 
William couldn’t help thinking it was like watching Carver and Bethany when they were little and arguing, but with all the anger and none of the love.
 
“I have every right. You are harboring blood mages and I intend to root them out before they infect this city.”
 
William frowned. And as everyone knew, magic was a disease—especially blood magic. That’s how mages passed it to “normal people”; you could catch it just by breathing the air around mages. He was so sick of this inane argument, had been hearing it from close-minded idiots all his life. He knew Meredith knew better, and knew she meant it figuratively, but a part of him wondered if there wasn’t a part of her that believed that.
 
“Blood magic! Where do you not see blood magic?! My people cannot sneeze without you accusing them of corruption.”
 
“This needs to stop,” William spoke up as the battle took a pause for both combatants to breathe and regroup for the next volley of insults.
 
“This does not involve you, Champion,” Meredith whirled on him, her ire directed his way.
 
“I called him here,” Orsino said. “I think the people deserve to know just what you’ve done.”
 
“What I have done is protect the people of this city, time and again. What I have done is protect you mages from your curse and your own stupidity. And I will not stop doing it, I will not lower our guard, I dare not!” she insisted.
 
William frowned. Kirkwall seemed to have more than it’s fair share of abominations and blood mages running amok. Ever since he encountered Quentin, he’d been wondering how many there were, and how much Orsino really knew about them.
 
“Is there any truth to her accusations, Orsino?”
 
“These are just her latest accusations, nothing more,” he insisted. “And what if she doesn’t find what she’s looking for? How far will she go to root out what isn’t there?”
 
“The Champion knows better than anyone how deep the Circle’s corruption goes. I must root out the source.”
 
Another reference to his mother’s death, William knew, and it was all he could do not to punch the woman. Whatever his thoughts on the matter, they were none of her business and not to be used to further her agenda.

“This needs to stop,” he reiterated. “You two are tearing apart the very city you want to save.”
 
Meredith paused and looked at him. Her voice was so weary, as if she hadn’t slept in weeks. “What other option do we have? Tell me, Champion, you haven’t seen with your own eyes, have not heard yourself the lies of mages that seek power?”
 
Speaking carefully, William tried once more to reason with her. “Some of us just want what you want, Meredith. We aren’t the enemy.”
 
“You would cast us all as villains, but it isn’t so!” Orsino exclaimed.
 
“I know. It breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant. If you can’t tell me another way, don’t brand me a tyrant.”
 
“This is getting us nowhere,” Orsino sighed. “Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this.”
 
He started to stride away toward Hightown, followed by Meredith who grabbed his arm. “You will not bring her Grace into this!” she gasped.
 
Another voice behind William caused everyone to turn. Anders stepped forward. “The grand cleric cannot help you.” He turned on Meredith. “I won’t stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals,” and then directed his ire toward Orsino, “while those who lead us bow to their templar jailers.”
 
“How dare you speak to me.…” Orsino began.
 
Anders cut him off. “The Circle has failed us, Orsino. Even you should be able to see that!”
 
He was glowing again, as he began losing himself to Justice. “The time has come to act. There can be no half measures.”
 
There was something terrible and final in the way Anders said those words. With horror, William reached for him, trying to get his attention, but the apostate pulled away. “Anders, what have you done?”
 
“There can be no turning back.”
 
It began as a distant rumble under his feet. At first William thought it was an ogre charging, and then the vibration in his feet was joined by one assaulting his ears. The high pitched sound was white hot; stinging his ear drums and making him cover them. Everyone else was doing the same, except Anders, who stood there, glowing.
 
Then they saw it, the terrible brilliance coming from Hightown. A bright column of light shooting up from the chantry illuminated the city in a red glow. In shock, they watched as the light rose and surrounded the building, knocking off chunks of it, sending some hurtling outward, some rising with the light, swirling around it like leaves caught in an errant breeze. Rising up past the top of the roof, it reached for the clouds, and then burst in an explosive shock wave that left all observing it breathless.
 
Meredith stared, mouth agape in mute horror. Beside her, Orsino mimicked her expression.
 
Chunks of flaming stone dropped as far as their vantage in Lowtown, sending the few people out in the streets scrambling for shelter. Once the fallout had cleared, the templars, mages, William and his companions emerged from behind the walls of the Hanged Man to stare at the empty space of Hightown’s skyline where the chantry once stood.
 
“Maker have mercy,” Meredith whispered.
 
“There can be no peace,” Anders insisted.
 
Behind him, William heard Sebastian begin to cry out in denial. Elthina had been like a mother to the young prince of Starkhaven, and while William wasn’t sure just how many had been lost in the blast, most assuredly the grand cleric was.
 
Orsino turned on Anders in disbelief. “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
 
“I removed the chance of compromise because there is no compromise,” Anders insisted. He wasn’t glowing anymore, but William wondered how much of what Anders was saying was Justice and how much of it was Anders.
 
“The grand cleric has been slain by magic, the chantry destroyed.” Meredith’s voice was eerily calm. “As knight-commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Rite of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle will be executed—immediately.”
 
“What?” Orsino sputtered in disbelief. “You can’t! The Circle didn’t do this! Champion, you have to stop her! Help us!”
 
Knight-Commander Meredith whirled on William, pointing a finger his way. “And I insist you stand with us, Champion. Even you must see this outrage cannot be tolerated!”
 
“Why are we even debating the Rite of Annulment when the monster that did this is standing right here in front of us?” asked Sebastian. “I swear to you, I will kill him!”
 
William shook his head as Anders turned to him. Maybe he had intended to ‘protect’ William, but Anders had just blown up the toys and expected him, as usual, to pick up the mess.
 
“It can’t be stopped now. You have to decide,” Anders said. His tone was grim, but there was a note of satisfaction to his voice as well.
 
“I have to decide?! You bastard!” William exploded. “I could have stopped you!”
 
“No. This had to happen,” Anders insisted.

“So says who? Justice? Anders?” William demanded.
 
Anders shook his head in denial. “Does it matter? The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see.”
 
“Elthina wasn’t the Circle!” Sebastian yelled. “She was a good woman, and you murdered her!”
 
The loss of life in the Chantry and surrounding areas had to be pretty high despite the hour. Sebastian seemed to focus on the grand cleric, but then the old woman had been more of a mother to the exiled prince than the woman who birthed him had been. William knew he would’ve felt the same if it had been Leandra in that blast. Loss, when it was personal, made it much more vivid, but William didn’t need this right now. He just needed a couple minutes to regroup and think and no one was giving him the chance.
 
“You fool, you’ve doomed us all,” Orsino snapped.
 
“We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later—I’d rather die fighting,” Anders countered.
 
Well, how lucky for them that every mage in Thedas has you to think for them, Anders. No level of hypocrisy was too low for his demon to sink to, it seemed.
 
“You’re a murderer,” William snapped. “The grand cleric, the mages—their blood is on your hands!”
 
“I know.” For the first time since he confronted them, Anders seemed to waver.
 
“It doesn’t matter. Even should I wish to stay my hand, the people will demand blood,” Meredith insisted.
 
“The people or you, Meredith? Somehow I suspect you’ve wanted this all along. Now you have your excuse.” She glared at him, but William met her gaze evenly, feeling he’d struck close to the heart of the matter. He turned to Orsino. “Meredith has to be stopped.”
 
“But what of Anders?” Sebastian insisted.

William knew Sebastian had every right to be upset, but right now he wasn’t helping the situation.
 
“Hawke, I see what you’re doing, and you have my support,” Aveline assured him.
 
“The mages here would become magisters if they could, do not let them,” Fenris warned. “I feel this is a mistake, but I will not abandon you.”
 
“Hawke, are you sure about this?” Varric questioned. “Even you might not win this fight.”
 
William didn’t expect to. He only hoped he could help mount some kind of defense, stall Meredith’s templars, and allow as many innocents as possible to escape.
 
Beside him, Merrill put her small hand into his, and squeezed it reassuringly. “I know we can do this. I believe in you, William.”
 
William chuckled as Isabela’s curse floated on the still air toward him. “****. What have you gotten yourself into this time, Isabela?”
 
“Just think of it as one last grand adventure before you leave Kirkwall,” William replied.
 
He knew she’d intended to leave soon; she’d just been trying to convince him and Merrill to sign on as part of her crew.
 
“Think carefully, Champion. Side with them and you share their fate,” Meredith vowed.
 
Whatever happened, whatever it took, William decided at that moment he was going to make sure he stopped her once and for all.
 
“I’d prefer their fate to yours,” he responded.
 
“You are a fool, Champion,” Meredith hissed.
 
She looked angry, but somehow William suspected she was pleased by this turn of events. She’d been looking for a way to get rid of the Circle and him for some time now. With the grand cleric gone, the Circle and Orsino annulled, and him out of the way, it left the path cleared for her to take over Kirkwall, unopposed.
 
He had to put a contingency plan in effect, a counter to her, in the event he died before he could kill her.
 
“Kill them all!” Meredith commanded her escort. “I will rouse the rest of the Order.”
 
A free for all ensued, but William’s companions were well skilled. The templars had been watching over complacent mages for years now, their talents wasted. It was a blood bath, ending with several dead templars and the rest unconscious, bleeding or crying for mercy before them.
 
The inevitable confrontation, now that it was finally on him, was liberating. Anders was right about one thing, this did break the stalemate Kirkwall had suffered for years. William at last had a chance to confront the true problem behind Kirkwall’s mage-templar powder keg and in a sad sort of way, he was almost grateful to Anders. At last the long wait was over.
 
He just wished it wouldn’t have come with this staggering loss of life.
 
“Thank you, Champion,” Orsino breathed a sigh. “We may not win this, but at least, thank you for not deserting us. I’ll leave your—friend—for you to deal with. I’ll head to the Gallows and meet you there.”
 
Anders was sitting on a crate, staring off into space. William looked to Aveline.
 
“Aveline, take Donnic and any guards you can find. Put out fires and go to Hightown, see what’s left, if there are any survivors. Maybe…gather as many of the injured and supplies as you can at the keep, it looks to be still standing from here. It looked like most of the blast was directed upward, but there may be collateral damages.”
 
“Hawke, my place is with you.”
 
“No, I’m sending Merrill with you. I’ve been training her to heal, and she’ll be a big help to you. She’ll also be in danger as a mage, and you’re the only one I trust to protect her.”
 
“Hawke…I….” She looked into his eyes, saw the silent plea there and nodded. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
 
“And you have to survive, too, Aveline. If Meredith kills me before I can kill her, she’ll all but run Kirkwall unopposed. We came from Ferelden seven years ago, but I’m a Marcher now, through and through. This is my home, damn it, and I will fight for it!”

“Then I won’t say goodbye, Hawke. You’d better come back to get her.”
 
“William, are you sure? I’d rather be with you fighting,” Merrill stood, twisting her fingers nervously around one another.
 
“I’m sure. Go with Aveline, she’ll need your help. There may be people injured in there, and I can’t help them and go fight for the mages, too.”
 
“You aren’t just doing it to protect me are you?”
 
Of course he was. No place in Kirkwall was safe—especially for a mage—but he knew Aveline liked Merrill, and he trusted her as he did his own family. He knew she would die before she allowed harm to come to his little Dalish. It would be safer for Merrill if she wasn’t mixed up in the battles to come in the Gallows, and he trusted Aveline to help her after this was all over, and he didn’t come back.
 
“Kitten, I’ll watch his back,” Isabela assured her. “When you look for me, Hawke, I’ll be fighting beside you.”
 
With that, he pulled Merrill into an embrace, kissing her as if he never expected to see her again. Aveline held back, then moved to shake his hand, gasping in surprise when he used his grip to pull her into a warm hug, too.
 
“The places you lead me to, Hawke,” she sighed.
 
“You love it, and you know it, Aveline. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else!”
 
As he turned to Anders, still sitting to one side on a crate, he heard Aveline start issuing orders to her guards to spread out, fight fires, organize groups to reconnoiter and put uninjured civilians out of the line of fire and safe in their homes.
 
He didn’t think the apostate was aware of his surroundings until he spoke; responding to the sound of William’s tread as it neared him.
 
“There’s nothing you can say I haven’t already said to myself,” he said. “Vengeance took me over, and I couldn’t stop him. Justice once told me demons are just spirits perverted by their desires.” He buried his face in his hands. “I made my friend a demon and he did this.”
 
“Do not hide behind your spirit. It was your hand that did this!” Sebastian spat.
 
Without warning, William turned and grabbed the prince’s collar, shoving him against the wall behind him.
 
“Let me handle this!” William snarled. “Like I handle everything! Just keep your mouth shut!”
 
“Hey, Choir boy, why not go with Aveline?” Varric said, interceding on Sebastian’s behalf. William backed off, but glared at Sebastian. “See if there are any survivors, and give Hawke a chance to calm down a bit. It’s a long shot, but maybe Elthina’s still alive.”
 
“You saw what happened. There’s no way anyone could have survived that,” Sebastian argued.
 
“Just get out of William’s face for now,” Varric warned. “I’ve been where he is, and you don’t want to push him right now, trust me.”
 
Turning back to Anders, William knew there was no way Varric had ever felt like this before. His friend had needed him, and yet here he had once more failed miserably. Bethany, Carver, Mother, Marethari, Seamus, an assortment of names and faces of people he’d failed to protect, blurring in his mind’s eye. Now added to the list of names was the casualties in Hightown, the people in the chantry, the mages in the gallows….
 
And Anders.
 
Anders hadn’t moved, was still sitting on the crate. His voice when it emerged from between his fingers sounded so tired.
 
“Kill me now, before there is nothing of me left,” he pleaded.
 
William’s vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. “I know you would have changed it if you could.”
 
“But I have proven I cannot. If I couldn’t control Vengeance now, I never will. I need to die.”
 
In a way, Anders was no different from the tranquil in the Gallows. Just as they danced at the end of the templars’ strings, so did he to Vengeance’s. The man Anders had been would’ve hated that.
 
And suddenly it was clear to William the only way he had left to save his friend.
 
“You have to pay for what you’ve done,” he whispered.
 
“I know,” Anders agreed. Then, “You should have done this a long time ago.”
 
William pulled his dagger from its sheath. A blow between the ribcage, upward and piercing the heart would make death almost instantaneous, and less painful.
 
He put his arm around his friend to support him, and leaned close to whisper in Anders’s ear. “I’ll make it quick, my friend.”
 
William hoped the small nod of affirmation he got wasn’t just his imagination as he took a deep breath and struck the blow.
 
There was a small gasp from the healer as the knife slipped into him, as if even knowing it was coming, it still came as a surprise. William held him as Anders’s warm blood flowed over his hand, making it slippery, and he let go of the knife, just holding Anders until his breathing stopped. Laying the healer down gently, William reached up and closed his eyes. There was a look of peace such as he’d never seen before on Anders’s face. He could almost fool himself into believing the man merely slept, and he had only to shake the healer to wake him.

Once it was done he turned away, sickened. As wretched as he felt, he wondered now how Aveline could’ve done this same thing to Wesley, and emerged sane from the experience. There wasn’t enough water in all of the Free Marches to wash away the ocean of blood that stained his hands.
 
He’d called Anders a hypocrite, but William knew he was the biggest hypocrite of them all. All along, he had only been fixing the immediate symptoms of the problem in Kirkwall, sending mages to the Circle while he had been living a life of freedom and ease. The Circle should have been a haven for the mages instead of the prison Meredith had made it to be. He should have found a way to remove Meredith before it came to this. He should’ve done something—anything—but instead it had been Anders who forced the issue in a way William couldn’t have.
 
“Come on, let’s go do what we can,” he said to his remaining companions.

[sylvanaerie]

AN: I’ve tried to find a balance in this story, neither demonizing Anders’s actions nor making him the patron saint of mage freedoms. I figured despite the destruction that is canon; there would be survivors as human beings are remarkably resilient. Maybe not in the chantry itself, but in the blast zone surrounding it.
 
I thought the final two boss fights really weakened the story of the game overall. The whole Orsino/harvester battle out of context with the situation, if you side with the mages, attacking the very people there trying to help him. And the over the top ‘flying Meredith’ blew my immersion all to hell at that point. Plus, Meredith was already whacko enough without throwing the idol in the mix. Thus, my tale glosses over those two fights, focusing on the drama I did enjoy while playing.
 
As I am a big fan of Cullen, I liked the idea that he got between Meredith and my Hawke, regardless of Hawke’s class or affiliations. Perhaps more than any other, Cullen has seen the most character development over the course of the games.
 
Chapter Four
 
Aveline was worried there would be aftershocks as she, Donnic, a troop of six of her best guards and Merrill moved through the rubble in the courtyard, looking for survivors. While some of the closest buildings surrounding the chantry and courtyard were damaged in the blast, it seemed that most of the force and debris had been blown up and then out.
 
A troop of half a dozen templars, obviously just coming on duty that morning, accosted them in the rubble strewn courtyard as Merrill was healing a woman with a head wound.
 
“Stand back, apostate,” said one who appeared to be leading them, an older man with a balding pate. “What has happened here?”
 
Aveline got between them, Donnic and Harley flanking her, their united front making the frightened church troops back away.
 
“She wasn’t responsible, and she’s helping, in case you’re too blind or stupid to notice. Would you really kill a healer saving the lives of these people?” Aveline pointed out. “We have too many injured civilians to help and protect for you to bother playing nursemaid to eternity this morning.”
 
Though they didn’t look pleased, the templars backed off and began to help the city guard. Merrill looked up at Aveline, gratefully.
 
“Thank you, Aveline.”
 
“We’ll probably encounter more of that later. Sebastian, go with the templars, keep them on task. If they give you any trouble, let me know. Donnic, go check the houses to the west. Harley, go south, Brennan north. Take a man with each of you. We’ll all meet at the Vicount’s keep with any wounded we can find who can walk. Come here to fetch me or Merrill if you find any that can’t. Organize some of the civilians to gather food and water, and see what buildings are safe and can be used as shelters and what needs to be evacuated.”
 
With the additional manpower supplied by the templars, the guard moved through Hightown, finding survivors, setting aside the dead and clearing pathways through the rubble.
 
They found some early morning market goers pinned under debris, and set to freeing the survivors. A chanter was found dead under a portion of collapsed wall, some papers she had been posting on the chanter’s board scattered near her body, but the child under her was alive.
 
At first, Merrill had been calm and reassuring as she attended the injured, but Aveline was seeing little cracks in that calm beginning to form as they moved along the rubble strewn city streets. She kept looking in the direction of Hawke’s estate, growing more and more distracted and short with everyone, and it wasn’t hard for Aveline to figure out what was wrong. 
 
“I have to go check on Orana,” said Merrill. “Hawke’s home isn’t far from here.”
 
“I’ll come with you,” Aveline said.
 
At the Hawke estate, they saw portion of wall had been smashed in by a large chunk of debris, leaving a huge hole where the fireplace in the main hall used to be, but the main structure itself appeared sound. Sitting on the steps was Orana, Duke at her side. A small bag of groceries was near her feet, knocked over on the ground, food tumbled out into the dust.
 
“She’s a little shocked and bruised,” Merrill said. “But she seems mostly unhurt.”
 
“Orana,” Aveline tried to get her attention.
 
“I went out to the market this morning…and…and…there was this light…. What happened?” Orana stammered.
 
“An…accident, but Hawke is taking care of everything,” said Aveline carefully after deciding not to overwhelm the simple elven woman. She had groceries, perhaps a task to attend to would take her mind off the disaster this morning.  “You have food, I’d like you to take it to the keep, my guards will distribute it.”
 
“Yes, Mistress. Where…where is the Master?”
 
“Hawke is fine, Orana, don’t worry,” said Merrill. “Duke, go with her to the keep. Protect her.”
 
The dog barked and wagged his tail, always excited at the prospect of a walk.
 
“Hawke is still alive, I just know it,” Merrill asserted when she saw Aveline’s dubious expression.
 
Aveline paused, Merrill’s confidence bolstering her own faltering faith in their companion, then she nodded. “If anyone can survive this, it’s Hawke.”
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
They’d been forced to retreat to a fortified position in the Harrowing chamber, and so far were holding their own, even winning against the waves of templars Meredith sent after them, but Orsino completely lost control when he saw the bodies of their enemies and allies begin to fall around them.
 
He began rambling about blood magic, panicking. William tried to talk him down but he had never been very good with words. Talking about Quentin and his research, Orsino began casting, absorbing the bodies around him into one monstrous whole.
 
At that point, William was glad Orsino had turned himself into just another crazed blood mage-abomination to kill. Quentin had murdered his mother, and apparently with Orsino’s complicity. William wondered just how much aid Orsino had given him.
 
In the end it mattered little, since Orsino was dead as well, and it hadn’t brought William much satisfaction to kill the First Enchanter.
 
The aftermath was quiet.  The battle seemed to have quieted down now that Orsino was dead. At least no further templars were entering the chamber, and they decided to emerge and see what was happening in the rest of the Gallows. Cautiously, they left the chambers. Stepping over the bodies of shades, abominations, mages and templars, they emerged into the courtyard.
 
It seemed to William that there weren’t nearly enough bodies to account for the number of mages in the Gallows. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like some had escaped through the underground tunnels where they had confronted Ser Alrik. That incident seemed a lifetime ago.
 
Not even considering fleeing himself, his companions refused to leave his side either. They had to buy the mages as much time as they could.
 
“Doubtless Meredith and her templars are waiting,” he warned.
 
“Then, we’ll give them a fight they won’t soon forget,” said Fenris, hefting his blade.
 
“Hawke, I…” Isabela began.
 
“After this, we go sailing away on that ship of yours, Isabela. She’s too beautiful to waste just sitting in a port.”
 
She smiled. “It’ll be an adventure.”
 
Outside a score of templars waited for them, and at their head, Meredith, flanked by Knight-Captain Cullen. Steeling himself, William walked down the steps toward her.
 
“And here we are, Champion, at long last.”
 
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done here, Meredith,” William warned.
 
“I’ll be rewarded for what I’ve done here, in this world and the next. I’ve done nothing but my duty. What happens to you now is your own fault.”
 
Madness. It shone in every line of her face. It was familiar. Where had he seen that look before?
 
“You were never part of this Circle, and I tolerated that, but in defending them you’ve chosen to share their fate.”
 
Cullen frowned then stepped to the fore. “Knight-Commander, I thought we intended to arrest the Champion?”
 
“You will do as I command, Cullen.”
 
He shook his head. “No. I defended you when Thrask started whispering you were mad, but this is too far.”
 
“I will not allow insubordination!” Meredith shrieked. “We must stay true to our path!”
 
She pulled her blade, a long, wicked-looking two handed sword, and brandished it at the knight-captain. Flashes of red fire flowed along its length, sending tiny sparks rushing along the blade.
 
“Andraste’s dimpled butt cheeks!” gasped Varric. “It’s the idol, Hawke!”
 
“You recognize it do you not, dwarf?” Meredith said with a sly grin. Her fingers caressed the blade like a lover. “Pure lyrium, taken from the deep roads. Your brother charged a great deal for his prize.”
 
Yeah, that was it, Bartrand. That’s where he’d seen that particular brand of crazy-face before.
 
Just one more hurdle to overcome before William got to her. It would be dealt with as he dealt with all other obstacles.
 
“Turning the idol into a fancy sword won’t save you!” William challenged.
 
Turning to her templars, Meredith commanded, “All of you, I want him dead!”
 
Confused, the men and women surrounding them looked from Meredith to Cullen and back again.
 
“Enough!” Cullen said, trying to regain control of the situation. “This is not what the Order stands for. Knight-Commander, I order you to step down. You are relieved of command.”
 
Meredith’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. “My own knight-captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic!” She spun, the blade coming dangerously close as the templars flanking her stepped back to avoid it. “You all have! You’re all weak!” she spat contemptuously, growing more and more out of control. “You’ve allowed the mages to control your minds, to turn you against me!”
 
“But I don’t need any of you, I’ll protect this city myself,” she hissed, her blade pointing at William, she glared over it, the fire dancing along its edge reflected in the madness of her eyes.
 
Drawing his blade, Cullen stepped between them.
 
“You’ll have to go through me first!” he vowed.
 
“Idiot boy, just like all the others,” Meredith hissed. “So be it….”
 
                                    *                                  *                                  *
 
William stood on the deck of the Siren’s Call, Isabela’s ship, Duke standing at his side. Merrill was nearby, watching him, while Isabela stood next to her. William was pretending to watch the horizon with great interest, but he was listening to them talk quietly together. Isabela was telling Merrill about the fight at the Gallows. 
 
“So, Kitten, that’s what happened.”
 
“She really went crazy and attacked everyone, even the knight-captain?”
 
“Yep, then in the middle of everything, when we thought it couldn’t get any crazier, the idol just shattered. Next thing we knew, she was a giant chunk of lyrium.”
 
“So, if he was going to arrest him, why didn’t the Knight-Captain take William?”
 
“Because he’s a smart one, that boy. I’m guessing he figured we were all more trouble than we were worth, especially after Hawke gave him that same crazy, dangerous look of his that always melts my…resolve.”
 
William grinned. How Isabela always managed to make the simplest thing sound remarkably naughty never ceased to amuse him. The grin faded at their next words, his worries returning to mind again, making the almost permanent scowl on his face return.
 
“Then why is William so sad? He won, didn’t he? The mages escaped, Meredith was defeated. I would think that would make him happy.”
 
“Because this victory came at a great price, Kitten. A lot of mages are going to die in the coming battles. We’ll go where we’re needed to help, but a lot of good people on both sides are going to die. And Hawke had to…kill someone close to him. That changes a person.”
 
“What do I do to help him then?”
 
Without looking at her, he knew Isabela smiled. Her voice had that tone to it. “Just be yourself, Kitten. That’s all Hawke needs.”
 
William put his arm around her when Merrill came to stand beside him. Together they watched the coast slipping away into the horizon.
 
“Will you miss them? Varric and the others?” she asked.
 
William nodded. “They were good friends.”
 
“Varric will make sure to spread the tale. He’ll make it a good one,” she assured him. “Is it all right…? I mean…do you mind if I miss Anders too?” she asked.
 
He looked into eyes the color of new green leaves and smiled.
 
“You’ll have to miss him for both of us, love. I can’t wash away that blood with an ocean between us and Kirkwall. Somehow, I have to forget what happened.”
 
And of all the people he’d failed to protect, Anders was the failure that stung the most. He would have to focus on those he was able to help, and that had to be enough when the doubts would come back to haunt him.
 
Her gaze encompassed Isabela, who stood near the bow enjoying the sea spray, and Orana nearby twining cord into rope.
 
“Then I will. After all, it’s a Keeper’s job to remember, and I have a clan of three to look after now,” she said.
 
The End

And a Snapshot of my William Hawke.  I really had a great deal of fun playing him.