A/N: Hello everyone! First Fan Fiction story in nearly a decade! I REALLY would appreciate constructive criticism, because I want to continue the story and I could really use some help. This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but I want to expand on how I perceived the relationships post Act III in DAII.

I am using my Mage Hawke from one of my playthroughs.

R/R! Please enjoy!

Chapter 1-Spared

"There can be no peace."

It was over. The sky was scarred; violent colors splayed out in ragged patterns across the expansive canvas. Ash and cinder began to fall, as gut wrenching screams played out a somber funeral wail. Eyes were frozen to the scene of fire and chaos; no words could be uttered. Fear of shattering what was left of the past with a single breath was too potent. Shock reverberated through the group, pinging along each member's face in different shades of agonized horror.

Save for one.

He stood there, unapologetic and stoic; eyes closed, taking in the rampant destruction he had created. A glazed smile crawled to his lips, and settled there, making a permanent home. He had done it. Justice had been served. The spirit that entwined his soul was sated, undeniably appeased at the climax of their nearly decade long journey.

As the gray dust began to settle around his feet, hushed whispers, angry shouts, and pitiful sobs penetrated his small moment of peace and victory. His eyes remained closed, unwilling for the first time, to walk down the right path.

He slowly turned around, not meeting anyone's eyes for a moment. But he could not avoid the burning heat of betrayal reflected toward him in amber flames. He took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to meet those of the woman who would decide how his story would end.

He expected the slight twinge of pain and guilt that fell to his stomach when he finally made contact with her eyes. To expect anything less would be foolish. What he didn't foresee, however, the twisting his heart made when her lips parted, in a silent scream. Broken. He felt the closeness they had shared for the past several years break apart. Her molten eyes were two angry slits of fire, and for a brief, weak moment, he wished he had never known her, never known that maybe, just maybe, it didn't need to end this way. But his cause was Just, and he knew that this moment would come. He accepted it, as he knew he always would.

An assault of questions and accusations rained down on him. He recited his mantra to them, damning Orsino's lack of true effort, condemning Meredith's vendetta. He spoke with conviction, all on his own. Justice was fully integrated into him now, and he let the truth of his plan speak as loudly as he could. The Circle had failed them, he couldn't let the punishments and abuse continue under Chantry rule.

"I removed the chance of compromise, because there is no compromise."

As he finished, he glanced over toward the one woman that had not given into the rage churning within her.

As her eyes cooled from lava to stone, she turned around and faced the rest of the party. Meredith wore a look that could only be described as maddening. She spit as she spoke, demanding the Champion's support to proceed with the Right of Annulment. Orsino was incredulous, frantically shouting that the sins of one mage should not condemn the entire Circle. He could see Orsino's plea was useless, just as it always had been. Meredith's rage and hatred and burst from the loose confines of her soul, and she was determined to protect her city, no matter what the cost.

He listened to these proceedings with a detached expression. He felt other furious eyes on him, from one barbaric individual in particular. The glow of the elf's intricate tattoos was nearly blinding, and his face was contorted in an ugly twist of fury. They stared each other down briefly, warrior and mage. When the elf realized the man had nothing to offer, not a fight, not a plea, he growled softly. His clawed gauntleted hand twitched eagerly. The mage for his part, just contemplated him speculatively, no more childish remarks or jealous quips. He knew the elf had won. Denying it would only make his cause less worthy, less justified.

Then, a brief wave of silence echoed, before the Champion's quiet, low voice rang with conviction in that hollow space.

"I'm not helping you Meredith."

With that single, softly spoken statement, Meredith could no longer control her barely concealed ire. Her blue eyes glazed over with foreign gaze, inhuman and crazed.

"You are a fool Champion," She said in fiery whisper. Meredith's voice carried over the screams and dusty haze.

"Kill them all. I will rouse the rest of the order!"

And with that, chaos began. The mage felt life spring into his hands once more as he twirled his staff and aimed. This was not what I wanted, she wasn't supposed to become involved. His thoughts ran wild as he shot bolts of lighting at a Templar charging toward him. He glanced to his left and the breath in his body left him.

She was there, in beautiful fury, thrusting her staff in every direction as she took on three Templars at once. Her blond hair whipped around her face, framing the delicate features that they had all come to know and love. Looking closer, he saw the heat in her eyes, the taut way she held her mouth as more bodies fell at her feet. It was an aura of grim desperation and resolve that guided her magic, shielding any of her companions that may fall. And he knew where that despair came from. He knew her too well.

The weight of another decision was now burdened once again on her shoulders, and he knew that she realized that this may be the last one she ever made.

In a matter of minutes the battle was over. For now, the Templars had fallen, and the party was mostly uninjured. The mage settled back, away from the people he once regarded as his surrogate family. He knew there was no happy ending to this, and he was prepared. He sat on a crate, looking straight ahead, drowning himself in memories.

He remembered the first time he met her. The memory was vivid and bright, as if it were happening all over again. He had thought her a trespasser, an enemy. But when he whirled around to face the intruder, he only saw a small blonde woman, with tawny eyes staring resolutely back at him. And he knew that this was no ordinary encounter, no common mage. Nothing was average about the quiet, and dedicated woman that he began to fall in love with.

And yet...if only things had turned out differently. If only he hadn't pressed her constantly, begging for her support when she had so many others to care for. If only he had been the one to come to her aid when her mother fell at the hands of one of their own. He allowed himself to be completely consumed with the cause. He had been blind to her needs, her desires, her fears.

And then the damned elf had materialized into her life. Arrogant, barbaric and proclaiming a profound hatred for all things tainted by magic. He had seen the look on her face when the warrior, in his uncontrolled banter lashed out at her, the only person that had even bothered to understand him, despite being the very thing he despised. His indignant anger after the elf stormed off was brushed off by a gentle touch on the arm from her. She was hurt, but not angry. Even after the fool left her, she still waited, patiently and quietly, as she did with all of them.

As she did with him. And he betrayed her, after everything. The weight sat upon him like a giant boulder. He prayed for it to crush him soon.

He caught the end of Orinso's farewell as he came back to reality, the smoke and debris alerting him to the fact that he could not escape this painful conclusion for long.

"I will leave your...friend for you deal with. I must return to the Gallows. Meet me there as soon as you can."

As Orisno fled the area, the Champion's shoulders sagged, her small form seeming to wither in front of them. The elf made a move to go to her, but the dwarf held up his arm, blocking access. Slowly she turned around, her features as still and hard as if they were etched in stone. She made her way over to where the apostate sat, standing behind him.

This was it. The moment of judgment had finally caught up with him. He took a deep breath, refusing to turn and meet her gaze. He needed her to understand, like she did before. Like she had always done.

"There's nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself. I took a spirit into my soul and changed myself forever to achieve this. This is the justice all mages have awaited." His voice rang with his determination, and he felt a pang of pride for keeping his voice so steady.

"Did that spirit tell you to do this?" she finally asked, her voice smoldering but it carried hope that this may not be all of his doing. He almost smiled, thinking that, once again, she was too good for this world. Only she would give him the benefit of the doubt after seeing what they had all just witnessed.

He sighed softly.

"No, when we merged he ceased to be. We are one now. I can no longer endure the injustice of the Circle than he could."

There was a slight pause as she took a deep breath, trying to hold on to her temper.

"I might have understood if you'd only told me." The bitterness in her voice tore another piece of his heart.

"I wanted to tell you. But what if you stopped me? Or worse. What if you wanted to help? I couldn't let you do that." His voice broke slightly, faltering on the last line. He struggled to keep his calm, and continued to stare off in the distance.

"The world needs to see this. Then we can all stop pretending the Circle is the solution. If I pay for that with my life, then I pay. Perhaps at least Justice would be free..."

He felt her sharp intake of breath as it seemed to finally dawn on her, She remained silent for a moment, and then he heard her quiet voice ask, "Opinions?"

He almost laughed. After all of the difficult decisions she has made, after he had even told her that he knew he was prepared to die, she didn't want to make this decision alone. He felt another tug at his heart, and his eyes grew misty as he realized that despite her anger, she was unwilling to forfeit his life.
Maker, what have I done?

The mage sat on the crate, absentmindedly listening to the others' views on what should be done with him. To him, it didn't matter what any of them thought anymore. He had disconnected himself from everyone, even the dwarf, who had become a sympathetic ear over the years. He was alone.

The brother was demanding his head on a platter. To the mage's surprise, he felt a small surge of compassion for the man. He looked like he wanted to tear out his hair, cry and slaughter everything in sight at the same time. The mage remembered feeling that way on a daily basis. No one deserved to feel like their insides were being torn in two. He sighed. What's done is done.

Idly, he did hear the blood mage speak up, asking that he would be made to repent if he was taken along with them. His lip twitched as he thought of the little elf being the one to ask for his redemption. If he could feel anything beyond resignation, he may have felt a pang of guilt at berating her on a daily basis. As it was, he could barely feel his own skin.

He felt her move again behind him, heard her fingers running up and down her staff. The silence was agonizing, as he waited with baited breath. He could feel the pulsating heat from her body, still adjusting after the skirmish. A faint scent of vanilla and lavender invaded his nose. The smell triggered his memory, remembering that she would stick some behind her ears and on her wrists after they had finished a battle. She hated the expensive perfumes displayed in the market. She was so natural and simple.

So Hawke.

She remained still as stone. He couldn't take it anymore.

"Whatever you do, just do it."

A pause. Brief and fleeting.

"Help me defend the mages."

Her voice was soft, but clear. The shocked gasps behind her made their way to Ander's ears, but he ignored them.

"You mean..." he shakily stood around to face her. He locked eyes with her. Hawke's face was still an unmoving mask, but her eyes confirmed what he had heard.

"Stay with you? I didn't think you'd let me."

She said nothing in response, just kept her cool eyes trained on him.

He found a lightening of his heart, as he straightened his shoulders. Perhaps there was something he could still do to make her see. To make her understand that what he did was necessary, That what he did was Just.

"But if you do, I'll fight the Templars. Damned right I will!"

"No!" The brother prince finally had reached his limit. He stormed up to Hawke and shouted in her face. "You cannot let this abomination walk free. He dies or I am returning to Starkhaven and I will bring such an army with me on my return that there will be nothing left of Kirkwall for these maleficarum to rule." His threat burned in the wake of the destruction and chaos. But Hawke was not a force to be trifled with.

"Do not interfere Sebastian." The words rang out in the vacant streets of Lowtown. Her once soft spoken demeanor was gone. Hawke's eyes matched the heat in bereaved brother, and she clutched her staff tightly at her side. Sebastian looked at her with a sudden sadness, as if he always knew it would have come down to this moment, one way or another.

"I will not fight you Hawke. My death now would serve nothing," The prince's fury returned swiftly as his eyes found Anders, and spit out every word in his direction, even as he addressed the Champion. "I will return to Starkhaven, but I swear to you I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is."

And with that, Sebastian walked out into the hazy din that remained of the city, and disappeared.

All of the remaining companions looked toward their leader, who had bowed her head after the departure of the prince. Anders heard her take another controlled breath, and the pang of guilt he had felt earlier, widened a canyon in his heart. He made a move to comfort her, when he heard a low growl from across the courtyard. He sighed and took a step back.

"Thank you for my life. I will try not to make such a mess of it this time," he said, with a small quirk on his lips.

Her head snapped up as she looked at him. For a moment, he was frightened; her eyes were vacant holes, distorted from an anguish he could not even hope to understand. There was great pain in those eyes, that no spell of his could ever heal. Then, as quickly as the moment came, it was gone, She shifted away from him and turned to the rest of the group.

"Let us go," she said simply. She turned once again, and headed toward the screams and the clatter of swords on staffs, her faithful companions at her back.