A/N: Not mine. Was bored. You get a oneshot. It's not my best work and it isn't beta'd.
Full sentences in italics is either a whole Fade scene or a sentence from Justice. Bold and italics is Anryl.
Anryl Mahariel's eyes shifted from Anders to the decaying body of Kristoff, animated by the Fade spirit of Justice. She had known something was amiss; Anders was twitchy. Kristoff's body was fading. With the Keep and the town of Amaranthine safe from the sentient darkspawn, things were returning to normal for the Wardens.
Until Anryl found the readings Anders had left open on his desk. She was familiar with magic, not of her own possession but because of the sheer nature of the Elvhen. Merrill had, perhaps, been her closest friend in the clan aside from Tamlen. As such, Anryl often watched the First of the Keeper when she was not hunting with her other companion. She was just as intrigued with the history of her people as Merrill had been and she had sworn to her friend that she would do all she could to preserve it. This was, in fact, part of the reason that Tamlen was dead.
More importantly, the writings were something akin to the Dalish language. It was an odd mixture of Elvish, the Trade Tongue, and something Anryl was unfamiliar with. Squinting her eyes, so pale a gray as to nearly seem white, Anryl leaned over the desk in the flickering candlelight.
"Maker's break, Anryl, what are you doing?"
"I think, emma vhenan, I should be asking you that," the Warden-Commander shifted, her back cracking as she straightened it. Raking a hand back through her ebony hair, Anryl frowned a little as she turned, putting one hand against her hip. She wore no armor, only scratchy human trousers and an unfortunate blouse of questionable make. Anders stood with a glow emanating from the end of his wand to cast a blue light across his deliciously angular features. Stubble covered his cheeks, his blond hair loose from his pony-tail falling against a shirt not unlike the one that she wore.
"You will not like the answer, Anryl."
"There have been many questions to which the answers were unfavorable. That does not mean I do not have to ask them. We have been through far too much for you to be dishonest with me, Anders."
The mage sighed heavily and seemed to visibly shrink as he stood before his commander. Anryl, whom had once been rather adverse to physical closeness, took a step closer and ran her fingers gently across his rough cheek.
His hand lifted and covered hers, holding it there. His skin was soft, hers calloused from the bow and arrow she used. They were tan, though his was a smooth caramel where hers fought against the color. She was younger, considerably so. She had been barely seventeen when the Taint had caused her to join the Wardens and now, not much passed eighteen, she was almost a decade his junior. But she felt so very, very old.
"...Justice. He needs me," Anders managed, fighting with himself. Part of him wanted to pull her close but the part of him that won had him turning away from her, dropping his arms to his side and letting his staff clatter to the floor. The light that had been coming from his staff disappeared with no warning, leaving them only with the dull candlelight from beside the papers on the desk.
Anryl's mind raced as the words from the papers ran through it. Joining. Spirit. Life.
For all time.
"No," Anryl spoke without a thought, the tone of her voice stable but quiet.
"What do you mean, no? Anryl, you don't-"
"You intend to take him in," she shook her head from behind him, not daring to allow herself to move forward. "I will not allow it."
"Allow it? Anryl, you don't-"
"I am no fool, Aleš."
Anders turned on her, eyes wide. His fear, his anger, his concern were all palpable in the darkness. "How do you know?"
"Who you are? I am no fool," she repeated and smiled wanly. "I know much more than you would ever tell me. Or anyone, for that matter. It has taken me a long time and a lot of...favors to learn all that I have. And most importantly, emma lath, I have learned that you are so very, very angry."
Anders could not disagree. His initial response was of anger and he knew she was right. His shoulders slumped and he reached out, his hand resting on her slight shoulder.
"But-"
"I know, Anders," she returned to using his nickname, the name by which everyone knew him. "I understand completely. I will find my own replacement here and I will do it myself."
The decision was one she had made between reading the notes and seeing his face. She knew he was determined not to lose Justice. If Justice was so intent on staying, Anryl would be the vessel in which he survived. Or she would die in the process, releasing Justice back into the Fade. Either way, Anders would be safe both from the possibility of death and the probability of life. Anders was too dangerous to be trusted with this, something Anryl would never say out loud.
"I can't let you do that, Anryl. You have no magic, it would likely kill you."
"Demons can possess non-mages, Anders. If they can, a spirit may very well be able to do the same. Especially with a willing host. It is safer for me, at any rate. I am under much less scrutiny, not being a mage myself. Who will guess that I harbor a spirit of Justice?"
"Should this spirit of Justice not have a say in the matter?" Kristoff's voice, laced with that of the Fade spirit, spoke from Anders' doorway. Anryl suppressed a sigh.
"Of course, Justice."
In walked Kristoff. Anders took a moment, lighting the lamps, the candles, and the wood in the fireplace. The light cast long shadows on the wall but illuminated the three of them, the mage standing off as Kristoff's decaying body approached Anryl. He thought she looked delicate in those moments, vulnerable. Sweet.
"Justice." Anryl spoke decidedly, straightening her shoulders as she looked into the dead-laced eyes in front of her. The smell was beginning to become overwhelming though you would not have noticed from her resolute expression.
Silence engulfed them. It felt like hours before Kristoff's head nodded once.
"You must hurry. I do not know how long I can retain this form."
"I will prepare immediately. Anders, learn the necessary spells. We will use the tunnels the night after tomorrow."
Nathaniel, who would never admit that the elf's high cheekbones and light eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life, begrudgingly took over the position of Warden-Commander at Anryl's behest. Zevran agreed to stay on and assist as much as he could. Oghren was a little disappointed but decided he wanted no leadership role.
The moon was high and full when they descended into the fortified tunnels. Anryl's heart was beating faster than she had thought it would. Anders', however, was about ready to beat out of his chest.
It was a bad idea. It was a terrible idea. He should stop it. He should make them stop. Let Justice return to the Fade. But Justice wanted to stay. He wanted to help the mages, give them the lives they deserved.
But Anryl had been right, the spirit knew. Anryl had much less hatred in her now. She wished to rid the world of darkspawn, as shown by the destruction of both the Mother and the Architect. She had given up her friend in Alistair to do what was right with the Loghain man, to save Ferelden. She wanted the best for mages, she was fair. And she was strong. She would stay with Anders, too. This was important to Justice, although he thought their relationship was perhaps a bit distracting. It did not matter.
Anryl was the perfect choice.
Anryl was the only choice, as far she she was concerned. It was her, or it was nothing.
And so, as light exploded behind her eyes and her body prickled with pain, she quelled her screams. She was saving Anders, she was saving Justice.
And, though she did not know it, she was saving Thedas.
A figure stood off through the blurry hills of the Fade, Dalish armor covering a thing light-haired frame.
"Tamlen?"
The spirit turned. Gray eyes, unnaturally so,blinked at Anryl as she stood on the barren hill. Blackened veins ran up along his pale neck.
"Tamlen, is that you?"
The vision changed, losing the Taint as he stood before her. He moved closer, extending his hand.
"We could have been so happy, lethallan. Ma vhenan'ara."
"We could have. But you did not listen, Tamlen. I begged you to stay back . I begged you to stay with me. You would not."
"And now I will do the same for you, da'assan. Emma sa'lath, stay with me. You have done more than you were ever asked and...sahlin, sahlin na revas. Sahlin, emma lath, na shiral, na numin halam."
Anryl's heart hurt. She did not cry; she was unsure if one could in the Fade. However, the tears were not threatening to test that. She shook her head, swallowing tightly. "My journey is not over, Tamlen. I loved you once, da'mi. You remain in my heart, but there is more for me to do. I wish you rest, sweet one."
"Anryl?"
Her throat burned, her eyes were scratchy. Her head felt as though she had been pummeled by Oghren's breath as well as the Archdemon's tail. Again. And that incessant rocking was making her stomach feel queasy.
Her vision blurred as she opened her eyes.
She had lived.
"Where...where are we, Anders?"
"On a boat."
"Why in the name of Arlathan are we on a boat, Anders?"
A dull humming in the back of her head turned into words.
We are on our way to Kirkwall. Anders received word from Karl, a friend of his from the Circle Tower. We are to help him.
Justice. Justice was in her head.
Anryl's eyes returned to Anders, having rolled back a little in her head without her knowledge or support. "Kirkwall."
"Yes, Anryl. We are on our way to Kirkwall. Are you feeling all right?"
No, she thought to herself.
I can help.
And then, it was gone. All but the humming.
And, for the first time in a week, Anryl smiled. Tamlen's image faded from her mind as she settled her head in Ander's lap.
I do not-
Give me this much, Justice. It will hurt no one to let me have this.
It was true, he knew. It knew, really. Justice had no gender, though Anryl (and most everyone, really) thought of him as male. Justice knew that Anryl had given up much more than she knew to save Anders.
Just how much, only time would tell.