He couldn't do it.

He had left the city to bring it do an end, but now he felt unable to do so. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face before him. Her eyes, as green as emeralds, in her heart shaped face. Her copper hair, silken and soft. Her cherry lips – they even tasted like cherries. Her bright soft skin, hiding her strength. The nearly invisible lines of that facial tattoo she had, slightly darker than her skin. She never told him the story behind it, and someday he had forgotten to ask.

She was all silk and steel, he remembered.

And she would never appreciate what he was going to do. What he had to do.

Because she never understood, even if she was trying to. But she had also been right. How often had she tried to show him what he had become? And how often he resisted to listen?

In the end, she had succeeded, showing him his broken, shattered self. She had showed him that his presumed friend had made of him. She had forced him to atone in the cruelest possible way – fighting alongside the Templars against his fellow mages.


"Why do you want me to this? Why not simply kill me, as Sebastian demanded? You would've done the right thing, you know?"

Her eyes narrowed, she shook her head. She was all steel now, not a hint of silk was in her voice while she answered.

"No, it weren't. If I had killed you, Justice would've won." She was looking over her shoulder, glancing at the streets behind her, fearing for the desperate mages approaching her. "And you need to atone for what you've done. You know that as sure as I do."

"Justice is ranting inside me. I fear I cannot longer contain him…" He summoned fire into his open hands. "Why do you don't see how wrong all of this is? Meredith's insane; she's going to punish all the mages here for something I've done. And you want me to take part in it."

"Listen, I know she's a roaring lunatic, alright? But I don't care. I hope I can stop her from killing the innocents she will certainly hurt. She would kill me, us both, all of my friends, if I hadn't chosen the Templars. This way I can at least hope to stop her before she goes too far… to calm her down, maybe…"

He laughed harshly. "You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

"I try to." She stopped, her face hardened. "Oh, Maker… not again!"

She spun around, cold glow dancing around her fingers, and threw her magic against the two mages approaching them. Magical ice was covering their bodies, freezing them while she stepped back and prepared her next spell.

She wasn't fast enough. One of the two mages shattered the ice covering him and approached her; his face was all anger and desperation. He threw his hands at her, madness in his eyes, capturing her in four pulsating strings of raw energy – energy what was suddenly and painfully piercing through her skin. She tried to move, but she failed, the crushing prison moving with every of her steps.

He acted as he did a hundred times before, by throwing am exploding ball of fire against the mage. The heat was melting the ice covering the second mage. Anders stepped back, checking on his magical reserves. Taking a deep breath, he casted a large glyph around the two hostile mages. They both froze from one second to another, giving him enough time to look after his own companions.

Especially her.

She was leaning against a wall not far from him, her face was pale and blood drenched her clothes and glued her hair together.

"Lori, no!" he moaned. "Hang in there! Please!"

"Damn…" she answered with a raspy voice. "Hadn't the time to counter this bloody spell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"You need much less to worry me, you know." He sighed.

He heard someone screaming behind him and spun around. Something – someone – glowing was slashing the two mages he had just paralyzed with an immense greatsword, absolutely quiet and quickly. The mages had no chance, neither to flee nor to defend themselves. Blood was covering their bodies, drenching their robes and ponding beneath their feet. Anders gasped then a severed head dropped right before his feet.

The glowing vanquished from one moment to another, but not so the warrior.

Fenris frowned. His Lyrium branded body looked tensed to the bones.

"Hawke? How is she?" He approached the two of them, glancing at Lori – and the blood and her sores – and suddenly looked surprisingly worried. "Why haven't you healed her already?"

Anders was fighting the anger boiling in him. "I wanted to, Fenris. You disrupted me."

Fenris' frown deepened. "Good then."

Anders no longer paid attention to the elf. He touched his connection to the Fade and called upon it, holding his hand over her body until they started to shine with warm healing light, kissing her injured skin and flesh. Her sores closed before his eyes, with only her blood remaining.

"Thanks." She looked at Fenris, smiling. "To you too."

"Always, Hawke", the elf answered.

She nodded firmly and stepped back from the wall. "Have you seen any other enemies?"

"Yes, but they're already dead or flying."

"That's good, I guess." She stroke some strands of her hair off her face. "Any of the others?"

"I'd seen Varric. He's fine, I think, and on his way. Aveline is with her guardsmen. She will join forces with us in the Gallows."

"What's with Carver? Isabela? Merrill?"

"I haven't seen any of them."

"Alright then…" She squared her shoulders. "Let's move."


Anders had left Kirkwall as soon as the fights were over. She had tried to stop him, of course she had. She wouldn't be herself if she hadn't tried to convince him otherwise. She had been always so eager to save him – from the Templars, from Justice, from himself. He had thought that he had escaped her judging eyes, her angry frown and her bidding voice. He should've known better.

There was no way of escaping her. She had haunted him in his dreams for years, and she had been in his thoughts when he was awake. Even in this moment he was still aching for her, part of him begging for her forgiveness and a second chance.

This woman had drawn him out of the last hints of his pride. I would have been easy to hate her, to loath her, but instead he had taken the difficult way – of loving her, despite the fact that she obviously wasn't interested in helping him fighting for the mages' freedom.

He sat down, sighing, burying his face in his hands.

Was it Anders who refused to die or was it Justice?

He was already a dead man.

He died a long time ago. Anders died the day he allowed Justice to inhabit his body.

He was neither the one nor the other. He was Anders and he was Justice, but they didn't make him a whole. Parts of them both had vanquished when he and the spirit had merged.

Justice wasn't Justice any longer, and neither was Anders. He always wondered if he would be still able to exist when Justice were leaving. He doubted it.

But maybe Justice could survive. Maybe return to his former self, as he himself definitely could not. Maybe, with this body deadh, Justice could return to the Fade – not as Vengeance the demon, but as the spirit he had been once.

Wasn't it worth a try?

He tried to summon fire into his hands, but nothing happened. Part of him was refusing.


Nothing was left the Knight-Commander than a screaming Lyrium sculpture, standing right in the middle of the Gallow's courtyard, still holding that sword in its hands. The sculpture had little resemblance to Meredith. It looked grotesque, like a skeleton or a mummy, covered with red Lyrium.

The Templars knelt around them. It was a strange sight.

She appeared to be utterly surprised, frowning, stepping back from the remains of Meredith Stannard, then shaking her head.

Cullen was the first to rise. The Knight-Captain had surprised not only Anders by first opposing Meredith then she was about to kill a bunch of mages who had surrendered, then by refusing to help her kill Lori. Now the Templar approached her with a serious expression in his face.

"I know, this is unusual, but the city will demand a new Viscount, Messere Hawke."

She lifted an eyebrow. "I'm still a mage, in case you've forgotten."

"What choices do we have? Dumar is dead, as is his son. Grand Cleric Elthina died in the chantry, and you've seen what happened to Meredith. You're the only person of note left."

Lori sighed. "That's kind of you, but I have to refuse. Magic is to serve people, not rule them. I don't desire to rule anything."

"Then I have to find another candidate, I guess." Cullen sighed. "Perhaps it's better that way. Can Kirkwall still count on your help, Champion?"

She nodded firmly. "I'm right here if you need me."

Turning around, she crossed the courtyard, going away from Meredith remains. Anders followed her quietly. He wished he could stay with her, but after what he had done – what Justice had done! – he felt the need to rip his own heart out or burning himself into ashes.

She stopped, looking towards the fires burning in Kirkwalls streets.

"So you're going to leave?" she said finally, her voice soundless and quiet.

"Yes." His tongue and mouth tasted like ashes.

"Is there anything I can say to stop you from… doing this?"

"No", he answered in a low voice.

Finally she turned around to him. Although there were no tears in her eyes, he could sense that she was sad – and angry at him.

"I won't let you kill yourself. I won't lose you, listen?"

"To live the rest of my life as an abomination, knowing that I've done to these innocent people, to the mages, to Justice? What I've done to you?"

"Yes. To atone for it, every day. Do you really think this was enough?"

"It's all about atonement with you! You're atoning your whole life for something you had been born with!"

"That's ridiculous! I don't atone for being a mage, Anders."

"That's what you're telling yourself!" He signed.

"Anders… stop it. Now." Her eyes narrowed. "I won't discuss my atonement with you."

He sighed, resisted the urge to kiss her, to touch her silken skin and her soft hair. If he would give into it, he would never be able to leave. And he had to.

"You won't stop me. I already told you what I'm going to do."

"Seems I have to enchain you to keep you from this madness."

"As I said you once, I won't let anyone enchain me. Not even you, Sweetheart."

"Then leave! Throw your life away. Do you honestly believe I'll miss you?" Her voice sounded harsh and bitter, and abruptly she spun around and walked away.

Anders felt his heart shattering, and parts of him urged him to follow her, to say that he was sorry, that he didn't want to leave her, but be with her. He had never seen her cry. But he knew her for six years, he knew when she was deeply hurt.

His heart wasn't the only shattered one in this courtyard.

He finally managed it – breaking her heart.

Nothing had ever felt so horrible. Not even his overwhelming compunction.


At least she would not come after him. Would not try to stop him. He had hurt her, shattered her, and she would never forgive him. Maybe this moment she told Sebastian that she had changed her mind, that he was free to hunt him down and slay him.

But in the deeps of his soul, he knew, he was only lying to himself.

He knew her better.

He would have to end it quickly, before she appeared and did or said something that would change his mind.

Again, he tried to summon fire and this time, the hot flames were bursting out of his hands.

"Farewell" he murmured.

It was about time –