A/N: I don't own anything here. It all belongs to Bioware.
~I swear to you, I will come back and find your precious Anders. I will teach him what true justice is.~
The arrow nicked her ear as it sailed past, splintering as it buried itself deep in the trunk. Marian Hawke had been drowsing against the tree moments before-if not for the flash of sunlight on metal, she wouldn't have moved in time.
She scrambled behind the tree as a second arrow sprouted from the dirt at her feet. There was no mistaking the identity of the archer. The brown and white fletching, the carefully crafted arrows, the barely contained rage simmering in the air as each shot missed its target by the smallest of fractions, Sebastian Vael had found them.
She prayed to Andraste, the Maker, anyone who would listen to keep Anders from stepping back into the clearing now. The three months since Anders destroyed Kirkwall's Chantry and started a revolution had done nothing to quench Sebastian's thirst for justice. She still remembered the fire in his eyes as he vowed to track Anders down, the threat of what he would do when he found him left unspoken.
Her stomach clenched. Had it really come to this?
"It's good to see you too, Sebastian," she shouted, hoping if Anders was close enough he'd hear her and stay put.
The last thing she need was a Justice/Vael showdown. Though the fade spirit was powerful, she couldn't predict what Sebastian would do to turn the fight in his favor.
"There's still a chance for you. Surrender the abomination, Hawke."
He called from the cluster of trees at the far end of the clearing. She didn't dare stick her head out or try to catch a glimpse of him. All he needed was one good shot and she'd be damned if she was going to give it to him that easily.
"He's not here," she said, "You're wasting your time."
"He's nearby, of that, I'm certain," he said, "I'm not the fool you take me for-"
"I won't let you kill him."
The sweat on her palms iced over, and she had to force herself to hold the spell in check. He was out of sight and too far away for her to waste mana on a blind casting. She'd used the last of their lyrium, her mana spent on an arrogant prick of a bandit and his opportunistic, idiot followers. It seemed everywhere they went, someone recognized them, and thanks to the rather sizable bounty on their heads, no one was quick to look the other way.
She wondered now if Vael had something to do with that. Whether he'd set aside the funds himself or called in every favor to every nobleman from Fereldan to Orlais, she couldn't be certain. She did know she didn't have the energy to fight him.
A volley of arrows rained down from the sky. She tried to roll out of the way, but there were too many. She felt not one or two but three nick her right arm, her hip, and her shoulder as she scrambled for better cover. He'd used that trick more times than she could remember, but she felt a pang of sympathy for everyone he'd killed with that maneuver.
"This is your last chance," he said, "I don't want to kill you. I haven't forgotten all you've done for me."
"Oh really? You could have fooled me."
"He must pay for what he's done. You know this is right. This is Justice."
Blood trickled down her arm.
"Justice or vengeance? From where I'm sitting they both look the same. I doubt the Grand Cleric would have approved."
It was the wrong thing to say. She felt it as the words left her lips and another arrow splintered too close to her fingers for comfort. Carver had warned her she didn't know when to shut her mouth. They were barely speaking before she'd sent him off to the Grey Wardens, but after? Siding with the mages and Orsino had fractured their relationship beyond repair.
Until Mother's murder, it was her biggest regret. The thought made the ice crackle and creep up her wrists. She could still see Quentin's face as clear as the day her heart broke. No matter how desperate times were she couldn't imagine using her blood to destroy someone else's life, not even to save Anders or Mother.
Where was Anders? He'd left the camp to find food. Her pitiful attempts to hunt had yielded unmentionable results. He'd fared better, bringing back meat that was edible; a stark contrast to the half charred, half frozen fish she'd caught the night before and the bear who decided she looked too tasty to ignore. Sebastian's footsteps moved closer, so quiet she almost missed the soft crunch of leaves underfoot.
She sucked in a deep breath. What she wouldn't give to see Isabela right about now. She tensed, ready to round on him, but as she stood, she felt a cold blade press against her throat. An arm curled around her waist, pinning one arm to her side while she jerked the other free. She reached back, energy surging free in a cool arc.
She heard him yelp as the ice spell struck him in the face. At least, it should have. He twisted, losing his balance but not his grip on her waist, and the spell was flung wide. They crashed to the ground as it struck the tree, the leaves, the bushes, encasing everything in a thick layer of ice. Her energy spent, she lay still. The weight of his body pinned her to the ground.
His breath came in ragged at her ear. The knife was gone; he'd dropped it in the confusion.
"That was foolish," he said.
"Says the fool."
"I'm not the one consorting with abominations and murderers."
As he shifted his weight, she slammed her head back as hard as she could. She felt her skull connect with the soft tissue of his nose. He jerked back and she twisted under him, turning just enough to land a solid punch to his jaw.
Her knuckles popped from the force, pain sparking up her arm like lightning. She didn't wait for him to recover, she pushed him back off her and staggered to her feet. Her staff was resting neatly beside her pack; if she could just reach it-
A hand clamped down on her ankle and she felt the whole world shift. She crashed to the ground as Sebastian lurched forward. He straddled her waist, hands pinning her wrists high above her head.
"I'm sorry, Hawke," he said, "This is the only way."
His expression was apologetic, his eyes dark with regret, and he hesitated for what felt like an eternity. She could only stare up at him, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind screamed. She can't die here. She can't die now and leave Anders to find her body.
But Sebastian didn't go for her throat. He didn't unsheathe a dagger and gut her like the trout they tried and failed to eat the night before-his free hand touched her cheek. He stared into her eyes as a burst of the most brilliant lightning Hawke has ever seen struck him.
They both screamed, and he collapsed, eyes rolling back in his head as he slipped out of consciousness. She struggled against his weight before familiar hands hauled him off her.
"Maker, are you alright?"
She nodded. Blue light flickered in Anders' eyes as he struggled to keep Justice in check. He kissed her hard. His fingers tangled in her hair.
"We don't have much time," she said when she finally pulled away.
A smart person would have killed him. A smart person would have sided with the Templars at Kirkwall. A smart person wouldn't have fallen hard for an apostate. But no one ever said Marian Hawke was a smart woman.
There was something about the mage she just couldn't resist. When he looked at her like that, like she was the only woman left in the world- a shiver ran through her. She relieved Sebastian of his weapons and deposited them in a pile while Anders bound Sebastian's hands and ankles. Her hands shook and her breath came in ragged.
"He's just going to keep hunting us."
"If we leave now, we'll have a good head start by the time he frees himself."
It was just a matter of time. Once Sebastian woke up, they were in trouble. She wanted to put as much distance between them as they possibly could before that happened. Anders gave her a sad smile. Neither one of them had the energy to walk until morning, but the alternative was too terrible to consider.
She didn't want to kill him. After everything, losing Bethany, losing Mother, the destruction of the Chantry at Anders' hands, Carver's induction into the Grey Wardens, and death after death after death-it made her sick to her stomach. Anders stooped to retrieve her staff. She wasn't getting caught without it again, even if she had to tie it to her hand while she slept.