Identity Theft

I woke to a dark cavern and a dim recollection of what happened prior to lying there. The last thing I clearly remembered was being at the Pearl. I had met a variety of women, all of them beautiful and voluptuous, leaning seductively over me with every drink they served, giving full view of all their endowments that quivered with each deep breath.

How many pints did I drink anyway? They sort of blended together until things became irreparably fuzzy around the edges. One, two…then the blond wiggled her tush and winked over her shoulder… three, four… the red head said that the fifth pint was from the gentleman in the corner. I looked over and he wore a cloak that concealed his face, but he nodded slightly in my direction when I raised the tankard to him. Something about the eyes…can't quite remember…were they glowing? Damn! Never accept drinks from mysterious men! Mysterious women, maybe, but mysterious male skewed libations are definitely out.

I got up and took a look around, taking a deep breath I was filled with an extreme sense of foreboding. I smelled darkspawn. That could only mean that I was in the Deep Roads. Crap, who dumped me down here?

Walking to the mouth of the cavern that I had been reclining in, noticing a pale blue aura splayed across the opening, I felt more perplexed. Gingerly I brushed my fingers across it. It had obviously been some kind of barrier but at my touch is dissipated. It apparently had not been intended to keep me in; perhaps it was to keep something else out? Now it was no longer there….crap, what had I done?

There was a loud howl coming from down a long earthen corridor, shrouded in darkness. I had no idea what it was, but I did not want to find out. I cast a brief light spell to examine the room again now that the glow from the barrier no longer offered a source of illumination. There was a couple of small books, a pack with some food and a small collar with a bell.

This was Ser Pounce-a-Lot's collar. You could drug me, drop me in a cave full of dark spawn and doom me to the darkness and I could chalk that up to a bad night at the pub. However, if you hurt my cat I would hunt you down and send a lightning bolt so far up your ass, you would glow in the dark for a WEEK!

I was desperate to get out of there and find my cat. Grabbing the items hastily; I slung the pack on my back and headed into the darkness. No staff, no armor and no clue where I was headed. I closed my eyes and tried to sense the darkspawn. There was a large cluster to the east, however I sensed maybe one or two down a southern tunnel and headed in that direction. On my own, I would never be able to take on a war band, but a couple of scouts I could take. I really wished I had my hearthwood staff that Warden Commander Lucasta had given me, but I could still manage small spells by channeling natural energies with my hands.

The southern tunnel sloped downhill, so it meant it was deeper into the earth, but it was a chance I had to take.

Had I mentioned that I hate the Deep Roads?

Somewhere in my mind I channeled Sigrun. What had she said about the Deep Roads? She had been so surly any time I asked about the Legion of the Dead. I realized that I had often irked her and perhaps the questions were insensitive, but I wanted her to talk to me. She was that irresistibly impossible cross between perky and jaded. The only thing I could recall with distinct clarity was the time she asked me to kill an "evil" bush and the story she told me about her uncle eating her pet nug. None of these memories helped me in my current dilemma.

Damn, why could I never ask serious questions that would help me?

"I always thought mages would be smarter!" she had chastised me once. She was right.

"Maker," I prayed silently as I trudged through the damp darkness, "If I ever get out of this, I will act smarter. I promise!"

If I ever got back I would buy Sigrun a pint. I might even buy a pint for Nathaniel. Not Oghren.

He always had enough alcohol stored somewhere (not that I ever asked) so no one ever needed to buy him any. He once told me that he travelled with the hero of Ferelden during the Blight and she always got him the best alcohol. No one has given him alcohol since, it just materializes. I remember when he told me this he was already half drunk. He burst into tears and then fell over. Yeah, no alcohol for Oghren!

Not that I could judge him, I got into this mess by taking a pint too many.

There was another strange roar, and I pressed up against the wall of the cave. A group of about ten darkspawn stalked past, unaware of me, probably assuming I was one of them since I was concealed in the shadows. I hate the Deep Roads!

I thought of Justice. What would he think of my predicament? He would probably state that I had received what I deserved because of the shallow life that I led. He had once accused me of enslaving Ser Pounce-a-Lot and of shirking my responsibilities to my mage brethren because I chose not to actively fight mage oppression. Justice never really liked me much. Once I got him to leave me alone by mentioning what he himself had said demons were, "spirits that had been perverted by their desires." By that logic he himself could become a demon. It truly unsettled him and demanded that I remain silent. I later apologized for I had not intended to offend him, but I was tired of his self-righteous attitude.

As if summoned, I noticed a blue shimmering in the air ahead of me. The shimmer began to take shape of a man in armor with a helm. It was not solid but it had form and a familiar voice exuded from it, "Anders…I have come to ask your pardon."

"My what?" I squeaked, "Could you possibly speak a little quieter? I am in the Deep Roads and it is crawling with darkspawn."

"I know…" the phantom of Justice intoned, though he seemed to speak a little quieter, "I have done you a grave injustice…."

"You have done me a grave injustice…how is that possible? And why are you no longer in Kristoff's body? I thought you could not continue to exist in the mortal world without a host!"

He sounded impatient, "I have not much time. I am only able to maintain this spirit form by pure force of will and I can feel it fading, dissipating into nothing. I am marked for oblivion and I have earned it. Before I go, I need to inform you of what I have done."

"Fine," I acquiesced, realizing that this was probably serious, "Speak your peace, friend!"

There was an audible groan before he continued, "I am not your friend. I betrayed you in order to further an aim. You refused to act and answer the injustice that mages faced. It became too much for me to bear. Since we had defeated the Mother and the Architect I no longer had purpose. You had purpose enough but chose to ignore it. You would never have agreed to host me, so I found another in order to take on the mantle you denied. I replaced you…"

"WHAT? How?" I demanded, stalking forward and the spirit form wavered slightly.

"I found a mage. He had enough of your features…well, he had the wrong hair color and he was shorter… not to mention he had a different accent… but he was a human male and a mage so he was passable." Justice quibbled slightly; it was so strange to hear him so uncertain when normally he was so commanding.

"You replaced me with a generic mage?"

"I was desperate…" he offered, as if that made it alright.

I shook my head, "What did you do, Justice?"

"I found him. He had killed two Templars and was in a state of shock. He was going to kill himself if I did not intervene. I told him I could give him a new purpose and I could help him prevent the atrocities that the Templars had committed. All he wanted was to forget and promised that I could have him if he could forget everything he had done and what had happened. You were the only mage aside from Velanna that I knew. I offered him your identity. When I merged with him I tried to instill in him what I knew of you. He did not resist. He believed he was you." He explained hollowly.

"Where is he now?" I asked quietly.

There was a pause before he answered, "He's dead. I incited him to action but his old nature kept returning. I struggled to keep him focused, but his emotions kept getting in the way. I did not have that problem with Kristoff. His emotions were like an echo. This mage's emotions kept nattering at me, pushing me, twisting me. I tried to help him avoid base desires, like love and physical attraction because they were unpredictable distractions. That was futile. For a time, we had been trapped in another mage tower and the mage met a man. His name was Karl, I think. They fell in love and I almost was unable to convince the mage to escape and leave Karl behind. Even after we left they continued to exchange letters. He took horrible risks to save that mage, but when the Templars made Karl tranquil, it gave him the push he needed to follow my lead. He wanted to destroy the Templars after that and I was able to manipulate those feelings in him to do as I prompted him. The anger and desire for revenge on Templars were impossible to ignore. I did not know how confusing the desire for revenge can be…it stops all rational thought. All you can see is the pain and you just want to make others feel that pain too…even if they have done no harm."

My eyes went wide, realizing that something big had happened, "What have you done, Justice?"

"It does not matter now," he sighed, "it is done."

"It matters to me!" I shouted, "You handed my identity to a complete stranger. That man thought he was me. He gave people my name. What did the Wardens do when they saw him?"

The spirit offered, "When he came into contact with the Wardens, I used a type of Fade power. I wrapped the Fade around myself and any who had known you previously thought he looked like you. They did not notice…not too much, I think. I got the impression that Nathaniel Howe became suspicious. He also did not have your humor, your knack of annoying observations. Sigrun kept asking if something was wrong. I kept lying. I hated the lying. When I realized that I could not keep the charade up indefinitely with the comrades that trusted me, I drove my host to desert. We went to the Free Marches. No one knew us there. It was a fresh start. It was a place where we could begin to undermine the Templar threat."

"Were you not at all worried about what would happen if I turned up?" I demanded before realization hit, "Wait… you knew I was here!"

"That is why I seek your pardon…" Justice started before I cut him off.

"You dumped me here, you and that fake me! You went to the pub and drugged me. I'm here because of you!" I seethed.

Justice continued to explain, "I thought you would stop me, but I would not kill you. The mage was able to create a potion that bespelled you and placed you in a death like sleep. We entombed you down here and put a protective barrier at the entrance of your chamber so you would not be harmed. As long as I survived in the mage, the barrier would remain and you would continue to slumber. If something happened and the other mage died, my hold would weaken and you would be revived. It seemed reasonable. You were safe."

"Except, now I'm stuck down here alone and I'm bloody lost!"

"Look in the largest book, there is a map that should help you to the surface."

"You bastard!"

Justice seemed to sigh again, "I can do no more. I cannot undo what has been done, regardless of how greatly I want to. I have caused such injustice to innocent people. No matter what I did, I could make no improvements. I could not undo the injustice others perpetrated; I only made it vastly worse. By the end, both the mage and I longed for death, for release. Before I could leave this realm and find whatever judgment eternity has in store for me, I had to confess to you. You were the first that I had wronged."

"Do not give me excuses," I fumed, "you have ruined my life. You still have not told me what you have done, since you are conveniently leaving that out. I only have one question now. WHERE IS MY CAT?"

I think it baffled Justice, that out of everything he had just imparted, I was worried about the cat. If he had eyebrows they would have skewed, but he replied, "I left the cat with Nathaniel Howe's sister in Amaranthine. The cat did not like the other mage and would not allow him to hold it. The other mage did not do well with animals. They seemed to avoid him. It seemed a reasonable provision for the cat."

"If anything has happened to Ser Pounce-a-Lot, I will enter the Fade and find you. I will destroy you!" I threatened.

"The cat is fine and we will not meet again, even in the Fade." Justice reassured me, "I do not belong there any longer, just as I do not belong here. Instead, take comfort in what I now offer. The world believes that the mage Anders is dead, executed for a crime against the Chantry. You are free to start a new life without anyone hunting you."

"What crime did you commit against the Chantry?" I asked wearily.

"I am going, I can no longer delay." Justice whispered mournfully as I could visibly see him evaporate before my eyes. In moments, he was gone and I was again alone feeling desolate.

With the map that Justice had "thoughtfully" provided I was able to find my way to the surface after a couple of days. The exit was near a small port town close to the border of Orlais. It was there that I heard the news of a mage named Anders who caused the Chantry of Kirkwall to explode and it had resulted in an attack upon the Circle of Magi in that city by the Templars. The Champion of Kirkwall had executed the perpetrator but had also defended the Circle, defending innocent lives. The incident had brought the entire city to its knees and there were rumors that many Templars had broken from the Chantry in order to form execution squads in retaliation, attacking any mages they came into contact with.

"But this happened months ago," the old man who shared the story had said, "where have you been that you are unaware of what has happened?"

"I am a Gray Warden," I explained, "and I have been living under a rock."

I had not done the atrocity, but I had to do something. Justice and the fake me had committed a crime and I was the only one left to atone for it.

"I did not catch your name, son." The man called after me.

"My name is Kristoff. I am a dead man." I answered and kept walking.

**I posted this in response to a Cheeky Monkey Challenge. I had intended it to be more of a parody, but it came out too serious. Anyway, I thought this might explain what happened to the real Anders before Dragon Age II started.