Author's Note: This is my first attempt at anything even remotely fan-fiction related, so if you like this short introduction, I'll keep it going. If I do continue this, Anders will be the focus of the plot. I hope you like it, even if it is short. :)

The Beginning of The End

"So, heading to Kirkwall are you?"

Anders woke from his daydream and his thoughts of the past few months. The sea swirled and gushed in green, angry waves before him from the coast of Highever, and the voice that had brought him back to reality suddenly seemed more familiar.

"...Is- Isabela?"

Anders turned and saw a busty, tan-skinned woman approaching him from the edge of the docks. Her black hair was tied into a patterned blue headscarf and the gold hanging from her ears and neck was not ignorable. She wore... less than when he had seen her in Denerim at The Pearl; a brief meeting that saw them share drinks at the Gnawed Noble not too long ago.

"No place for an apostate in Ferelden then?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Well... I'm actually a Grey Warden now. I've just..." Anders tentatively admitted. Isabela smirked at him, her gold piercing under her lips shimmering in the sunlight. Isabela knew a fugitive when she saw one.

"You're running away, aren't you? Somebody's feeling rebellious!" Isabela laughed and winked. She swaggered past him to board her ship, The Siren's Call, and turned to call to Anders from the railing.

"You know, you could always catch a lift to Kirkwall with me, Anders! We're leaving soon, but think about it!"

Anders was taken aback. He half-smiled half-chuckled and decided not to answer her yet. He watched her disappear and give orders to her crew, bustling about to make sure her every desire was met. Sure, being on The Siren's Call would be better than the dirty ship he'd managed to get himself on, but he'd eventually have to explain to Isabela why he was no longer a Grey Warden and the thought simply killed him inside. He stared again into the ocean's waves that glistened in the afternoon's sunlight. He stared at the sea's horizon, knowing Kirkwall lay beyond. There were templars in Kirkwall, but it might only be temporary. He pondered the prospect of a peaceful, quiet life. All he wanted was a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools. The Tevinter Imperium's haven for mages had crossed his mind, but never before had it been so strong when faced with the Waking Sea. In Kirkwall, he'd be just Anders, not Anders the Grey Warden or Anders the apostate. Besides that, nobody could know what he really was. Nobody could know what he had done.

Since leaving the Circle of Magi for the seventh time, it seemed that Anders' life had taken a much more dramatic turn. With every mage and templar in the tower panicking about the Blight, Jowan's blood magic escape and Uldred's scheming, few mages realised he was gone until it was too late. He had run to West Hill and had trekked with simple merchants at the first opportunity, across the Coastlands to Amaranthine in the east. In Amaranthine he was caught by that damn Rylock, a templar whose tough nature almost ensured he was caught again; he would've been if not for the Warden-Commander. She had taken him in and made him a Grey Warden, going toe to toe with Rylock and the other templars to save him. What had she seen in him? He was a dirty apostate in the eyes of the Chantry and the Warden-Commander was the queen of Ferelden! She had convinced King Alistair to allow the Right of Conscription and it was she who... who had caused him to meet Justice.

Justice was a friend Anders now knew all too well. Justice and he never quite saw eye to eye in Amaranthine but now... The world felt like a different place. It felt familiar but new; beautiful but agonising. Anders knew why the Wardens at Vigil's Keep were suspicious of him. He knew they had reason to, him being a notorious apostate, after all. But recently, suspicions had turned to an increasing undercurrent of tension. Kristoff's body lay mangled as a fleshy sack of bones on the wooden floor of his quarters and Anders was under the close and concerned watch of senior Wardens who continued to arrive at the Keep. The mages of the Wardens had their fears but only Anders really knew the truth. He knew what he had become.

Anders moved his chestnut brown eyes from the sea and approached The Siren's Call. There was no turning back now.