The chantry was no more. As the rest processed what they had witnessed Anders prepared himself for the consequences he knew he would suffer. Of all things he needed to make peace with, only one memory pestered his mind. All he could think about was her.
The Estate was quiet, somber, its halls suddenly empty. He stood above Hawke floundering in the silence. For a while he didn't think she would respond, when she looked up her eyes were red and raw. They threatened to accuse him and her words confirmed it.
"You still think mages should be free?"
He was prepared for this. He had always shouldered a mage's blame but it had never been from her before. It pained him for a moment but he understood and took it in stride. "He was a madman. That's what made him do this. Not magic."
She turned away, hiding a scowl, her fists clenched.
"I know you're looking for someone to be angry at. If it helps, go ahead and take it out on me."
She continued to glare at the floor, "Madness does not absolve him. Without this monstrous magic I would still have my mother. What has magic not taken from me? My father, my sister both took away any chance for a normal life, one without fear of templars or the circle. And I've stood up for them, loved them and this is how I am to be repaid for my faith! I should fight their battles while they practice blood magic and consort with demons!"
He remained silent, sitting next to her on the bed.
"And yet they were not satisfied," she continued, turning to him, "they took mother." She gasped sharply and threw her fists at his chest, shouting, "All of them…monsters!"
She hit him again feebly and he struggled to bring his arms around her. She quickly stopped and buried her face into the crook of his neck and took a few shaky breaths.
"Anders," her voice was soft and small, "I'm sorry. You were right, I just wanted someone to blame. I feel like a fool and I would take it all back."
"I know."
"Come." She pulled herself onto the bed. "Please, just hold me. I need to remember not all mages are terrible murderers."
He lay in bed next to her and did what he was told. They lay together in silence for a long time as he listened calmly to her shallow breaths. She nearly startled him when she spoke.
"I do love you." She said simply.
"And I love you."
"I hate you." She spat, her gaze locked on his destruction.
Indescribable feelings lumped up in the back of his throat making it hard to swallow, his face flushed hotly. "I know," he managed with a thick voice.
Sooty ash started to drift down around them like a light snowfall, dusting their heads. Hawke irritably scraped a hand across her face as some clung to her eyelashes. Repulsed, she shivered and her stomach clenched.
"There is nothing you can say that I haven't already said to myself—"
"Oh, I disagree!" She blurted harshly. "How dare you! How dare you ask my assistance with your slaughter! You filthy hypocrite, how does this set you apart from any blood mage you condemn? You're…you are no better than the man who murdered my mother!" Her icy blue eyes were narrow slits and lines furrowed and creased her face in an ugly, savage way. "If you think you just get to walk away from this—"
"I don't. If I pay for this with my life then I pay. Perhaps then Justice will be free."
Hawke quivered with indignation and guilt. She slid a small dagger from its leather sheath. Her chest was on fire and she felt the need to throw up. She gripped the blade in her sweaty palm. Her whole body felt like a compressed coil.
"Please, whatever you're going to do, just do it," he whispered, his back to her, staring hopelessly ahead.
"Then stand, murderer." She commanded firmly. "Stand up and face me!" She was shouting now, her face felt hot.
His head slumped farther behind his shoulders.
"I refuse to stab you in the back like you did me. Face me!" Hot tears began to sting her eyes and her demand verged on desperation. She spun as a hand gently gripped her arm. Varric looked up at her in concern with a weak half smile that begged her not to hurl herself over the edge.
The dagger clattered on the ground, Anders deflated.
"I will not make you a martyr." Hawke spat and turned away. She stepped past Varric, brushing a thankful hand on his shoulder.
"Hawke!" Sebastian bounded after her, "This will not go away because you wish it! You would deny this city its justice? This abomination must die!" He clipped her heels and grabbed her by the shoulder, attempting to pull her around to face him. "Come back and finish this!"
She turned and regarded him calmly, her eyes almost vacant. "You want his life so badly?"
He glared daggers from his eyes. She turned back and continued walking, her voice was flat, "then you take it."
She walked forward numb of purpose, Varric beside her muttered, "I think I'm sick of mages and templars."
"Varric, please…" She whispered as a tear escaped and tumbled down her cheek.
Gritting his teeth, Sebastian spun back in Anders' direction. He yanked an arrow from his quiver and tugged the string back. Sweat beaded his brow as he regarded the murderous scum in his sights. "This is for Grand Cleric Elthina and all the faithful servants of the Chantry." His grip tightened involuntarily as he pictured them burning and screaming. "It is my duty."
Anders responded with deafening silence, staring vacantly ahead. Sebastian seethed at the thought that the man would not even seek repentance. Sebastian relaxed his grip on the taut string. The arrow sunk into Anders' temple with a moist shunk.