Queen of Horrors

For Anders, the stench was unbearable. And that unsavoury awareness, coming from a man who spent longer periods of time in the Deep Roads than most, was saying something. The stench rivalled even that of the lair of a broodmother, the kind who was too large to be moved and lived in her own filth, taint and waste. Anders even found himself gagging at the mere thought of it. As if living near the sewers in Darktown wasn't bad enough, now he was traipsing through them, in tow like a dog, and orders were given pretty much the same way. And like a dog he followed. Like a templar slave and a warden recruit, he followed her. Sometimes he wondered why he did it. No... he constantly wondered why. He wished he could say that she had blackmailed him, but the truth was much more pathetic. He hoped he could change her. If he could convince her that his cause was just, he could convince anyone.

He looked at the fearless leader before them. "Deranged leader is more like," his mind quipped. She had midnight black hair that was short and crudely cut, pale skin that made her look almost sick, piercing blue eyes with pupils that never dilated and never held any form of emotion. She was poorly nourished, making her body thin and unshaped. To top all of this off, she had a red tattoo on her face that looked like blood spatter, and always wore armour with metal spikes which covered every part of her. The way she carried herself, with hasty and angry movements, was vaguely similar to his own, when he lost himself to Justice. Or perhaps a ghoul. She looked as fierce and sinister as one. And Maker, he hated her!

Not for the way she looked of course, but for her personality. She was a mage, and not just any mage. She was a blood mage, the daughter of an apostate, who had been shielded and never seen the inside of a circle. But this mage, this Mari Hawke, had turned on her own kind and delivered them to the templars, without a hint of remorse or sympathy for the lives she had ruined. He wished he could say that she did it because she believed it to be right. He wished he could say that it was because some mage abused her, or that she simply was against blood magic. He had once hoped it was because she had somehow twisted her mind to believe it was the right thing to do. That she honestly believed she was protecting those around her. Anything that could in some sense justify her actions, no matter how much he might disagree with them. But in her, there was no such justice. She turned over her fellow mages for one reason only; Power! He groaned inside himself, with disgust. By supporting the templars, she protected herself, and the templars gave her the right to roam around freely. They also sent appreciative sums of coin for any apostates she captured or killed - the latter being the most common scenario. And it gave her power, wealth and influence. The templars were the most influential force in Kirkwall.

"Abomination! Stop daydreaming and get your arse moving, or I will make you useful as a blood sacrifice!" Mari hissed, those icy eyes piercing his flesh.

Anders took a deep breath, as Justice simmered with contempt and downright fury. Sometimes Anders wished he could say that he was afraid of her. That he was the equal of his fellow mages in this blighted city, but he had nothing to fear from her. He was useful, and as long as he went on being useful to her, he would live.

They had been rivals from the very beginning, but still his vision of her had changed over the years. In the beginning, he had thought her unreasonable and slightly off balance. It wasn't until the Deep Roads that he realized that her heart was colder than anything he had ever encountered. He believed that even the Arch Demon might be more compassionate than her.

They had ventured into the Deep Roads, and he had been brought because he was a warden and the Queen of horrors could not be bothered to learn healing. Not that Anders ever believed she possibly could, as it required empathy. She had also brought her brother, Carver. Anders and Carver hadn't gotten on very well, but it was clear to Anders that he had tried to do what was best for his family. He had first thought that Carver resented his sister, only for being a mage. How he wished he had been right.

After they had been betrayed by Varric's brother, Bartrand, they tried to find another way out of the Deep Roads. They met a demon along the way with which Hawke, of course, made a deal, but eventually they made their way towards the surface. Too late did Anders realize that Carver had the taint. "Not that it would have mattered," his mind scoffed. Carver fell over, and Anders managed to catch him.

"Get your useless arse up, you sorry excuse for a warrior," Mari hissed.

"I don't think I can," Carver said meekly.

"It's the taint. I can feel it. But there might be something we can do," Anders replied, holding Carver and trying to limit his pain with a mild healing spell.

"What is it, Blondie?" Varric enquired, and walked over next to them.

"I stole the maps for some wardens in Kirkwall. I wanted to see if they were looking for me. They weren't. But the point is, that the wardens are here and I might be able to convince them to conscript Carver. It might prevent the taint from killing him," Anders explained.

"Then let's do it. Hang in there, Junior. We'll get you out of this," Varric smiled.

Mari groaned with frustration, and before any of them realized what was going on, Mari had planted a dagger in Carver's heart. She then used the blood to fuel herself, draining the body of her brother completely. She sighed blissfully, with a smile on her face. Anders and Varric looked at her in horror.

"How could you!" Anders exclaimed angrily.

"We don't have time for this, and he was always whining and complaining. Let us get going and let the corpse rot." Mari said coldly, and walked off.

Anders' eyes flared blue, Justice raging inside him like a rabid wolf, scratching its claws at the barrier of Anders' will. Begging to be released so that he might get vengeance and justice, paid with blood. Her blood. Anders was about to let him, when he felt Varric's hand on his shoulder.

"I know how you feel, Blondie. Trust me, Bianca wants nothing more than to give Hawke her most deadly kiss, but we need her to get out of here alive," Varric said, only barely controlling his own anger.

"If she doesn't kill us first," Anders growled in a low voice.

Maker, he hated that woman! And from that day on, so did Varric, though Varric was more passive in his expression of it. He and Hawke had come to a mutual understanding. Do not get in the way of each other's business, and for every time you help me, I will help you - a deal Hawke honoured as long as it was useful to her. Anders also knew Varric had another reason for working with her. Hawke hadn't picked up on it yet, but in some cases Varric would actually warn the people they were after, giving as many as possible the opportunity to get away from her.

Anders had no idea how she had achieved it, but over the years she had managed to make every single one of her companions hate her. But the only hatred for this woman that rivalled his own, was held by Fenris. She was living proof that everything Fenris said was true, which only made Anders hate her more. The final proof emerged when Hawke 'adopted' one of Hadrianna's slaves – a slave which she now treated cruelly. To this day, Anders still wondered why Hawke had helped the elf in the first place.

Guard Captain Aveline hated the woman, as much as the others. She watched over Hawke constantly, trying to protect the city from her. She had even doubled patrols around her house. The only reason Aveline treated Hawke with some respect was for the sake of Hawke's mother, Leandra. She had tried to arrest Hawke once, but the lovely Knight-Commander had ordered the woman released as "she did a remarkable service in protecting the city from mages".

"Bitch!" Anders' mind roared, not knowing if he was referring to Knight-Commander Meredith or Hawke.

Even Merrill hated her. Both being blood mages, Anders thought they would have had something in common, but Merrill did have some goodness in her, if a bit naive in Anders' opinion. The highlight of that particular rivalry had occurred when Mari killed a young girl, trapped somewhere with some raiders they were clearing out for money. Before Anders had a chance to stop her, Mari had gutted the girl like a hunter's kill. She ferociously ripped the entrails from her body, wrenched away her bones, and actually cracked them before sucking out the marrow. It had ended as she filled herself with the power of the blood, before tossing her victim's intestines to Merrill, who only just caught them.

"Feel the power, little knife-ear." Mari had smirked, with blood smeared all over her face.

Merrill had thrown it to the ground with a cry of terror, her eyes filling with tears before she leaned against Anders with a violent sob. She then vomited, only just missing his boots. Mari had just laughed hysterically, while Anders tried to comfort Merrill. Merrill had locked herself in her house for days after that. Varric had checked on her and even Anders visited and gave her something sedative to get her to sleep.

Then there was Isabella. She was the only one who might not directly hate Hawke, as she did make some money from helping her. She also just happened to be Hawke's lover. "Sex toy," his mind corrected. As long as Isabella would put out, she would get a bigger share of the profits they made. Anders knew there had to be more to it than that, but Isabella wouldn't say. And Anders didn't exactly press for information. Seeing Hawke openly feel up Isabella at the Hanged Man, in a way that made even Isabella blush, was torture enough. Because Anders was haunted by Hawke. Obsessed with her. Painfully and excruciatingly in love with her. Anders laughed at himself with loathing and disgust. A man was supposed to fall in love with the woman of his dreams. Not the woman of his nightmares! And yet he ached for her. Yearned for her with such a passion, that it could be compared to Justice's need for vengeance.

"What are you hoping to accomplish? Make her a better person?" His mind scoffed at him, and now, even some of Justice's thoughts might agree. Anders had to laugh at the absurdity. For yes, he had hoped that he could change her. That he could make her see. That somehow he could appeal to something in her that could make her better. He had long since given up that notion. For one, she was a lesbian and would never look at him that way. For another, if she'd ever had a heart, it had been turned to dust long ago. Now his obsession with her was different. He wanted her to submit. Wanted her to fall to her knees and admit that he was right. He wanted her to beg for his forgiveness, and beg for mercy as had so many of her victims. Even his sexual fantasies of her were beginning to become violent. It was disturbing, how much his vengeance fed off her, and he terrified even himself at times.

She was constantly harassing and bickering with Sebastian, trying to get him to take back his throne. Sebastian was very passive in his rivalry with her, but Anders had seen him lose his temper from time to time. In the past, Anders had overheard Mari plotting to marry Sebastian, when his throne was regained. And this despite the fact that she only liked women. The mere thought that a sexual predator, who had been thrown out of the Blooming Rose for tormenting the prostitutes, could be married to the self righteous and religious Prince, was ludicrous. But for her it was just about power.

A blood spell, forcing him to the ground in agony, awoke him from his thoughts. Hawke stood looking down at him with those cold, merciless and malicious eyes.

"I said no daydreaming! You sorry excuse for an abomination! Had you been real as one, you would at least have been of use." Mari hissed and released the spell before walking away.

Merrill ran to his side and knelt next to him. Comforting and kindly, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder as he was still crouching in pain.

"Are you alright, Anders?" she asked, with tearful eyes.

Her eyes were always watery since meeting Hawke. Always in pain, always tormented.

"Just wonderful, thank you for asking." He said sarcastically, as she helped him to his feet.

"I'm sure she didn't mean to harm you. She is just worried about her mother," Merrill tried to justify.

Anders smiled softly at her. There had been a small upside to Hawke's insanity. It had made the others much better friends. He had never imagined getting on with Merrill and Aveline as well as he did, but with the menace that was Hawke, circumstances had forced them to seek friendship in each other. All of them, even Fenris, working together, tried to limit the damage that Hawke did. So he had become protective of Merrill, as if she were one of the young apprentices in the Tower. Merrill was a bloodmage, but since seeing what Hawke had done, she could barely use a minor spell without getting sick. In the beginning they would fight about the subject, but with Hawke filling their lives with misery, their petty differences seemed to fade. Anders wished he could say that it was a demon within Hawke that made her act this way, but it wasn't. There was no demon. He had checked. Lately he had begun to wonder if the reason was, that even demons were terrified of her - perhaps even as disgusted with her as he was.

Anders and Merrill followed Hawke, Varric and Gascard. Perhaps he should show some understanding, as Hawke's mother was currently in the hands of an insane killer. They came to a filthy room filled with furniture. The killer's lair, it would seem. Anders' blood ran cold as he saw the picture hanging there. Varric saw it too, as they approached.

"By the ancestors... that looks like Mistress Amell, doesn't it?" Varric questioned, looking at Anders.

"It does... this is a shrine for a wife? Sister?" Anders wondered.

"We better hurry," Merrill said with concern.

"Would you three shut your cock-sucking holes, before I sew them shut?!" Mari growled.

Anders and Varric sighed, while Merrill trembled, before they turned to look at Hawke. Hawke wasn't even the least interested in the painting, but was looking with great interest at the books on necromancy spread around the room. Now Anders didn't feel guilty anymore. Hawke cared as little for her mother as she did for any of them. Eventually she looked up at them with a smile. Her mother was kidnapped by a killer and the woman was bloody smiling!

"Oh, I want to meet this man." She purred, still smiling with a coldness that never left her gaze.

"You are insane!" Anders said, with disgust.

"Another word, abomination, and I will kill Merrill." She threatened coldly, and Merrill began to whimper as Varric moved the elf behind him.

"You wouldn't dare!" Anders hissed, flashes of blue caressing his eyes.

Mari walked over to him, and with her sharpened metal glove she held his chin. Her nails dug into him, and he could feel the blood running down his throat. Her face was so close to him, he could feel her breath. He hated her, and yet all he could think of was claiming those lips in a kiss. See if that could melt her heart. What was wrong with him?

"Normally I would threaten your life, but that means nothing to you. So instead, I threaten the abomination's pathetic knife-eared maleficar. Don't for a moment doubt that I will hesitate to kill her," she purred against his lips.

She then moved her hand to the back of his neck, and licked the blood flowing down his throat. She pulled away her lips covered in his blood, licking them.

"Sweet... of course you would be sweet," she stated, and walked away.

Anders tried to ignore the perverted arousal she had created, and turned to Merrill. He held his arm around her shoulder as she had with him only minutes earlier, and kissed her head. She leaned into his shoulder and cried into his feathers.

"It's alright. I won't let her hurt you," Anders crooned before they followed the Queen of Horrors.

They walked into a connected room and saw a man in robes, standing with his back turned. The killer. He turned to look at them with eyes almost as icy and deranged as Hawke's.

"I was wondering, when you would show up. Leandra was so sure you would come for her," he said.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you," Hawke replied in a snarky tone, her eyes filled with malice.

"Yes... and she spoke of you. What a lovely, gentle woman."

"Quentin!" Gascard said sternly, walking forward.

"Gascard... so... you have reached me after all these years. I'd figured you gave up."

"And the plot thickens! How delightful! Another person with a fascination for true power," Hawke laughed.

"Yes. I am going to learn your secrets old man. Everything you kept from me," Gascard demanded.

"And the same goes for me," Hawke snarled.

"I'm sorry, Gascard. When my wife died, I lost all hope. I wasn't able to be the mentor you deserved. But now my work is finished and I can teach you, like I always meant to," Quentin replied.

"You will let me be a part of this? You'll teach me the secrets of necromancy. I..." Gascard replied, when a dagger gutted him from his abdomen and all the way to his throat. Mari licked the dagger when she pulled it from him.

"I have a better idea. Teach me," Mari smirked.

"You can't be considering this!" Anders objected.

"Ah ah... one move, abomination, and Knife-ears gets that treatment as well," Mari warned with a purring sound, while wagging her finger.

Anders froze, his eyes burning with fury and his fists clenching into tight balls, his knuckles turning white. Quentin looked at Mari with great interest.

"Others have never understood my purpose, but you might. Your mother was chosen because she was special. And now she is part of something greater. I have done the impossible. I have touched the face of the Maker and lived. Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?... love. I pieced her together from memory. I found her eyes, her skin, her delicate fingers. And at last, her face... oh, this beautiful face. I searched far and wide to find you again, beloved, and no force on earth will part us," Quentin explained, and from the chair rose a woman Anders recognized as Leandra.

"No... No!" Anders roared, and Justice emerged.

Mari roared with frustration, but even she had better sense than to turn against Justice. Quentin rose up demons and undeads and soon a battle began. Between them, Justice and Mari slaughtered everything around them, while working in harmony. Harmony – an absurd way to see the cooperation of these opposite forces – one of righteousness, and the other of pure malice. Perhaps this was why he loved her. Because she was his opposite. Or perhaps it was because as long as she existed, there would at least be one person in the world more monstrous than he and Justice. As the battle ended, Anders was relieved that he had succeeded in killing Quentin. Had he lived Mari might have spared him. Leandra's body wobbled forward towards Mari, but she only pushed Leandra away and Anders just managed to catch her. Mari went directly to Quentin instead. Anders' eyes were brimming, part in rage and part in pain. During the past two years, he had become very fond of Leandra. He remembered a few weeks ago, when she came to him.

Anders had just healed a child with a stomach infection, when he realized Leandra was standing in the doorway with a basket in her hands. Anders' blood ran cold. She only did that when she needed healing. Anders smiled kindly at her and walked over to give her a hug. Leandra shuddered lightly with a trembled breath and Anders knew she had needed it. She put the basket forward, when she pulled away.

"Thank you, Leandra. Why don't you sit down?" he offered, placing the basket on the table.

He pulled forth a chair and sat down in front of the cot where Leandra was seated. Anders sighed.

"Where did she hit you this time?" he asked softly.

Leandra pulled down the collar of her dress, and Anders saw a purple handprint and claw marks on her throat. Mari had tried to strangle her. This also explained why the woman couldn't speak at the moment. Anders took a deep breath as Justice was raging inside him. He placed his hand on her throat and healed her.

"There, it should be better now," he smiled.

"Thank you... it was my own fault you know," Leandra said solemnly.

"No, it wasn't. She has no right to treat you like this," Anders insisted, stroking her shoulder.

"You are a good man. You are so much like my husband. Just as kind. He was a healer, as well you know. And even when we met, he talked about reforming the circle. I was lucky to have him," she smiled softly.

"He was lucky to have you. I don't understand how two such caring people could have such a cr... angry daughter," he corrected.

He knew Leandra loved her daughter and he had no intentions of adding to her pain.

"I don't know what we did wrong. She always was like that. Unable to show sympathy, compassion or love for anyone. The things she did, even as a little girl, were horrifying. We even considered sending her to the circle once, but I couldn't bear the thought of my little girl being tranquil." Leandra sobbed and leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder.

Anders wondered just how many tears his feathers had absorbed because of Hawke. Many of them, his own.

He looked down at Leandra and tried to heal her.

"I'm so sorry. There is nothing I can do. His magic was the only thing keeping you alive," he whispered in a raspy voice, stroking her face with loving care.

"It's alright. I will know peace now. I will see my family again. I'm sorry I could never love her anger away," Leandra replied, before taking her last breath.

"Hawke, she is gone. If that even matters to you," Anders spat, tears flowing freely from his eyes and his teeth grinding.

"So is this bastard! Why did you kill him? I could have used him! Bah, you three just get out of here and spare me your pathetic tears," Mari groused.

Anders picked up Leandra's body and walked out of the room. On his way, he heard the squealing sound of a rat in agony. It was a sport of hers, tormenting rats, birds or any other defenceless creature she could get near. Anders kissed Leandra's forehead, before leaving.

Anders slammed the door to his clinic and let out a wail in rage. Leandra had been buried that day, and her daughter didn't even bother to show. He sat down at his desk and worked on his manifesto, hoping to take his mind off it. It didn't work. Suddenly, the doors to the clinic were torn open and in came Aveline, carrying an unconscious Hawke, and the rest of the group following them. Aveline placed Hawke on a cot and Anders walked over to them. Her head was absolutely smeared with blood, but for once it was her own. Fear gripped his heart, and he realized that he couldn't bear for her to die. Justice argued that it would better to let the demon mistress die, and Anders scolded his heart for feeling this way about her.

"What happened?" Anders asked.

"I have no idea. We were going over to the estate to make her explain why she hadn't come to her own mother's funeral, and drag her back to the Chantry. But when we arrived, we found her surrounded by her own blood and in this state," Aveline replied.

Anders examined her with his healing.

"She has a massive head trauma, and there is some magic here I am unfamiliar with. She is dying, but I think I can save her," Anders explained.

"Do we want you to heal her? She is as cruel as any magister in Tevinter!" Fenris hissed.

"Maybe the elf is on to something. She has taken a lot of innocent lives over the years," Varric pointed out.

"Surely, we are not considering letting her die?" Sebastian said, horrified.

"Aaawww... but she's a tiger between the sheets," Isabella argued, though not very passionately.

"I sure wouldn't miss her," Aveline agreed.

"We can't let her die," Merrill objected.

They all, except Anders, gave her a curious look.

"Of course the other blood mage would say so," Fenris scoffed.

"If we let her die, we will be no better than her. We will have proven her right," Merrill argued.

"We have to try and heal her. The Maker can decide whether she survives or not," Sebastian replied.

Aveline made a heavy sigh.

"Merrill's right," Aveline nodded.

"Venhides!" Fenris growled, and threw his hands up.

Anders began healing Hawke and after about half an hour, he completed the task. He sighed and was a little ashamed to admit it was in relief, before washing the blood off her face. The others still waited in the clinic. Fenris had a hand on his sword, no doubt hoping she would turn into an abomination as soon as she woke, so he could kill her. As Anders was about to remove the rest of the blood, her eyes slowly fluttered open. She groaned with pain and sat up slowly.

"What happened?" she asked with a strained voice.

"We don't know. You had been performing some ritual and you got hurt. You had a large fracture in your skull and had suffered brain damage, but I managed to heal it," Anders replied in an informative way, his relief already turned into annoyance.

Mari looked up at him, her pupils slightly dilated.

"Thank you, Anders," she smiled softly and kindly, with true warmth in her expression as she caringly stroked his arm.

They all spun around, looking at her as if struck by lightning.

Author's note:
A special thanks to Flint and Feather, who is a beta reader for me on this story. For those who are interrested in Hellboy stories, you should read hers. They are very good.