They will die! I will have every last Templar for these abuses! - Justice
The blade sliced into her hand cleanly, and the blood began to swirl about her in the macabre dance of forbidden power. The crimson wisps and ribbons twisted over the curves of her arms as she joined her hands before her—one palm over the back of the other hand—and held them outstretched toward the crowd of Templars threatening to overwhelm them.
Anders forced himself to remain still. If he allowed himself to move, he'd find himself across the cavern, tackling Jessalyn to the ground. He could feel the burn of the blood magic in the pit of his stomach, nausea twisting and churning his insides until he could taste the bile in his mouth. Justice fumed, his outrage becoming Anders' as the skin of his forearms began to sizzle and split with lyrium.
Focus on the battle at hand, Anders, Justice cried from within: a response to the mage's fight for the control of his own body—control that he had only just recovered. We will deal with her afterward. You mustn't fall prey to this distraction.
One of the Templars turned toward him, but before the enemy had a chance to strike, he went rigid. A moment later, he was turning on his brothers-in-arms, striking with unhesitating force and breaking through each parry, all the while screaming in agony as the few remaining seconds of his life ticked away with excruciating finality. As time ran out, he let out a final cry before he was torn to pieces, the bits of flesh and bone landing amongst the cave floor with sounds that made Anders' skin crawl.
Frozen in place, the blunt force of a shield striking him square in the chest knocked Anders on his back, leaving him breathless. Ser Alrik stood above him, a malicious grin painted on the face that looked down upon the mage with triumph. His lips parted to speak, but rather than words, blood spilled from the opening. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in anger as his eyes fixed on the blade of a greatsword that protruded from his belly. With one last venomous glance at the mage he'd nearly bested, he collapsed forward, sliding off the weapon smoothly.
"You would do well to pay attention, mage," Fenris spat, unexpectedly reaching down a hand to drag Anders to his feet by the shoulder. "I will not help you again."
"I'm surprised you bothered this time," he replied, reaching hastily for his staff and sweeping a sheet of ice before him in an arc. The elf simply huffed his response before rushing forward and slicing into a crowd of Templars near the stairwell. They fell around Anders left and right, their backs arching as obscured blades found the weak points of their armor in quick succession. Isabela appeared from the shadows, a feline smirk betraying the satisfaction she clearly felt.
As the Templar numbers slowly dwindled, he could sense Justice growing impatient. The fragile control he held over the spirit shattered as the lingering life energy of the fallen men seemed to gather around Jessalyn, the visible wounds closing as it caressed her skin. As he glowed with the force of the spirit's anger, Anders felt himself relinquish his body to the fury within.
"You!" Justice roared, a deep bellow that was still foreign to the man who released it. A hand—Anders' hand—lashed out and gripped Jessalyn around the throat, pinning her to the stone wall of the cavern. "You claim to be on the side of mages, and yet you do the very thing that puts them all at risk!"
"Anders—" Isabela said from behind him, coming closer than he had realized.
"Stand back, whore. This is none of your concern," Justice snapped, the free hand going back to fend off her approach.
She let out a disgruntled snort, and Anders could sense her crossing her arms over her chest. "Excuse me if I'd rather you not kill our leader."
"She is a blood mage. Her fate was decided the moment she drew her own blood for power." Anders' hand tightened around Hawke's throat, and he desperately fought for control as blue eyes stared up at him with life that rapidly faded. "You would have been a distraction. Anders will be better off with you out of the way."
"Get away from her, demon!" the young girl shouted, instantly cowering backward. Justice dropped the mage in his hand into a heap on the ground, and she coughed and hacked as she took ragged breaths.
Stalking over to the girl, Anders felt his face contort in anger. "I am no demon! Are you one of them, that you would call me such?"
"Anders, stop," Jessalyn wheezed, her normally melodic voice raspy from a crushed larynx. It wasn't a reprimand to the man who had assaulted her: it was a plea to the one only she seemed to acknowledge was still within, despite nearly killing her.
"She is theirs. I can feel their hold on her!" The rage boiled within him, and Anders witnessed helplessly as he approached the defenseless girl. He knew what Justice would do to her. He knew it was wrong, but couldn't do a thing to stop it.
The girl fell to her knees. "Please, messere."
Jessalyn stood, stumbling a bit as she walked over to Isabela and Fenris—the two of them silently watching from the sideline. "If you're going to kill anyone, finish me off," she stated bluntly. "She's the reason you're fighting. I'm the one holding you back."
His arms lifted, preparing to send a bolt of spirit energy straight into the young mage before him. Anders screamed inwardly, horrified by what he was about to do, refusing to allow it. Fire blue as the eyes he had nearly dimmed for good engulfed him as he staggered backward, covering his face with his hands.
"Maker, no," he gasped, topaz meeting lyrium blue as he lowered his hand to find Jessalyn in front of him. "I almost… if you weren't here…" He pushed past her, making to sprint for the exit. "I-I need to get out of here."
I promise, this is only a two part story, at most. I just need to get it out of my system. I'm still working on Injured, I swear.