DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragon Age or any of its original characters.
Areida was grateful that for once she could blend into the crowd. A large group of scared mages allowed her to disappear amongst them, despite being arguably one of the most famous mages in Thedas herself. She kept her hood up, weaving through the groups of newly-made apostates, searching for one person in particular.
She tapped the shoulder of an older mage who looked slightly less scared than the others around him. "Excuse me," Areida said. "I'm looking for someone. Tall human man, blonde hair in a ponytail, maybe one earring…he might have a cat? His name is Anders."
The man she talked to scowled. "You're looking for him? Well, he's over there somewhere," he told her, gesturing behind him to a series of tents.
"Thank you," Areida replied, and the man only grunted in response, continuing on with his shepherding of some younger mages. His reaction confused Areida, but she shook it off and hurried to find her friend. She had to make sure he was all right.
A few people at the campsite directed Areida more specifically to one tent at the end of the row, and when she pulled back the tent's flap, there he was. "Anders!" she cried out in relief at seeing Anders unharmed and alive.
Anders turned, having had his back to the entrance. His eyes widened at the sight of his old friend. "Amell?" he asked, seeming to barely hope to believe it. "What are you doing—oof!" He grunted as Areida through herself into his arms, holding him tightly.
"I was so worried," she told him, laughing slightly in her relief. "I knew you were in Kirkwall—Nathaniel told me when I last spoke to him, and when I heard about what happened, I just…" She pulled away, unable to even finish the thought.
"You…you were worried about me?" Anders asked tentatively, sounding shocked.
"Of course I was!" Areida replied, confused by his reaction. Why wasn't he happy to see her? "Anders, we haven't spoken in years but…you're one of my oldest friends. You're one of the only people left who really knew me even before I was a Grey Warden, back in the circle. I will always worry for you."
"You shouldn't," Anders told her darkly, not meeting her eyes. "You don't know, do you?"
"Don't know what?" Areida asked, not liking where the conversation seemed to be going. "Anders, what happened?"
"I don't want to tell you," Anders admitted, his voice barely a whisper. Areida had to lean in to hear him better, because of all the sound from outside. "You might be the last person in the world who cares for me and doesn't know what I've done. It's selfish but I wish I could keep that."
"Anders, you're scaring me," Areida whispered, taking one of his hands in hers. She really saw, for the first time since entering the tent, the amount Anders had aged. It had been nearly ten years since they had seen each other, but they were still both barely in their thirties. And yet, Anders had grey coming into his hair and fine lines etched deep into his skin on his forehead. His hands were rough and calloused. This man carried years of worry and pain with him. Gone was the light-hearted youth she had known all those years ago, it seemed. "Tell me what's happened. Now."
Anders was silent for a moment longer, closing his eyes as though to prepare himself. "It was me, Amell," he finally told her. "It was me."
"What was you?" Areida asked. When Anders didn't respond, her mind filled in the blanks. "No…you…the Chantry…you destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall? It was you?"
Anders slowly nodded, a tear coming from the corner of one eye. "I had to," he insisted quietly. "We needed something to change. I did it for all of us."
"Anders, why?" Areida was shocked. The Anders she had known was nothing like this man. "You never wanted to change things before. You just wanted your freedom."
"I had to change. There had to be change," Anders said angrily, his voice low and dark. His hand that was still held by Areida tightened its grip on her. "I changed. We changed."
"What do you mean 'we changed?' Who?" Areida asked. "And for what? What did this accomplish?"
Suddenly, veins of blue glowed all along Anders' skin, and Areida wrenched her hand away. "THIS WAS TO ACCOMPLISH JUSTICE!" A voice that was not Anders, and yet came from Anders said this. Areida looked at Anders' eyes to find them glowing blue as well—it was not Anders. And as quick as it had started, it was gone, and Anders was there again, falling to one knee on the ground.
He watched as Areida stared in shock, her mouth stuck partway open as she put the pieces together in her head. "They said…an abomination…I thought…but how…?" Areida suddenly had a stroke of realization and her eyes met Anders again, hers wide and wild, his sad and empty. "Justice?" she whispered, grief and shock dripping over the word.
"He needed help, Amell," Anders said sadly. "I didn't know. He was my friend—our friend." Anders, unable to stand the despair of Areida's face, turned away and felt his shoulders begin shaking with sobs. "We didn't know, Amell, I swear," he choked out through the tears that started to fall. "I'm so sorry."
Her hand, surprising Anders, came to rest on his cheek, tilting his face back to hers. She had knelt down to the ground as well, and was now wiping away the trail of salty tears on his cheek. Areida leaned her forehead against Anders', her anguished expression only inches from Anders' despondent face.
"What have you done, Anders?" she asked, grief-stricken. "What have you done?"