Author's Note: I was inspired by the short here on FF "Like the Sun" by xxsewnlipsxx (if you haven't read it, read it, she is amazing), which was a post-Tranquil-ified Hawke/Fenris story. Hers was so sad (I cried D:) that I just had to write my own short of Anders if Hawke had been made Tranquil. It's not anywhere near as good as xxsewnlipsxx's story, and didn't convey the amount of emotions behind the whole scene, but I tried!

"I'll protect you."

The memory of those words, spoken with a playful tone and a charming smile but still completely serious, burned. Hawke had vowed to keep him safe years ago, to protect him from the templars as surely as she protected other apostates from meeting horrible ends. Never once did she worry about the attention it would bring upon herself, about how dangerous she was making her own life. Her selflessness had been her own undoing.

"Good day, serah Anders."

Anders couldn't bear to look at her. The sound of her lifeless, toneless voice – once filled with laughter and clever witticisms – saying his name made him want to vomit, to cry. Hawke stood behind a small table in the Gallows, next to Solvitus's shop, watching over the wares the templars had put her to watching. Meredith paraded her in public like a trophy, and a warning beacon to any who may ever oppose her again.

Hawke had fought the Right of Annulment, had waged war on the templars and on Meredith, for the rights of all mages in Kirkwall. It was a losing battle, they had known it, but still she fought. Even after Anders' betrayal, his murder of all those innocents in the Chantry, Hawke raged at him and hated him, but still she took him back. On the eve of their last stand, still she pulled him into her arms, swore her love and her devotion (and her urge to punch him in the face several times), promised she would run away with him once it was all over and Meredith was dead. She had promised she would never leave his side.

And he had failed her.

The templars swarmed like bugs. Hawke's hands went from flames to ice to blue spirit aura as quickly as the seconds ran by, staff whirring frantically as she pushed the armored men back. Anders remembered his own hands burning on his staff as he tried to heal their group, to fix the injuries being inflicted even as the templars fell before them. The chink-thud of Varric's dear Bianca was audible even over the screams of the dying, and Fenris's enraged battle roar echoed across the clearing.

Merrill was the first to fall.

As she turned to knock back a man behind her, another templar rushed in and then she was falling, falling with a sword through her gut and blood rushing from her mouth. Hawke screamed, she cried out for Anders to help the elf, but it was already too late and she knew it. Those large green eyes glassed over, and her normally pink-tinged cheeks drained of blood.

Desperate fury set into their whole crew. Aveline's shield whistled through the air, Isabela's daggers darted out in a flurry of motion, and Hawke… she was a battle mage through and through. Her electrified blue eyes had hardened past determination into hate, and her body roared with magic, making Anders' skin tingle numbly.

Then Fenris was down, an arrow through his throat. He still fought for a few moments after the impact, a furious snarl on his face like a cornered badger, but he eventually fell. Blazing tattoos dulled until they were nearly the color of his skin, and the restless ex-slave's face finally slackened into an almost peaceful expression as he hit the ground, a peace he had never found in life.

Aveline went down shortly after, a wickedly sharp spear penetrating through her breastplate. Red hair fell out of its circlet and waved like a banner in the air as she dropped to the ground, gasping. Hawke's scream was the sound of all the world's sorrows bundled into one noise.

But still she fought. Even as her movements began to get slower and her breathing came in ragged gasps. She was exhausted, Anders didn't need his healing magic to know that. He tried lending her all the strength he could, pouring his magic into her wiry little body, but he was at the end of the line too.

Still they all fought.

Until a horn sounded, and the templars backed away. Hawke's face was twisted in such a snarl of fury and hatred, she looked almost ready to run after their retreating forms, but Anders laid a hand on her arm and her face suddenly went slack. Her body sagged against him and tears poured down her pale cheeks as she looked upon her friends' lifeless bodies, her own plight all but forgotten in that moment of sorrow and mourning.

"Are you interested in purchasing some potions, messere?"

Anders flinched, jerked away from his thoughts, and swallowed as he glanced at her face. It no longer held that sly grin, her pale cheeks were now sallow instead of flushed with color. But most painful of all was her eyes, once a vivid, electrifying blue that could make him shudder with desire if she so pleased; now they were dull, the color of a rain puddle dirtied with mud, and when she looked at him it wasn't with all the love in the world. He was just another person, albeit one she had once known. It meant nothing to her.

Anders shook his head and swallowed again past the lump in his throat. His eyes burned, his fingers twitched; he wanted the woman he loved back. He would die to see her return to how she used to be.

"No, I… have orders to bring you to Sundermount to fetch more crafting materials." It was a practiced lie. He had whispered it to himself over and over as he dressed that morning. He knew she would listen if he said it in an authoritative tone, and he was right.

"Thank you, serah." She stood and stepped out from behind the table and stood at his side at a polite distance. He remembered when she would stand so close she was almost touching him, just to feel him next to her, because it comforted her, she said. Now she was nearly two feet away, and the distance seemed even larger than that. She was worlds away.

Anders took her hand and wanted to cry at how cold and limp it was. He remembered her soft, warm hands curling in his hair as they kissed, her breathless whispers in his ear, the feel of those hands as they roamed over his chest, slid down until he was groaning and pressing himself harder against her… But now he held the hand of this cruel copy of Hawke, and he wanted to push her away from him.

As they weaved through the streets, Anders kept his head down to avoid attention. He was still a wanted man, and normally he would have ran from Kirkwall far, far away, but he couldn't leave her. He couldn't leave her like this.

"I would like to offer you one last chance to surrender. Your remaining friends may still be saved, Hawke, we can end this needless bloodshed."

Meredith's cruel voice echoed through the Gallows courtyard as she stepped through the parting templars. Hawke brushed her tears away and stood up straight as her face molded back into that expression she always had when dealing with something she didn't like. A muscle in her cheek pulsed, and Anders knew she wanted nothing more than to crush that blonde woman with all the magic she had.

She didn't. She wouldn't risk her few living friends being slaughtered just so she could have one last act of revenge. "What are your terms?" Hawke called out, her voice strong but weary.

"You, in exchange for your friends. Surrender yourself and they can go free. Unharmed!" Meredith added as Hawke opened her mouth to retort.

The lack of hesitation before Hawke said, "Deal," made Anders' heart lurch. She didn't give a thought to herself, only that her friends would be safe. This was the woman he loved so much. Carver, Varric and Isabela immediately let out noises of protest, of outrage.

"Don't do this, Hawke!" Varric's voice was flush with grief – he had had a particular soft spot for "Daisy," Merrill – but still held that usual tone of dissent when he thought she was doing something stupid.

"You can't honestly believe I'll let you do this after you saved me from the Qunari!" Isabela's response was incredulous, disbelieving.

Carver, in his Grey Warden armor, glared at her, "If you're trying to become some kind of martyr or something, I swear I will punch you, big sister or not. You are not doing this!" His voice wavered with fear for his sister, even though he was normally butting heads with her.

Anders said nothing. He could see it in her eyes, the determination, the hardness. Nothing he could say could convince her to rethink her decision, and arguing would only cheapen her sacrifice.

Hawke smiled softly at the two rogues and her brother and pulled them into a large hug. "Come on now, don't fret. You know me, I'll be out of her grasp in no time!" she joked through a grin, her voice strong and her face full of affection as she ruffled Carver's hair. Always full of jokes, even in such dark times. She pulled away from them before they could protest more and turned to Anders.

The gaze they shared lasted a full minute, but it was as if it was over in a second and she was pulling him to her, her arms around his neck and her face buried under his chin as if she had been made to fit against him. He could feel her whole body trembling, fear and exhaustion. She tilted her head up until they were nose to nose and her blue eyes bored into his with an intensity he had never before seen. Love, devotion, affection, and a hint of fear for what was to come. "I love you, Anders," she whispered just before she pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was far too short and in seconds Hawke was walking away, straight-backed and chin up proudly, without a glance back. It would be too hard for her to look back at them again, Anders knew she did it for herself as much as them.

The rough way the templars grabbed her made Anders' hands curl into fists. They dragged her away as if she were a rabid dog! Justice stirred in his mind, and he had to fight to keep the spirit – or was it truly a demon now? – from escaping and ruining Hawke's sacrifice. It was the least he could give her now.

"I must not be gone for too long, messere." Her voice was dull even as her words were meant to sound worried. She didn't seem concerned about anything, even punishment at the hands of the templars for her disappearance. She was empty.

Anders ignored her as he led her through the trees, ducking under branches and dodging around thorn bushes. It was slow going, but finally they reached the small clearing he had discovered for this very purpose. It was beautiful, with small flowers dotting the ground and a distant view of the ocean through the trees. It was exactly the sort of place Hawke would have loved. She would have come here to play games with Merrill and her Mabari, to listen to Varric's stories, to spar with Fenris, to crack jokes with Isabela, to attempt (and fail) to have a brother-sister moment with Carver, to give relationship advice to Aveline, to make love to him.

Now he turned to face her, holding her face in his hands and trying not clench his fingers into fists as that evil sun brand glared in his face from her forehead. Looking at her, deep into those painful, dull eyes, Anders could feel Justice raging within him, but he held the spirit back. He thought of all the terrible things templars had ever done to mages, of all the horrors his Hawke had likely suffered at their hands, the bruises on her pale skin and the red marks around her neck. He held Justice back until he could no longer.

Anders' eyes burned a brilliant blue, swirling with the powers of the Fade, and electric blue veins appeared throughout his whole body as a cerulean mist wafted off his body. He hated letting Justice take over, but it had to be done. He did it for her.

It was a struggle regaining control after that moment, but all he did was think of Hawke, of how her eyes now held that spark he had fallen in love with, of how she was now staring at him wide-eyed and reaching out to grab his shoulders, calling his name. She brought him back to himself, as she always did when Justice took over. He could always rely on her to save him.

When he came back to his body he was lightheaded, but in an instant he was overwhelmed by Hawke leaping on him, arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Somehow he kept his balance and wrapped his arms around her. He felt her tears burning against his skin as she pressed her cheek to his, sobs wrenching from her throat even as she moaned his name. He held her as tightly as he dared without injuring her, whispering soothing words into her ear, telling her he loved her, he loved her more than anything, he would never abandon her.

She pulled away, eyes, cheeks, and nose red from crying, but in that moment she was more beautiful to him than any woman had ever been. "I knew you would come for me, Anders," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "I knew you would save me. Karl was right, you really are like the sun—" her voice cracked and she smashed her lips against his so hard that he could taste blood trickling from his split lip, but he didn't care. He kissed her back as passionately as he ever had, and her moaning whimpers only spurred him on until they couldn't breathe and had to pull away, panting.

By the way those startlingly turquoise eyes were now crinkling with pain, Anders knew what was coming. Even expecting it, he felt his eyes and throat burning when Hawke said in a strong, if a bit shaky, voice, "Anders, you know what you need to do."

He shook his head in protest, "No, I can keep doing this, I can let Justice come out as soon as it goes away, and you'll be fine!" He was sounding like a child and he knew it, but he couldn't bear to let her go again.

Hawke, always so kind and gentle with him, shook her head and put her small hands on his cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn't even felt fall from his eyes. Her hands were warm again, but already he could feel their temperature dropping. She didn't have much time. "We both know that won't work," she said softly, reassuringly. "I love you so much, Anders. Don't let Meredith take it from me again."

He couldn't deny those pleading eyes any longer. Hawke released her leg grip on him and dropped lightly to the ground to stand in front of him. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck and buried her face in his collar so that he could feel her breath tickling his skin. Anders reached into his pocket and pulled out a dagger – her dagger that she had carried around 'just in case'.

His hands were shaking, but he kept his grip firm on the weapon. Hawke suddenly tensed and whispered frantically, "There's not much time, do it quickly!"

Anders pressed his lips to her hair one last time, his whole body trembling in inner pain, "I love you," he murmured before he pressed the dagger between her ribs and into her heart. Her small body shuddered and grew limp, and he had to wrap his arms around her and gently lower her to the ground. As her eyes began to glass over, she found his hands with hers and squeezed it weakly, looking up at him with an expression of more devotion and gratitude than he had ever witnessed. With one last, rattling breath she whispered two words.

"Thank you."