Chapter 2


Anders could hardly believe his own ears; for a moment he thought he was hallucinating. 'Marius, is that you,' he whispered cautiously, hoping he wasn't making a fool of himself. 'How did you get in here?'

Marius was one of the young recruits of the Mage Underground and undoubtedly the most dedicated and talented. 'By using magic,' he whispered back.

'Have you gone mad?' Anders hissed agitated. 'They will kill you, or worse, when you get caught!' No one had to explain to a mage what that "worse" meant.

He got up from his cot and shuffled to the iron bars that stood between him and his freedom. Together with an army of City Guards and several more locked doors, he had to admit, but right now these bars were the first obstacle. If they were conquered, who knew what was possible. In the sparse light he could discern a cloaked and hooded figure, crouching in the shadows.

Justice stirred in his head. 'You have to get out of here. You can't serve the Mages' Purpose in this cell.' He always managed to pronounce those two words with the capitals falling heavily into place. Normally it didn't bother Anders, but right now he was vexed.

'Oh, now you deign to speak,' he scoffed. 'And where were you when I needed you, hm?'

'You didn't need me to yell and wail at the walls about you're pathetic fate, nor to humiliate yourself before the Guard Captain,' the spirit replied dryly. 'But you need me now. Heed the young man.'

'This is the Keep, not the Gallows,' said Marius in the meantime, oblivious of the short inaudible argument,. 'There are no Templars in this place who can recognize magic. And I didn't kill anyone; I've just used a mild sleeping spell. It's safe for now but we'll have to hurry.'

Anders heard the rattling of keys and a moment later his prison was opened. He followed Marius, occasionally stepping over bodies that seemed to be guardsmen being sound asleep. When they reached level ground, he grabbed Marius's sleeve. 'This is getting dangerous,' he murmured concerned.

Marius turned and smiled at him. 'No, master. Everyone is asleep and before they will wake up, we'll be long gone.'

Just a mild sleeping spell? Bloody hell, this boy is indeed extremely talented.

And then the title Marius had used to address him got through to him.

He hated to be called "master". It reminded him too strongly of the heated words of that, that -of Fenris when he was going off, ranting about the Magisters in Tevinter and their evil deeds. Deep in his heart he had to agree with him. Magic shouldn't be malevolent, magic should serve men. Yes, Andraste's words and, damn her, but she had been right. Deep in his heart he knew the elf was right as well. There were too many mages who took advantage of their gift. But then again, being driven to the edge brought out the worst in men, and thus in mages as well. Some men would reach for their knives or simply use their fists. Other men would turn to bribery or hiring assassins. Mages would turn to blood magic. Especially in this city with that paranoid bitch Meredith in charge. She was the embodiment of malice.

'Magic shouldn't be punished,' Justice rumbled.

Shut up, Anders thought.

'Don't call me that,' he said up loud to Marius. He caught the boy's puzzled and slightly confused look. 'I'm not a master and certainly not yours.' Master, Magister – damn you Fenris.

'I'm only showing you the way out,' the young man said, visibly taken aback. 'And you've agreed to make me your apprentice, so I thought it only appropriate to call you master.'

Had he agreed? He couldn't recall. Yes you did, before you got tangled up with your obsession. Your weakness. That woman,' Justice remarked reproachfully.

shut up shut up shut up

'It's alright,' he mumbled weakly.

Sometimes being driven to the edge could bring out the best in people. That's how he wanted to remember Albran Hawke. She always stood ready to help the needy, even mages. He always could have counted on her.

And then he had gone and spoiled it all. Shut up!

Without any further comments he followed Marius out of the Keep into freedom. Apparently there was some obscure backdoor leading to an even more obscure backstreet. He inhaled the – relatively – fresh air of Kirkwall. He stopped and laid a hand on Marius's shoulder. 'Before you take me to wherever you're intending to take me, there is something important I have to do,' he told his evident apprentice.

The young man didn't argue but followed him with a troubled look.


'Please Hawke, try to see my point of view,' Aveline pleaded. 'Reconsider your decision. For the sake of the common good.' She practically begged and she hated it.

But Hawke put her foot down. 'For the common good? Don't make me laugh. What you mean is for the good of the nobles and I don't care a rat's arse about their good or bad or everything in between. Let them stew in their own expensive juice.'

'Now listen here, young lady,' the Guard Captain started in a threatening tone but the affect of her stern attitude was spoiled by the loud, be it somewhat shrill laughter Hawke let out.

'Do you really have to sound like my mother? It's hilarious.' She shifted in her chair. Frankly, it wasn't that hilarious at all, but she had to stop feeling guilty about her mother's death. This helped. A little. Consider it a form of therapy.

Aveline changed tack. 'Albran, look at it this way: if the people in Lowtown turn into a mob and start a riot, it will ruin your wedding day. You must agree that when corpses begin to fill the streets, it will significantly lower the merriment of the festivities.'

Hawke grumbled something unintelligibly under her breath. She stood and filled the glasses with the white wine from the bottle sitting in the wine-cooler. After that she poked in the fire that needed no poking whatsoever. For a moment she let her eyes wander over the titles stacked in the bookcases of her library without really seeing them. I should make time for cataloguing them, she thought absentmindedly. She knew Aveline had tried to talk Fenris out of what she thought was a preposterous idea. But the elf (the enchanting, breathtaking handsome and heart crushing, caring elf – her elf, she reminded herself and it brought a fleeing soft smile on her face) had refused to risk another argument. He simply had stated that if Aveline wanted a solution, she had to talk to Albran herself. And thus the Guard Captain had paid her a visit. Hawke sat down again and took a sip of her wine.

Aveline took (or as it turned out mistook) her silence for an accord. 'So, I have finally convinced you?' The plain answer she received made her want to strangle the other woman.

'No. We will get married in the Alienage, whether you like it or not.'

The Guard Captain flared up. 'Damn it Hawke, you stubborn piece of-'

'Hear me out before you insult me,' Albran snapped. 'I understand that you fear you won't be able to keep the peace in Lowtown; it's hard enough as it is without all those snotty pretentious members of society nosing about the place. So, we will have an intimate consecration under the Vhenadahl Tree. Friends only. And elves, of course, because we can hardly lock them up in their hovels or chase them away. Besides that they are more than welcome. After that we will have a celebration in the Keep where the curious high and mighty will get every opportunity to gawk at Fenris as much as they want to. I assure you, he's enormously looking forward to it.'

'The nobility will not be pleased,' Aveline remarked grumpily but she couldn't help grinning. 'You know their damned pride.'

'The nobility can choke on their precious pride,' Hawke said obstinately. 'The fact I'm the Champion doesn't mean I'm their public possession. And that counts even more for Fenris.'

'You know they still see him as your body guard.'

'Then they will have to get used to him being my husband, won't they.' Determinedly she clenched her jaw.

Aveline shook her head. 'Alright,' she sighed, 'I think we have reached some middle ground. It won't appease the nobles -'

'Good. I don't intend to appease them.'

'- but at least it will prevent a lot of bloodshed.' Aveline felt exhausted. Having a discussion with Albran Hawke was no small feat, that was to say, if she had set her mind on something. Getting her way for example. 'You will still need an escort. And I will have to call upon my men to keep the nobles from following you.' She groaned inwardly. 'What a sight that will make.'

Albran smiled broadly. 'A pity I won't be there to witness the scene.'

'You know the Seneschal will be livid.'

Hawke's smile broadened even more. 'I can't wait to hear his objections.'

Finally Aveline slumped back into the chair and heaved her glass in a toast. 'You win,' she surrendered with a smirk.

'I never was aware we were having a fight,' Albran countered sweetly.


Fenris stared at his reflexion in the mirror of the outrageously expensive dress shop.

'I think you look dashing,' Varric commented. He took a bite of a piece of toast topped with delicious smoked salmon and a delicate sip from the flute filled with exquisite champagne, both offered with the complements of the house. 'It better be worth it, mind you,' he smirked roguishly. 'The suit you are measured with costs more than your whole estate, lock, stock and barrel. And I should know it.' He was lounging on a couch with far too many frivolous ornaments to be comfortable. But a Tethras felt at home anywhere. Even on a ridiculously adorned couch in a far too pricy shop filled with assistants who acted more snooty than the average Orlesian bred noble in Hightown.

'I look like an overdressed baboon,' Fenris protested.

Two dressmakers were hovering around him, lifting his arms, shifting his legs, tinkering with a tape measure and sticking pins in the vicinity of very disturbing regions of his body.

Varric shrugged. 'Sometimes a man has to make a sacrifice for the woman he loves,' he stated boldly. 'And when he accomplishes that feat and still manages to look striking, he's a hero.'

'Perhaps in your stories he is. But I dare to wager your heroes never have to stand on a dais, being manhandled and forced to wear an outfit a dragon simply would whisk away with one breath.' Fenris was getting desperate.

'Think about it this way,' Sebastian offered, 'your beloved will even love you more when she's aware of the sacrifice you bring to her benefit.'

Fenris glared suspiciously at him while one of the dressmakers almost deprived him of his manhood with one of his vile pins. 'I can only hope she suffers as much as I while she's trying on her wedding dress.'

That made Varric almost choke with laughter, and in his mirth he generously started spreading crumbs around.

'You really don't know much about women, do you.' He laughed even harder when he saw the elf's flustered face. 'Let me tell you they revel in what you consider a predicament. There will be much tweeting and chirping, giggling and cries in awe, and endless turns around just to hear the satisfying sound of the rustling of acres of silk, and basking in the affect. And then they do it all over again with another dress.' By now Fenris's face was an example of uncomprehending abhorrence. 'But think about the moment she will rip that perfectly fitting suit off your frame with heated excitement,' the dwarf pointed out, grinning devilishly. 'You will be thanking the Maker for a long time.'

Sebastian looked at him with a hurt expression. 'You're turning a sacred moment into something vulgar,' he complained.

'What?' Varric said innocently. 'I wasn't aware that the Maker or Andraste, besides all their other activities, or non-activities as you will, also meddled with a man trying on a wedding suit. What's so holy about that?'

Sebastian rolled his eyes. 'You know perfectly well what I mean.'

Varric cocked his head with a cunning glint in his eyes. 'And here I was, thinking that consummating the wedding was an essential part of the nuptials and as sanctified as said nuptials themselves. Better get the best out of it. That's my opinion.'

The Chantry brother just snorted disapprovingly.

'You're just jealous,' Varric concluded.

Sebastian didn't deign to react on that particular jab. Although it secretly hurt. A little, at least.

About a very long hour later they were standing outside the shop, to Fenris's immense relief. That relief was of short notice.

'And now we're going to search for a pair of matching shoes,' Varric said with a vicious grin, beforehand anticipating the elf's reaction. He didn't get disappointed; the look on Fenris's face was priceless.

'Shoes?!' the elf exclaimed in desperation. His voice caught with raw panic. This was definitely going to be the worst day of his life.

Varric, on the other hand, was amusing himself intensely and thought this day was compensating fabulously for the awful one of yesterday. 'Yes. Shoes. You can't marry the woman of your dreams barefoot; besides that, it would ruin the suave affect of the suit.'

And without further ado, but with huge satisfaction, he started to drag the highly reluctant elf along.


Although she was fairly satisfied with the outcome of her talk with Aveline, Albran felt ill at ease, as if something bad was about to happen.

Don't be such a twit, she chastised herself, what could possibly go wrong? Except for rain on the wedding day, the wedding cake collapsing, tripping over the hem of your dress and tearing the fabric, an outbreak of food poisoning because of badly gone canapés, Fenris getting cold feet ... Oh, stop it, you utterly stupid old bore.

After she had seen the Guard Captain out, she had returned to the library. She flopped down in a chair and poured herself another glass of wine. She wondered how Fenris was faring. She grinned inwardly at the livid images in her mind of a panicky elf, surrounded by know-all fussing shop staff, one too serious ex-prince who would do nothing but increase his anxiousness, and one dwarf definitely up to mischief. The poor elf had looked unnerved and wound up already before they took off, and he was undoubtedly getting more irritated by the minute. Then again, according to the impish way Varric had been smiling when he and Sebastian collected Fenris, he was having one hell of a good time. She was pretty certain her wondrous husband-to-be never had thought about these consequences when he asked her to marry him, otherwise he had abandoned the whole enterprise even before the start.

She was so lost in her musings that she never heard him entering the room. When she noticed his presence it was already too late.

She went completely rigid. Visions of that gruesome night, such a short time ago, started to swirl around in her mind. She wanted to scream but no sound passed her lips. The overwhelming feeling of being powerless returned, together with the paralysing terror and the crushing realization of being violated by someone she had considered a friend. The shattering of trust. She had been so busy being happy about Fenris returning to her and with the preparations for the wedding day, that she had managed to lock away those horrible memories into a distant and secured corner of her mind. But now they engulfed her, taking her in a suffocating hold. Or perhaps surrounded her like a swarm of killer bees, stabbing her with deadly stings.

This must be a nightmare. I've fallen asleep. This is not real. This is a delusion. It has to be. Wake up. Wake up!

She started to tremble.

Anders just looked at her. He had prepared a whole speech, all the while repeating the words in his head on his way to her mansion, but now those words escaped him. She was visibly so shocked and terrified that it broke his heart. He had done that to her. The moment he had walked into her library she had looked content, blissful even; the moment she became aware of him, that look had turned into a picture of mortal fear. He took a step forward and in return she tried to disappear into the back of her chair.

Say why you came here for and be done with it, Justice droned, we have more urgent things at hand. Right now he very much wished he could hit that blasted spirit. Hard.

'How did you get in here,' Albran finally croaked.

He took another step and she flinched fiercely. She looked like a trapped rabbit and it hurt him. He raised his hands. 'I'm not going to harm you,' he assured her, hoarsely. He indeed felt like he was trying to calm down a cornered animal. She stared wide-eyed at him. 'I'm only here to tell you how sorry I am for what I've done to you.'

'How did you escape,' she whispered, not listening at all to what he said.

Anders swallowed. 'Please hear me out, Albran. I love you and always will, although I'm well aware you will never be able to return that feeling. I came to apologise for my appalling deed and to say goodbye. I know I can't be forgiven but believe me, it was never my intent to hurt you.' She just stared at him with those petrified wide eyes. Those beautiful glistening divine eyes. 'I'll take my leave now, I won't bother you again.' He barely could hold back his tears.

Outside the mansion Marius was waiting for him. They crept away in the falling dusk and fled the city.

Albran stood up from the chair. She made an effort to walk to the door but her legs gave way and she crumpled on the floor.

Go away, she silently cried, go away go away go away. Leave me alone.

Like she had done after Anders had raped her, she curled into a ball and waited for her dark memories to disappear into that far away corner once more.

That's how Fenris found her not much later.