Author's Note:

As always, thank you to all those who reviewed/alerted/faved. Never ceases to make my day a little brighter. :) Here's the second half (possibly 1/3rd? I'm still undecided if I will add a third part to this). I've taken a few slight liberties with the story-telling here. You may notice them if you've played through siding with the templars. If not, then forget I said anything. ;)

Enjoy,

-i.I

Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I had ownership of a world so amazing. Alas, it belongs to BioWare.

Final Confrontations
Part Two: Resistance

Just by the look on her face, Fenris could see that killing the mages was one of the hardest things Daedra Hawke had ever had to do. Fenris would catch a glimpse of her every now and again (which was damn near impossible with the speed the rogue moved around the battlefield), and notice that whenever she struck one down, it was like each death caused another little piece of what remained of her innocence to chip away, leaving a hard, numb shell in its place.

He vowed then, to kill as many of these mages as possible. Not out of any desire for revenge as one might think, and indeed, before he'd met her he would have revelled in each kill for precisely that reason. This time, however, it was more for her benefit. Because each one he killed meant one less that she'd need to kill herself. One small chance that he'd see her smile again without the weight of everything she'd done keeping it from reaching her eyes.

The entire journey to the Gallows was spent in near silence, save for the din and shouting of their occasional battle. Even the battle with the pride demon had been fought in a remarkably quiet atmosphere, considering the circumstances.

Following the initial entrance to the Gallows and the ensuing battle, Meredith and the rest of the templars set off to scour the rest of the building, leaving Hawke and the others to finish searching the main floor, promising to meet up again later. Hawke had set her jaw, and was uncharacteristically silent. There were no remarks made, trying to make light of the situation. No sarcasm. She slid her daggers into the scabbards at her back with practiced ease, pressing on without another word as he and the others followed behind her. Meeting eyes with Varric, the dwarf shook his head in sorrow as if he could read his mind. Aveline looked at him then, and the two shared a look of mutual concern for the woman they had all come to know and love (Well... all except the blood mage, who stayed with her simply out of respect. Yet, he could not deny that her ability to dispel magic was... useful, not that he would ever say it out loud).

It was an eerie change in Hawke's demeanour, and Fenris didn't like it in the slightest.

It only seemed to get worse when Anders showed up again inside the Gallows, accusing her of doing the templars' dirty work.

"Anders, I don't want to fight you." Her voice was quiet and controlled, though her unrest was evident in the way her shoulders slumped, "I don't have the heart for it."

"And yet you'll slaughter an entire building full of mages?" His face darkened to a scowl, "You have the heart for that?"

"Like you slaughtered an entire building filled with chantry priests and people seeking refuge? People who weren't even involved." She retorted, "Don't you dare think of yourself any higher than me."

Fenris felt his hatred for the abomination intensify more than he'd thought possible. Hawke had allowed him a second chance at life – something not many would have done – and now the mage was throwing it back into her face! Did he not see how his betrayal had affected her? How this entire battle was affecting her? Was he oblivious to how numb she had become?

"Do you think this is easy for me?" She drilled him, taking a couple steps closer, "My baby sister was an apostate, Anders! She feared the templars and the Circle her entire life! You are the one that started this war! I didn't want it to come to this, but I was forced to make a choice, and I made one!"

He was about to say something, but she stopped him, shaking her head, "Enough. I don't want to argue with you. It feels like the last ten years has been nothing but a big bloody argument, and frankly, I'm tired of it."

"I'm sorry." Anders said, forcing himself to calm down, his voice taking on a gentler tone than earlier, but it did nothing to appease Fenris' growing ire, "I'm happy that I met you, but I can't let you do this."

The abomination pulled his staff from his back, and Fenris wasted no time drawing his greatsword. From the corner of his eye, he watched Hawke's shoulders sag in a sigh, and she drew her daggers as more mages surrounded them.

He would kill Anders for making her do this. He certainly didn't mind killing mages, and would have no problem wiping this one from the earth after what he had done. His resolve to do so only strengthened when demons and shades joined the mages in their fight. It was uncertain if Anders had summoned them – chances were, he hadn't – but the fact that he was working with them was enough for Fenris to be sure the abomination had to be stopped.

Hawke disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and then the battle was started. Fenris cut an arc through the shades that swarmed him, gradually cleaving a path to Anders, who hurled a stonefist in Aveline's direction. He was about to warn her, but she caught sight of it at the last second, lifting her shield and cringing when her arm shuddered with the impact before pressing on.

For her part, Merrill mostly concentrated on dealing with the demons and shades, rather than the mages, which was reasonably understandable. That was fine with him – he would rather deal with the mages anyway.

Hawke was difficult to find, hiding in shadow, no doubt manoeuvring the battlefield like the expert he knew she was. Every now and then, he'd see a sudden flash of metal and a mage collapsing to the floor, or hear a shriek from one of the shades he hadn't even been attacking before it sunk down into the ground, defeated, and he knew it was her. After fighting together for so long, he could almost picture her movements. She would cloak, and round to the back of a group he or Aveline would draw, attack until the enemy turned on her, daggers fluid and flashing brilliantly, and then backflip out of range, dazing the adversary before shrouding herself in shadow to pursue a new foe distracted by one of the two warriors.

He recalled seeing her fight before in one particularly difficult battle. He was the only warrior with them at the time, and he'd been too immersed in his own fight with the raiders' commander to reach Varric before three of them encircled the dwarf.

"Hang in there, Varric!" He'd heard her shout, while he finally brought his fight with the commander to an end, running him through and withdrawing his blade with a jet of red blood, "Heads up!"

He whirled.

Hawke had ripped her daggers free from a felled raider before taking two smoke grenades from her belt. The first of which, she hurtled directly for the group surrounding the dwarf as she threw the other at her feet, concealing herself. The former had exploded in a gale of smoke, and the raiders stumbled, coughing and sputtering while Varric used the opportunity to retreat to a safer place of attack. Fenris started for the group, intending to assist, but it was not needed. She'd reappeared behind one of the foes, digging her dagger deep into his back and withdrawing it quickly, flipping the blades gracefully in her hand and stabbing them backwards into the man behind her. By that time, the third raider had regained his senses and moved to attack her. She dodged one debilitating attack and was about to defend against a second, but a bolt from the dwarf's crossbow suddenly shot past. The man stumbled to the side before collapsing on the ground in a heap, the bolt embedded deep into his temple.

He swore, she was meant to be a warrior for all of the rather unroguish jumping head-long into battle she was wont to do sometimes. Frankly, it had him fearing for her life on more than one occasion. But her speed, grace and agility certainly weren't the characteristics of a warrior, and picturing the small girl with a shield the size of Aveline's, or a sword the size of his own, was an image that just didn't seem to work.

He remembered she'd shot the archer a glare, betrayed by that quirky side-smile that was her signature, "I had it under control."

The dwarf was quick to respond with, "Who said you get to have all the fun?"

He hadn't seen that signature smile at all in the last few hours, and he found himself longing for it. For that simple little assurance that she hadn't lost her levity. That uncanny and unfailing ability to bring light to a situation, no matter how dire.

He had to admit, he was surprised to see the last shade fall through the floor, defeated, as well as all of the mages. He'd been so caught up in his reverie he'd been acting simply on impulse and felt a stab of guilt for not focusing his full concentration on the battle. The only remaining enemy was Anders, who lifted his staff in a brilliant show of lightning. Fenris wasn't waiting for it, and he leapt for the man, only to stop dead in his tracks at the tip of a dagger suddenly protruding from the abomination's chest, blood oozing out and staining the material of his robes. His staff fell from his grip and hit the floor with a resounding clank. Blood gurgled forth from the apostate's mouth and he jerked as the blade was pulled out, falling first to his knees and then on his side, stone dead. A painstakingly silent Daedra Hawke was revealed from behind him, frozen in place with her bloodied blade in a two-handed iron grip, still held at level with where Anders' chest had been. Her eyes were focused on none of her companions and she visibly trembled.

Fenris handed Aveline his sword to hold and wasted no time approaching the woman, bringing his hands up, and surrounding her white knuckles, prying her fingers away until the hilt of her dagger fell out of her grip and into his own. Her arms fell limp at her sides as he led her away, allowing her to sit on the stairs for a moment to collect herself while he cleaned their blades in silence.

It was no more than a minute later that she shook her head and let out a sigh, rising to her feet as the elf handed her blade back to her and she slid it into the sheathe at her back, setting her jaw, "Shall we?"

The expression was one of levity, but it was forced, and unaccompanied by the crooked smile he'd spent the better part of the night longing for.

They nodded the affirmative – they really didn't have a lot of time to sit around, they knew – and followed her through the remainder of the gallows and into the antechamber, where they were joined by Meredith and her templars, and greeted by none other than Orsino himself... surrounded by a dozen bloody corpses littered all over the marble floor.

Fenris watched Hawke's face, and he could almost hear the thoughts going through her mind with her expression. Something along the lines of, You have got to be kidding me.

He, however, was not so surprised. Evidently, neither was Meredith as she entered and the two engaged in conversation.

Willing sacrifices. Fools. It never failed. When backed into a corner, mages always resorted to the one option available to them that was unavailable to everyone else.

Then, Orsino mentioned a name that made Hawke go completely still. Quentin.

"Someone the Champion is familiar with." The look on that bastard's face. He said it as if Quentin and Hawke had gone out for a simple drink, or had gotten together for afternoon tea. That blood mage had killed her mother. Turned her into a walking jigsaw puzzle held together by magic, who had died in her eldest daughter's arms in a body that was not her own. It was almost as if he was proud of the part he'd played in the murder of innocent women. While he hadn't been the one to kill them, he certainly hadn't done anything to stop their deaths, and had enabled their killer by sending him those blasted books found in the basement of the foundry where they had discovered Hawke's mother.

"Quentin?" It was the first real emotion he'd seen expressed on her face since the beginning of this battle, and it was a look of disgust, "You were working with that murderer?"

"I kept his existence secret because I didn't want to give Meredith more ammunition against us." His angled, elven features twisted in contempt, "I see now I needn't have bothered."

"You son of a bitch!" Hawke shouted, taking a step toward him.

Fenris rose a hand to his sword.

"Are you telling me that if you had turned him in, my mother would still be alive?"

It almost surreal, he had to confess, watching the First Enchanter of Kirkwall's Circle of Magi resort to blood magic, but he could not really say he was surprised to see him draw a knife across his wrist. What was a surprise, however, was watching him use the bodies of the fallen mages around him to transform into some kind of twisted monster. He'd seen a lot of things in the Imperium as Danarius's slave. A lot of terrifying results of experiments-gone-wrong (and sometimes right) creating something that would be happier just put out its misery. He, himself was the result of one of these terrible experiments, though he couldn't say he would be happier dead. Especially not now, after meeting Daedra Hawke. But he could honestly say that in all his years in Tevinter, he had never seen anything like the disgusting, fleshy, thing that Orsino had become. If blood magic was capable of that...

Hawke was the first to move, immediately jumping into action, lunging forward with a shout, and rolling behind the slow-moving monstrosity as the rest of them followed suit.

Out of all the mages I've killed today, Fenris vowed, swinging his sword in a massive arc and cleaving a slice into the huge creature that barely even seemed to faze it, You are the one I will most enjoy killing.