From your face, your eyes
They're burned into me.
You saved me, you gave me
Just what I need.
Oh, just what I need.

Another pair of amethyst eyes float in his mind as he finishes with his patients for the night, but they are not full of deep shadows, reflecting back a heart so scarred with pain he's not sure how it keep beating. Hekate's eyes were always lit with laughter when they were children, twinkling with mischief when she reached her adolescence, glowing with strength as the Warden Commander, though it wasn't a harsh glow, but something like the warmth of the sun, her good humor still evident in the violet depths. Thinking about her takes him back so many months, across so many miles, back to Vigil's Keep. Back to the last day he had seen those happy, laughing eyes…

"All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools." As far as Anders was concerned, none of those were unreasonable desires; happiness and a full belly were the basic rights of every living being, and if the Maker saw fit to make him a mage, well, who were mortal men to argue the point? Seven escape attempt from the Circle of Magi, an unexpected run-in with an old acquaintance (who was a very pretty girl, but, unfortunately, not his girl), and a mouthful of darkspawn blood later, here he was, sitting down to a huge dinner with the rest of the Grey Wardens after a long day of electrocuting anyone who was stupid enough to try to challenge them. Nathaniel and Oghren were fighting over who got the first basket of bread, and while they were distracted he neatly filched the dwarf's mutton chop, setting it on his own plate to eat.

"Hungry or just seeing if he notices?" asked the woman on his right, tossing her head slightly to try to clear a stray black curl from her face as she ate soup with a horn spoon with one hand and read through the piles of letters and documents awaiting her attention as arlessa of Amaranthine. "Because I wouldn't put my hand anywhere near Oghren's plate when he hasn't had anything to drink. He might eat it instead of the food."

"Even with only one hand I'd still be able to heal better than you. My fireballs would be hotter too," Anders replied cheekily, stuffing his face with meat and potatoes, then washing it all down with a mug of ale, handily liberated from Warden Howe while his back was turned.

"Maybe, but Velanna's are still bigger. And do more damage."

"You know, for such a beautiful woman, you really are very cruel sometimes."

"So Alistair keeps telling me."

"How is the king anyway?"

"Bored. He says he'd rather be here fighting darkspawn than dealing with all the nobles. But of course, I don't tell him mow much fighting with nobles is done here, either." She sighed and set the letter down, running her now-free hand through her hair. "Whoever thought we'd actually miss how simple the Blight was: get up in the morning, kill something, eat, kill something else, recruit allies, kill other things, go back to camp, eat dinner, make loud, mad, passionate love in my tent all night. Those were great nights, just thinking about it makes me want to…"

"Not listening to this…" Her lips quirked again, then broke out in a full grin, which he returned in full force. She was mocking him, and he knew it; of all the apprentices at the Circle, she had been one of the very few who wasn't hiking up her robes with every other person there, unlike him, who had so many lovers he couldn't count. The Warden-Commander and King of Ferelden had fallen hard for each other, though, and at times it made heart ache for her when he saw the distance in her eyes and knew she was thinking about the man she loved, miles away, trapped in a marriage of politics to his brother's widow with them only able to be together when the nobles and darkspawn cooperated. All I want is a pretty girl… "Hex, stop being so damn noble and go see him already. Half the country thinks Anora's barren already, and if the King were to divorce her and marry the Arlessa of Amaranthine, no one would say a damn thing."

"The Void they wouldn't."

"They wouldn't! You saved the entire world from a Blight. Remember that? Stabbing the big corrupted demon dragon in the head? Everyone would love you as their queen!"

"Right, just one small problem there." Removing her hand from her hair, she made a fist, then spread her fingers, a small ball of blue flames hovering over her palm. " 'Magic is to serve man, and never rule over him.' Though personally, if you ask me, Alistair does more serving than anyone else I know, but we're listening to Andraste and the Chantry, not me."

"To keep two hearts which love so brightly apart because of their circumstances of birth is not just," said a low voice from behind them, and the two mages turned to see the rotting corpse face of Justice standing behind them, obviously very interested in their conversation.

Hekate laughed, a long, clear, bell-like peal that echoed in the hall for a moment as she closed her hand to smother the fireball, then shook out her hair again, gathering her letters from the table. "I hate to break it to you, but justice and mages rarely go together in Thedas."

"That is… disturbing." Justice's face was getting decidedly less expressive lately as there is less and less skin, but Ander's guessed he was upset.

"That's reality, Justice. So, Hex, off to settle another dispute in the arling tomorrow? Safe journey." He nudged her, flickering his aura against hers in a friendly manner.

"Be well both of you; Anders, behave while I'm gone. Stroud's running things, Maker help us." She shot a glance across the hall where the Orlesian second-in-command foisted on her by the First Warden's orders sat. "And try not to kill Rolan will you? I know he's an ass, but it will just cause more problems with the Templars. Again."

Both man and spirit bid her good night and clear roads, watching until her blue robes disappeared around a corner towards her chambers. "There is truly no justice for your people, is there mage? She will never be allowed to live freely with the man she loves, not he to freely to love her in return."

"It's better for mages not to love at all. Loving something or someone just means that the Templars can use it against you." Poor Pounce. Rolan had seen how much he meant to Anders and run off to Stroud, who even brought the First Warden into it when Hex wouldn't make him get rid of the cat. At least Nathaniel's sister was taking care of him, so he knew that he was safe. "All I want is a pretty girl, but I'll never get her without fearing every waking moment that the templars will take her from me." He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until he heard Justice's sharp his as the spirit started, staring him down.

"They would not dare do something so… unjust."

He laughed, finishing his filched ale and standing to stretch before heading off to his own bed. "Oh yes they would. After all, they took me from my mother before I was twelve, and Hex from her parents before she was even that old. If they can take babes from arms, why not lovers? We're only mages, after all. No one cares about us but, well, us."

Try not to kill Rolan, Hekate had said. The last words between them; next dawn she was gone, and next night Justice had made his offer: "It is time. You have shown me an injustice greater than any I have faced. Do you have the courage to accept my aid?" He knew what the offer meant, knew what he would become, but he couldn't stand it anymore: the thought of being able to do something, anything, that would create a world where Alistair ruled with his beloved Queen Hekate while he lived in peace with his own pretty girl and their bevy of children, never having to fear the templars as long as they lived… Such visions were his courage, and he said yes, never fully considering, never fully thinking what he was doing, who he was doing it in front of. Rolan, damn his soul, had gotten permission to hunt and kill him as an abomination, and it was his twisted rage when the battle killed the templar, and changed him forever. There is no justice for mages; there is only vengeance. Anders finishes with his last patient and glances towards the slot window, noting the low red glow on the horizon. Good, it will be dark soon, and they can go rescue Karl. A rush of excitement runs through him, and for a moment he is unsure if it is at the though of finally seeing is friend free, or seeing the apostate girl, Hawke, once more.

Somehow, I couldn't stop myself.
I just wanted to know how it felt.
Too strong, I couldn't hold on.
Yeah, yeah.
Now I'm just tryin' to make some sense
Out of how and why this happened.
Where we're heading, there's just no knowing.
Yeah, yeah.

A/N: Standard "I don't own a darn thing" disclaimer (including a wireless keyboard, since it decided to die on me, and getting used to this old keyboard again is about to drive me insane because the keys are So. Darn. Small.) Lyrics from "Crashed" by Daughtry. I know it's supposed to be a love song, but for some reason when I was listening to it the other day it reminded me of Justice and Anders. Maybe I'm just twisted that way. Or maybe someone needs to write a slash fic about them. But not me; I'm not in to necrophilia.