egkrateia (n.) - mastery over the self, self-control
Though it was Hawke's mother who had died, all of them felt the effects of it in the weeks that followed, and it was a subdued group that found themselves at the Hanged Man a fortnight later.
"Has anyone actually seen Hawke leave her estate since the memorial service?" Varric asked. "Fenris, you live closest to her; any Hawke sightings?"
"No," Fenris said, and stopped further inquiry with a long draw from his wineglass.
"Aveline?"
Aveline shrugged. "Hawke's been to see the Viscount once, but whether he was offering his condolences or talking business, I wouldn't know. He's been having more and more trouble with the qunari as of late, but I would expect Hawke to confide in us if she needed our help."
"Well, no, that's not quite true, is it?" Merrill said. "Hawke doesn't let anyone get close to her."
"You know, Daisy's right," Varric said thoughtfully. "Hawke's not really what you'd call a 'sharer.'" He emphasized the word by making quotation marks with his fingers. "And where the hell is Isabela? I haven't seen her in . . . it's been near a month now, maybe longer. Anyone?"
All around the table were shaking heads.
"I'm sure she'll turn up at the clinic next time she gets an . . . ailment," Anders said, wrinkling his nose.
"Well, with both of them out of the game my purse is starting to run a bit light, and Bianca is raring for some adventure," Varric groused.
"Actually . . . I could use a bit of help," Anders said with a sideways glance at Fenris. "I've been running a sort of . . . smuggling operation along with an . . . associate, and we've discovered that Circle mages are being made Tranquil without cause."
"You're not still on about the Tranquil Solution, are you?" Aveline said shrewdly. "I looked into that. The rumors were unfounded."
"But there's new information now," protested Anders. "There's a name to go with the whispers: Ser Alrik. He's wised up to the Underground and essentially shut us down. He's advocating that the mages he caught be made Tranquil, damn the Chantry and the First Enchanter, and rumor has it Knight-Commander Meredith agrees."
"But if that's true, we've got to do something . . . right?" Merrill said, looking around at all of them.
Varric shrugged and drained his tankard. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Aveline rolled her eyes. "Someone's got to make sure you don't all get yourselves killed. Or worse, arrested."
"How do you know where you're going?" asked Merrill timidly. Fenris stopped abruptly, and the Dalish elf crashed into him. None of the others knew about his late-night excursions with Anders. Fenris realized he didn't have a good answer.
"Superior elven senses, Daisy," said Varric smoothly, and winked at Fenris. Always the diplomat. It seemed the dwarf knew more than he let on. Fenris was grateful for his discretion.
Merrill frowned. "But -"
"Quiet," Anders said, holding up a hand to shush them. "Listen."
The faint clatter of templar armor echoed in the distance. It was impossible to tell which direction it was coming from; the cramped tunnels distorted the sound until it was no longer discernable.
They were so focused upon the distant threat of templars that they barely had a second's warning before bandits cloaked in black leather materialized out of the shadows. It was only Fenris' quick intervention that saved Merrill from a slit throat, and Anders' cone of cold froze enough of them in place for Fenris and Aveline to cut them down while Varric picked off the stragglers with his crossbow. Not quickly enough, however; Fenris still caught a dagger between the ribs, and from the wet gasps that seemed to catch in his chest it had punctured a lung. Fenris tasted blood in the back of his throat.
"You're hurt," Anders said, frowning, after the battle was done.
"I am fine," Fenris growled, then coughed. He spat out a mouthful of blood. He didn't need healing; he was no stranger to pain.
Anders let out an exasperated sigh and caught Fenris by the shoulder. He didn't bother pulling away. Anders held him in place while laying a palm flat against the wound. Fenris hissed as soothing green healing magic flowed from Anders' hand. He didn't want magic to make him feel better - pain was real, pain could be trusted. Magic could not.
But to Fenris' dismay, he trusted Anders. He had a terrible feeling it would be either his salvation - or his undoing.
Meanwhile Varric was patting down the corpses and came up with a tightly rolled scroll and a pouch full of dust. "Lyrium smugglers," he said grimly.
Anders nodded, not looking up from his ministrations. "I usually try to stay out of their way, but sometimes it can't be helped."
"Why would they want to kill mages, though?" Merrill asked.
Anders' face hardened. "The mages down here are trying to get out of the Circle. No Circle, no templars. No templars, no lyrium addicts. No smuggling business."
Fenris remembered being ambushed by the smugglers several months earlier. He and Anders had been trapped in a dead-end sewer drain and had barely escaped with their lives. Fenris had shoved Anders down into a stream of sewage to take a blow meant for him, but the Circle mage in their care had perished. Covered in filth and empty-handed, Anders had been sore about that for weeks.
"We should keep moving." Aveline's voice was strained.
They came upon no more resistance, although they narrowly avoided a templar patrol by ducking into a side tunnel. Anders gritted his teeth and blue light glowed briefly, illuminating fine cracks in his skin. Fenris wrapped a hand around his wrist and squeezed, hard, until Justice went dormant once more. Anders met his eyes. Fenris read weariness, fear and anger there. Anders nodded once to thank him, and Fenris acknowledged the gesture with a nod of his own. Against all odds, they understood each other this way.
The dark passage opened out into a wide chamber. A grate in the ceiling admitted a pillar of sunlight from the Gallows. A fully-armored templar towered over a crying wisp of a girl, his meaty fist tight as a vice on her upper arm. His head was shaven, and he had the bluest eyes Fenris had ever seen.
"Please," the girl whimpered, "please, don't hurt me. I'm just going to see my mum; she's sick, you see -"
The templar raised his hand and landed a stunning blow across her face. Merrill flinched as the mage cried out and fell to her knees. The metal gauntlet left a bleeding gash along her cheekbone and a red, hand-shaped imprint over her face.
"Ser Alrik!" Aveline said sharply. She had adopted her "captain-of-the-guard" voice, firm and commanding. "You will stop this at once and come with me."
Ser Alrik turned to face her fully and sneered. "You and what army?" he said, gesturing at the rest of the group. "You running your guards so ragged you had to hire mercenaries to confront me?"
Aveline sighed and looked down at her sword. "I am giving you a chance to come quietly. Save your career and your life, Alrik." She met his eyes once more, a fire burning in her green eyes. Fenris was impressed. She could be quite imposing when she wished. "I will not ask again. Last chance."
Ser Alrik roughly released the girl and drew his sword with a foreboding whisper of steel. "You'll regret this, Fereldan bitch," he hissed.
Varric winced. "Wrong answer," he muttered, bringing up his crossbow as Aveline charged at the rogue templar with her shield held high. Anders cast a protective spell on the cowering mage, shielding her from harm. Merrill called lightning out of thin air. Fenris hesitated, gauging the situation. Ser Alrik was no match for Aveline, and with Merrill's lightning whizzing every which way, Fenris knew he would only be in the way. He concentrated on defending Merrill, Anders and Varric from a possible flank attack.
In a matter of minutes, Ser Alrik lay dead and bloodied on the ground, his face resembling a mass of uncooked meat. Aveline had bashed him in the face several times with her shield. Adrenaline was still running high from the battle, so what happened next was not a complete surprise.
Fenris saw the flash of blue flicker in Anders' eyes before anyone else, so when Anders' tenuous grip on Justice faltered, Fenris reacted first. His lyrium tattoos flared as he threw his body between Anders and the girl. He dropped his sword - time seemed to slow - Fenris brought both hands up to grasp Anders' staff, stopping its descent.
"Anders," he bit out. "Justice - stop this madness!" Sweat beaded his brow with the effort of keeping the staff aloft. If it had been Anders alone, Fenris would have easily kept it at bay, but with the full force of Justice behind it, it was a much meaner feat.
"This is not justice!" Fenris said. The girl behind him cried out and made to crawl away while their companions watched with wide eyes and gaping mouths.
"Get away from me! Demon! Abomination!" the girl shrieked. Justice gave a bellow of rage and renewed his attempts to get at the girl.
"Anders!" Fenris tried again. He hated himself for the pleading note of desperation that crept into his voice. The man he had been before Kirkwall would have stepped aside, if he had even intervened at all. He would have let Anders destroy the girl and ripped his still-beating heart out - but Fenris couldn't even reconcile that self with the man he was now. "Do not become the monster they fear you are!"
That seemed to finally get through to Anders in the Fade, and the blue fog cleared from his eyes. His brown eyes settled on Fenris, still slightly unfocused. Fenris realized his sweaty fingers were still curled tightly over Anders' on the raised staff, but he was unwilling to release them just yet.
"Fenris?" Anders said. "What - what happened?"
Fenris' lip curled and he dropped his hands. "You arrogant fool," he said softly. Fenris turned on his heel and stalked away, shouldering past the shocked Varric, Merrill, and Aveline.
"Maker, what have I done?" Anders whispered, running a hand through his tousled hair.
Services had concluded for the day and the sisters had long since retired to their chambers when Fenris found himself standing before the enormous statue of Andraste. Fat red candles flickered on the altar, bathing the stone figure in soft light. The sun was low in the sky over Kirkwall, filtering in the long slender windows. Fenris hadn't set foot in the Chantry since . . . well, since Anders had asked for Hawke's help with Karl. It seemed fitting that the thrice-damned abomination was the reason for Fenris' visit now.
He heard boots approaching. Thinking nothing of another lost soul come to seek answers, Fenris didn't turn until Aveline said, "Fancy seeing you here."
The guard captain looked quite different without her armor - softer, somehow, though still as authoritative as ever. Fenris frowned. "I could say the same to you."
Aveline laughed. "No need to get prickly, Fenris."
He said nothing.
"Anders was right, you know," Aveline said. "Varric found a scroll on Ser Alrik's body, signed by the Knight-Commander herself. She's authorized the Tranquil Solution. The situation in the Gallows is much worse than we thought. I'll be taking the letter to the Viscount in the morning. He hasn't completely lost control of the city; with the Grand Cleric and the First Enchanter on his side he'll be able to rein Meredith in."
"Perhaps the Knight-Commander had the right way of it," Fenris said bitterly.
"You don't mean that," Aveline said. "You're just angry with Anders right now. Give it time."
Fenris made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat and looked away.
"You need him," she said, an accusing gleam in her eye. "And he needs you, as you demonstrated earlier today. You're like two sides of the same coin. One is not complete without the other."
Fenris said, "Did you know Andraste was once a slave in Tevinter?"
Aveline was taken aback by this abrupt change of subject. "Yes, of course. I was married to a templar once, after all."
"At the behest of the Maker, she led thousands to march upon the magisters. She might have destroyed the Imperium all those years ago, had it not been for Maferath's betrayal." He shook his head. "That is the way of it, though. We are most endangered by those closest to us."
Aveline gave a disbelieving laugh. "Is that what you think? That you cannot get too close to mages because they are a danger to you?"
"Magic is a danger to everyone."
"And fear makes men more dangerous than magic ever could!" She threw up her hands. "Fine," Aveline said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Carry on this nonsense of avoiding Anders for all the good it does you; the Maker watches over fools and little children."
It was clear from the emphatic way she thrust her chin out which category Aveline thought Fenris belonged in.
"You were there," Fenris said, his voice calmer than he felt. "You saw him lose control. If I had not taken action he would have killed an innocent girl. You cannot tell me he is not a danger to himself and those around him!"
"That 'innocent girl' is also a mage," Aveline reminded him. "Not so long ago you might not have stepped in so readily. After all, would the world not be better off with one mage fewer?"
Fenris stared at her. Had he always been so transparent? "It was as much for Anders' sake as for the girl's," he said. "To find he had murdered an innocent when he returned to himself - it would have broken him beyond repair."
Aveline arched an eyebrow. "So you don't yet believe Anders is beyond redemption?"
Fenris sighed. "No, but he soon may be. The thought of that day fills me with dread. Perhaps it would be better to see him perish before its arrival, but, selfishly, I find I am most unwilling to let him die."
"You are his friend."
"Indeed." Fenris chuckled darkly, his eyes shadowed from her view. "What cruel luck befalls me, that I should care so deeply for a mage?"
"It's not luck, Fenris," Aveline said. "It is fate."
As soon as Fenris crossed the threshold of the clinic, the good intentions he had fled him when he saw Anders' back to him, his feathered pauldrons hunched over a desk as he scribbled furiously. Anders turned at the sound. They stared at each other for a moment. Anders spoke first.
"If you're here to shout at me, you can leave." Clearly he could read the twist of Fenris' lip.
Fenris paced. "Festis bei umo canavarum!" he growled.
Anders stood up quickly, his chair tipping over backwards. "What-?"
"It means 'you will be the death of me!'" Fenris snarled. "I seem to recall you saying something a while ago, what was it?"
Anders jabbed a finger at him. "Don't you dare-"
"'I can control it.' Isn't that what you said?" Fenris shook his head. "I should have known better than to trust a mage." He spat at Anders' feet. The mage reddened.
"Have you forgotten what brought you to my clinic in the first place?" Anders snapped. "That everything you've done up to this point has been for the sake of a Circle mage? You're a damned hypocrite, you are. Maker, is there anything in this life you care about at all?"
"Leave Bethany out of this," Fenris said in a low voice.
Anders narrowed his eyebrows. "You do not love her," he hissed. "Her magic is so much a part of her, they cannot be separated. To hate magic is to hate Bethany. They are one and the same." Anders sneered. "You know, it's probably for the best. She couldn't possibly love you anyway. You're just her ticket out of the Circle. As soon as she's free, she'll drop you like a -"
With a roar, Fenris drew his sword and charged Anders. In one smooth motion, Anders brought up his staff and thrust his outstretched hand toward the enraged elf. Fenris was hit with an invisible wall of energy so forcefully he was thrown backwards through the air, landing hard on his back. His breath left him in a whoosh, and he struggled to draw air into his stunned lungs. He sheathed his sword and got to his feet, still wheezing. Anders' Mind Blast had served its purpose: Fenris had been brought to his senses. Anders had not moved from where he stood, hand still outstretched, though he had lowered his staff.
"Get out," Anders said. "I don't want to hurt you, Fenris. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Wanting it does not make it so," Fenris said.
"What do you want from me?" Anders cried. "Shall I grovel and beg your forgiveness? Tell you that magic is a filthy, evil curse that has no place in a good world? Is that what you want to hear?"
"It does not matter what I want to hear, Anders!" Fenris said, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He could feel his own markings illuminating and hear his blood pounding in his ears, which only served to upset him further. "What matters is that you are losing control, and sooner or later your foolishness is going to get someone killed. I cannot be a party to that!" The pause hung heavy in the air between them with words unspoken. Fenris shook his head. "For a minute there, I lost myself. It matters little now. I should have known better." Fenris' expression hardened. "I am done with you."
"Fenris, wait!" Anders closed the gap between them and laid a hand on Fenris' shoulder. "I can control Justice; I will prove it to you!"
Fenris shrugged him off. "Prove it to yourself. You're convincing no one else."
Author's note: A lot of references to other fandoms in this chapter. Kudos to those who pick up on them.
