A/N: Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows; Anders does deserve some support. Hehe.

Disclaimer: Owned by Bioware, and I make no profit from this, but enjoy writing it regardless.


When we saw the Saarebas, I wanted to feel ashamed. I really did.

I had thought our lives – as mages – was an injustice, the way the templars herded us, forced us into subjugation after tearing us from our family's arms; for a moment, the moment I spent gazing upon the Saarebas, it all seemed so...trivial.

The beast of a man – that's what I call all the qunari I've ever seen(how can I not? Have you seen them? Huge is an understatement.) – he was literally chained, face half masked, and his lips...his lips were sewn shut. As a healer I could see that it wasn't to keep him from speaking, there was ample space for his lips to part should he wish to speak, so that left it as a symbolic gesture.

Compared to the Saarebas, my complaints of the templars felt...weak. We were allowed basic freedoms, should we not be made Tranquil. The Saarebas...he is the qunari equivalent, I figure, to our Tranquil mages. The difference was they were given no freedoms at all once they were discovered to be mages; they were immediately shackled, bound, made into servants.

Weren't we at least, in some way, allowed a semblance of a life in the circle?

This is where I sigh long and loud, and rub my temples as the headache comes on. Justice isn't happy with my way of thinking – any sort of subjugation in his eyes is wrong. He even accused me of keeping Ser-Pounce-a-lot against his will, though the cat was more than happy to stay with me. There were no grays when it came to spirits – as I've said before, you either cross the line or you don't. There was no such thing as toeing that line.

Naturally, even with Justice fuming inside of me every step of the way to do so, I wanted to help with escorting the Saarebas from Kirkwall, from his qunari captives. It went smoothly, save for one run in with unsavory ingrates, and we managed to make it out of the city using the secret passage provided to us by that Chantry mother and her templar lapdog.

That's when we learned it had been a trick. The Saarebas had been freed from his captives, his caravan, and the trail – although from the opposite direction than which we came – led these waiting qunari warriors right to us.

The leader demanded we return the Saarebas, saying his freedom was his crime. Justice threatened to tear from me in that moment and I seethed, deep, harsh, breaths that made my head spin. I could feel my skin tingle with awareness of the impending possession, but I had to keep him in check. Hawke would do the right thing, I was sure – she couldn't have wanted this kind of life, in its severity, for anyone.

"And if he doesn't want to go back?" She asked coolly.

The leader stepped forth and proclaimed, "Saarebas! Show that your will remains bound to the Qun."

Not even a minute passed when the man did as the other said. He knelt and bowed his head, submissive as any Tranquil mage. He didn't have a choice not really. He had been raised this way and knew nothing else, so why should he fight it? Hawke had to see what I saw, didn't she? I mean, even if I had a spirit spouting off every injustice he saw, it had to be obvious.

"My job was to get him out of the city," she admitted with a slight shrug of her shoulder, "if he wants to go back with you, that is his own business."

She really couldn't be as cold and uncaring as she seemed, could she?

The thought that she was, was maddening. Perhaps because this attraction to her wasn't diminishing with each display of uncaring.

In the end, the leader of the qunari unleashed the Saarebas to speak with us, then murdered him. Justice roared in my head and I winced. I even wince now, remembering the pain that came with his outrage. My temples throb in rememberance, I assure you. But before I could lose control, the qunari turned on us saying because the mage had been unleashed, and spoke to us, our deaths were demanded as a precaution in case we were corrupted by his speech.

Really? That explained their lips being sewn shut, I suppose.

The realization certainly didn't make Justice any less vocal, however. The resulting battle at least soothed the blood lust I felt whenever the spirit rallied to take possession of my body, likely stemming from the anger the usually opened the way for him. We returned to the Chantry mother, I don't care to recall her name, her's or the templar's.

She had wanted to use us to make an example of what became of qunari appeasers.

Hawke's eyes had narrowed on the woman. "You had better hope you never see my face again, or else I cannot promise what will become of you. You've made an enemy, one you will regret having betrayed."

"Take your money and go," the mother had sneered, throwing the bag of coins at Hawke's feet, "you are no one. Your word will have no standing against my own."

She was going to be trouble, I knew.

As if I didn't have enough trouble on my hands, and I'm sure Hawke had her own hands covered in it as well.

Perhaps Fenris was right; trouble seemed to find us, despite our best efforts to avoid it. But I refuse to think it's simply because we are mages. Perhaps my life may have been easier – perhaps I would not have merged myself with a spirit from the Fade – but these are things that cannot be changed now, things that are past and done with.

Now we can only walk forward, even if we dread the path we are on.