Due to some pretty vivid visions for the story at this point, I have actually written this chapter ahead of "Rendezvous". I had to get this out on paper as it was begging to be written. If anyone is interested in reviewing, please let me know if I have made and continuity errors. I will, of course, double check, but a second or third pair of eyes never hurts.

This is truly how I would have liked "The Last Straw" to play out in the game. Bioware – take notice! ;) Considering this IS your game and all.

Annihilation

A chill is in the air as Carver steps off of the boat at the docks of Kirkwall. There were rumblings throughout the Free Marches of trouble between the templars and mages coming to a head soon, and he volunteered to go on behalf of the Grey Wardens to investigate. After all, Wardens were always needed – blight or not – and these types of situations often brought those worthy of the order into the spotlight.

Of course, he would never reveal his ulterior motives to his fellow brothers in arms. It has been some time since his last trip to Kirkwall, and a visit with Merrill would always be welcome to him. And he was always looking for an opportunity to pay his sister back for her endless assistance over the past few years. Still, he is on edge. Something does not feel right in the night air. There is a still all around him that makes him uneasy. The calm before the storm, so to speak. He hopes he is merely overreacting and makes his way up towards Lowtown. He suspects that if he will find his sister anywhere, it will be at the Hanged Man or her estate. And if she is at neither location, Bodahn will likely be around to help him find her.

He makes his way into the dark streets of Lowtown. The moon is merely a sliver tonight, and does not help light his way well. No matter, as he could find his way to the Hanged Man blindfolded and backwards. In fact, there were many times he had to find his way back out of that cursed tavern while he was completely incapacitated due to the dwarf's drinking games. He smiles at the thought as he rounds the corner nearest to the tavern's entrance. He is about to step into the doorway to let himself in, but stops as the ground beneath him tremors. The shaking becomes much more violent in the seconds that follow. He hears a tremendous rumbling noise, followed by what he perceives to be a violent explosion. He walks toward the centre of the street in front of the tavern and is thrown backwards against the wall from a massive shockwave of energy. Debris falls all around him, and small fires are starting to develop in the littered streets. He shakes his head and hears ringing in his ears. He knows nothing but pain and his vision is blurred. Above the ringing, he can also hear what he believes are voices. He turns to the entrance of the Hanged Man and can see patrons pouring out of the front door. They are all in shock of what is happening. A young woman – clearly one of the tavern wenches – sees Carver on the ground. She hurries to his side and takes hold the bar rag in her apron. She wipes at his ears, and as his vision becomes clearer, he can see blood on the rag as she pulls it away from his head.

"Messere! Messere, are you all right?" the woman asks.

"I…I am…shaken, but I…will manage," he says as he tries to stand. She assists in pulling him to his feet. He looks at the crowd, scanning to see if his sister or any of her companions came out from the tavern. While he does not see her, he notices that a number of people have made their way to the steps of the sunken Lowtown bazaar. Their faces display horror and fear – most have their hands clasped over gaping mouths. He thanks the woman for her assistance and hurries over to the crowd. As he reaches the stairs leading to the bazaar, his eyes turn towards where everyone's eyes have fallen. The Chantry. Only, it is no longer there. The great spires of the holy building have been replaced by thick black smoke and wisps of flame. It has been decimated.

He stumbles backwards, grasping for something to hang on to. He is well aware of the responsible party – and prays that his sister was not party to the madness. It cannot have been anyone but her mage…her love. He regains his composure for the moment, and rushes back through the crowd.

"The Champion! Has anyone seen the Champion of Kirkwall? I must find her!" he cries out to no one in particular. Blank stares greet his question in abundance. He begins to shake, fearful of the chaos that is about to overtake the streets, as they run red with the blood of a war he hoped would never come. He dashes towards the open tavern door and rushes inside. Empty! He calls out for his sister…for any of her friends, but does not receive an answer. Where in the Maker's name can she be?

As he turns to head back outside into the streets, he runs into a young boy of about sixteen years. He is about to question why the young man is entering the tavern, when the boy speaks.

"You are looking for the Champion messere? I saw her but a short time ago passing by here. She was headed that way," he says, pointing in the direction of Hightown.

Suddenly a fear grips Carver – what if his sister was in the Chantry when it was destroyed? He shakes aside the thought, knowing that she was not devout in the ways of the Maker in the least, and while she did visit Elthina from time to time, it was only to attempt to convince her to end the oppression of the templars. She had all but given up on that small hope the last time he had spoken to her. No, she could not be there. She was safe. She had to be.

He hurries through the streets in the direction of Hightown as the boy pointed. Crowds are gathering in the Lowtown bazaar and it is becoming more difficult to maneuver. He can hear elevated voices, crying, shouting. He rounds the corner and someone crashes into him. He is knocked to the ground. He picks himself off of the ground, and turns in the direction of the person who knocked him off of his feet. The person, he notices, who has not bothered to care about knocking him over. He catches a glimpse of familiar white and gold armour – the prince? His sister cannot be far.

Rushing around the corner towards the steps to Hightown, he sees her. She is standing with Aveline, Varric and Merrill. His heart skips when he sees the bodies of several templars surrounding them. There will be no getting out of this easily now. If his sister has provoked the ire of the Knight Commander, there will be open war.

"Carver!" Merrill cries out when she sees him. She hurries to him and embraces him. She is shaking. "You are a welcome sight!"

"Are you all right?" he asks her, and she nods. "What has happened here?"

His sister and the others approach them. Brief pleasantries are exchanged and she looks at him seriously.

"The Chantry is…" she starts to say.

Carver nods. "I know. I was not far from here when it…happened. I take it Sebastian will not be remaining with you throughout this."

She shakes her head. "Nor Fenris. He has gone with Meredith to assist her with the…extermination."

He can see the pained look on his sister's face. He looks at Aveline and Varric for assistance. They both see that he is questioning where Anders is. Aveline looks at the eldest Hawke and squeezes her shoulder. Varric merely shakes his head.

She shakes away from Aveline's grip and looks up at her brother.

"You don't need to coddle me!" she scolds. "I am a grown woman. I know you believe that Anders is responsible for this, and…he is. But he is gone now. I have sent him away. He does not deserve to be a part of this revolution any longer, nor should he be…martyred. I do not…wish him here. Are you here to gloat? To say 'I told you so'? You were right. You were always right, Carver. He was a mistake from the beginning."

"You don't mean that," he replies.

She hesitates for a moment. "He was a mistake," she repeats quietly, hanging her head.

He steps towards her and takes her by her hands. He lifts her chin to raise her head to look at him.

"Sister, remember when I asked you if you thought that you and Anders had a future together?" Carver asks.

"I do…and I wasn't sure at the time," she replies.

"Well, without you, he has no future," he says, looking into her eyes. "You love him. You have turned him away for the wrong reasons. I do not condone what he has done, and you don't have to either. But you need him to fight with you. He must atone for his actions by defending the mages. Defending you. Force him into a lifetime of making up for this action – at your side. I believe he would do everything in his power to obtain your forgiveness."

"But the innocents in the Chantry…so many lives…" she protests.

"I don't think you truly believe that any of them were innocent," he replies. "Complacency and apathy in this conflict are unacceptable."

His words shock her. She is silent for a few moments, as she considers what he has just said. Merrill looks at her expectantly. Varric and Aveline nervously exchange sideways glances, but Carver does not let his eyes waver from meeting hers. Finally, she puts her arms around him and squeezes him tightly.

"Thank you Carver. This time, you are the one who has saved me."

Revolution

Anders heads through the surface streets of Kirkwall as stealthily as he can. He is running for his life…again. Why couldn't she have just ended my life? he questions himself. Why has she allowed me to live? Justice must be served for the innocents I have slaughtered. He surprises even himself, as this is now his voice, and not the influence of Justice in the back of his mind. Justice has long been replaced by vengeance. But he should have had to answer for his crimes…to her…to all of them.

Yet now, he runs for his life. Likely to never see her again. The thought makes him double over in pain and he collapses against a wall. He cries out in anguish and knows regret. Not regret over all of his actions, but of those that caused her to abandon him to his fate.

You will run and not look back. You will not be made a symbol of this revolution by me. Your deeds shall be known throughout this land as cowardice…not insurgency. You have doomed all of us this day. You shall live out the rest of your days in hiding – thinking of nothing but what you have done. You did not trust me – and I cannot be in the company of someone who does not hold the same level of trust as I do…did…for them. You will go. I will likely not see the dawn, but if I do, you will still never look upon my face again.

Her words stung him. Cut him. Made him bleed out. Her voice was bitter, calm and unwavering. Maker, he had never heard anything like it. And when he turned to face her for one last moment – to drink in her beautiful face one last time – she had already turned her back on him. He wanted to shake her – to spin her around and beg for her forgiveness. He wanted to embrace her and kiss her sweet lips one last time. But there was nothing to say. No protest could be made. He was forced to flee.

He could hear the former Chantry brother scream at her for letting him go.

"You're letting him go? He murdered them all…her Grace is dead because of that bastard, and you let him run off? You will regret this Hawke! I will return to hunt both you and that bastard mage!"

Her voice – previously quiet and composed – was transformed into pure hatred and malice.

"You had best bring an army, Chantry brother, for you will not survive without one," she scowled bitterly – her words like poison.

And now, he kneels in the middle of the street and knows he must answer for this. And if she will not be his judge, he will die at the hands of the templars.

"I am here!" he screams out. His outburst attracts the attention of a small group of templars in the area and they approach him, wary of potential attack. They advance on his position and he sees them. Justice is more than willing to help him become a martyr for their cause, and Anders reaches his arms out towards them, letting his head fall down. With swords and arrows drawn, they apprehend the mage with no trouble. The commander of the group barks orders that since he is obviously trying to escape, he is to be brought to the Gallows for execution by the Knight Commander herself.

Anders says nothing. He does not move or attempt to heal himself as they pummel his face and body with their gauntleted fists. He is dragged to his feet by two larger men in the group. He is placed in shackles, obviously enchanted to prevent him from casting his magic. Yes, he thinks to himself, justice will be done.

The minutes tick by slowly as he is dragged through the streets. An eternity passes, and the blood on his face begins to crust over his wounds. The group is forced to stop numerous times to defend against rogue mages and their summoned pets. The Rite of Annulment has been invoked by the Knight Commander, and all mages found in the open are to be slaughtered like hogs. Anders groans as mage after mage, demon after demon is felled before him. He cannot wait for his turn to arrive – to end it all.

Most of the encounters come from the front, as apostates pour out from their hiding places in the Undercity, attempting to escape. One skirmish however catches the templars off guard, as it arrives from the rear. The two large templars holding Anders stop to help those in the rear defend against the attack, and he is passed to other guards. He looks in the direction of the assault and can see bits of magical energy swirling towards the templars that were following behind him. Unlike the other encounters though, this one seems unending. There is a powerful mage behind them – there is no doubt of that.

Suddenly a wall of ice appears directly in front of his position, entrapping the templars in its wake. It and the templars shatter into pieces as a boot kicks through the ice.

"Hands off the apostate!" a voice bellows. Anders' eyes widen – he recognizes that voice. But it can't be. She would never have…

The woman behind the voice steps into view and he sees her – eyes burning, hair dancing around her face. That beautiful face that he was threatened to never see again. When no one moves to release him, she crouches low and raises her arms above her head as she rises. She invokes her inner reserves and rains down fire all around him.

"I said let him go!"

The templars holding him move to attack her, but she merely extends an arm and an unbelievable force of energy leaves her hand, knocking one of the templars into a nearby building. With no hesitation, she spins her staff at the second templar, striking him with the bladed end. There is destruction in her wake, and swiftly, the templars are but lifeless figures on the ground.

Anders looks at her dumbfounded and her face goes pale. She stumbles, then collapses into a heap on the ground. He rushes to her side, hands still bound. He can do nothing for her. He looks past her, agonized. He sees figures approaching through the cloud of smoke behind her, and soon her companions come into view.

"Carver?" Anders says, shocked at her brother's presence. "They have me bound. Please…let me help her."

Carver pulls his blade from his back as Anders silently prays that he will answer his request. With a swooping motion, he brings the blade down on the shackles, breaking them apart. Anders tosses the metal as far from him as possible and immediately cradles her in his arms. He fumbles at his belt to find a reserve of lyrium as she has collapsed from the overexertion of her magical abilities. He brings the vial to her lips and slowly pours the liquid into her mouth. His skin grows warm as he attempts to discover hidden injuries to heal. Closing his eyes, he pulls her close and whispers "You're stronger than this. Do not leave me."

"Anders?" a weak voice murmurs.

He opens his eyes and sees that hers have fluttered open. He embraces her tightly, rocking slowly back and forth.

"I'm sorry," he repeats to her quietly.

"No," she whispers. "I am sorry. I regretted what I said to you the moment the words left my lips. I always knew that this was how it would have to end. I knew that there will be no chance for peace without war –"

"I should have trusted you, love," he cries out, interrupting her. "But I just…I didn't want you to be…this wasn't your burden to shoulder."

He slowly releases her and helps her sit up.

"It is our burden Anders," she says. "Always has been…always will be. I've always known what you had to do. I have insisted that I do not want a normal life. Forgive me for momentarily forgetting that." She glances over at Carver, who nods at her. With that one tiny action, Anders knows it was her brother that helped her remember.

He embraces her again and she nuzzles her head into the crook of his neck.

"You cannot leave me. And I will not kill you for an action that may very well be the only way we mages can be free. I need you by my side, or I will not be able to see this through. You and I – we have business to attend to."

"Are you able to do this?" he asks. Their companions help them both to their feet.

She nods. "I am."

She turns and heads in the direction of the boats to the Gallows. Varric approaches Anders and clasps his shoulder.

"Make it right, Blondie," he challenges the mage.

"I intend to," Anders replies. He hurries to walk beside his love – this woman who has given almost everything to be his protector. He will not let her down again.