***Major Trigger Alert***
This chapter includes multiple references to past rape, past sexual assault and the aftermath thereof, including reference to the implied sexual assault of minors. These are placed firmly in the setting of the canonical events leading to the destruction of Kirkwall's Grand Chantry and the Mage Rebellion and are not intended to be gratuitous.
This chapter also includes Anders' attempt to justify/explain his actions within this context. I have tried to explore what might motivate an otherwise engaging and sympathetic man to carry out an atrocity on that scale, without attempting to condone or excuse his actions in any way.
Part 2 of this three-part chapter is based on the War-Table operation 'Annexing Kirkwall' and contains no game spoilers.
Marcus learns that Sebastian Vael's position may not be as strong as it appears but this does little to solve the immediate problem. Cole attempts to help the young Inquisitor with his abiding grief and a message arrives from Red Jenny
Cullen's moment of much-needed solitude is interrupted by the intrusion of a former comrade and Marcus finally confronts the man responsible for his sister's death…
****Disclaimer****
Dragon Age: Inquisition is copyright to EA Games and I own nothing to do with it (not even that sweet, adorkable, stammering Fereldan cinnamon-roll Cullen 'Maker's Breath!' Rutherford, *sigh*). Characters and situations are used solely for non-commercial entertainment purposes.
Please review and comment, constructive feedback is always welcomed. Many thanks for all the comments and feedback given so far
9:36 Dragon: Willowberg Keep, Terynir of Ostwick; ancestral seat of House Trevelyan
"Isn't it just perfect?"
The wide, flounced, skirts of the dress flared out at Alysanne Trevelyan spun around; sparkles of light flashing from the tiny Brilliants woven through the fabric. Marcus lolled on the couch, grinning as he bit into a peach. The wedding gown was spectacular, Papa had imported one of Val Royeaux's finest dressmakers to work on it and his sister would look as magnificent as a Grand Duchess…
"It's splendid, Sunny! But isn't it a bit much for berry-picking?"
"Beast!" his sister laughed, hurling a cushion at him "Isn't he an utter beast, Ser Aidhan?"
"Oh, a total monster Milady!" The young Templar smiled in agreement "I'll see that he's properly punished for it."
Marcus winked at him
"I'm looking forward to that!"
Alysanne threw herself down on the couch beside Marcus, pouting in annoyance
"It's so unfair you can't come to the wedding. You passed your Harrowing and Ser Durward gave permission. All because of that horrible woman…"
Knight-Commander Meredith had denied permission for Junior Enchanter Trevelyan to enter the jurisdiction of the Kirkwall Commandery and attend the wedding of the Lady Alysanne to the Lord Philip Redbank. It was pure sour grapes; the Redbank family's alliance with the Trevelyans took Baron Julius several steps closer to his goal of securing Kirkwall's vacant throne and Meredith knew it. She couldn't stop the marriage, but she could prohibit the bride's Mage brother from attending. A petty, small minded, move hiding behind public policy…
…At a time when the Mage problem is at its height, it would be inappropriate and dangerous for a Mage, sporting the trappings of nobility, to be seen attending such a significant event.
"…such an insult! When Baron Julius becomes Viscount, I'll make sure he has her replaced; then you can come and stay with us at the Keep whenever you want…"
She patted her younger brother's hand and he laughed fondly. It was always so simple and straightforward for Sunny; even as a child she had a solution for everything, no matter how impractical that solution might be.
"He's not Viscount yet and, anyway, it's the Grand Cleric who appoints or dismisses the Knight-Commander…"
"He will be as soon as the Synod meets, and then he can tell the Grand Cleric to replace her. You do like to overcomplicate things, Tusket!" She stood up and smoothed down her skirts "At least you've seen me in my wedding dress… I ought to go and take it off before it gets creased…"
"And you do look beautiful" Marcus stood and kissed her on both cheeks "Everyone in Kirkwall will be seething with jealousy, even that old trout of a Knight-Commander"
Blowing a kiss to Ser Aidhan, who deftly caught it in his fist, Alysanne danced from the room followed by her maids. Marcus collapsed back on the couch with a sigh…
He should be happy for her marriage; Philip Redbank was an agreeable enough chap and it was an astute political move. Even Knight-Commander Meredith couldn't stop the Synod of Nobles from assembling indefinitely and, when they did, the election of Julius Redbank was little more than a matter of form. But Kirkwall was still recovering from the Qunari assault a couple of years ago and had seen two ruling families fall in the past twenty years. The city had a grim reputation, and even Sunny's bright demeanour might be dimmed by it…
"She'll be fine" Aidhan assured Marcus, slipping an arm round his shoulder and kissing him "Under all the frills and glitter she's tough, like all you Trevelyans…"
"You should know, I'm still aching from that last sparring session" Marcus grinned "Anyway, how are you going to punish me for being a beast to my big sister?"
Aidhan chuckled lewdly and pulled a slim book, bound in beige leather, out from under the cushions. Marcus took it and laughed out loud as he read the title page
"Bound for Love; Restrained Tales for the Liberated of Spirit…? Where did you…?"
Aidhan nuzzled Marcus's neck with his lips
"Look at the illustration on page 26…"
Marcus turned to the page in question
"Makers Breath! How flexible do you think I am?"
9:41 Dragon, early in Frumentum (Harvestmere) City of Kirkwall
Prince Sebastian was bluffing; that was clear from the reports of Leliana's agents. He lacked the men and resources to mount a sustained occupation of Kirkwall City, let alone a complete annexation of the Viscounty. Over half of his army consisted of mercenary companies he couldn't afford to pay much longer, Starkhaven's treasury was depleted after years of misrule, and his supply lines ran through miles of hostile territory. Thanks to the assistance of certain specialist agents, those supply lines would be experiencing extra difficulties. If he didn't withdraw soon, the new Prince of Starkhaven would find himself stuck without adequate supplies or the troops to fight his way out.
Commander Aveline was appreciative. With the Provisional Viscount a mere placeholder, she was the real authority in Kirkwall and, unlike Sebastian, quick to realise that Inquisition intelligence was of greater value than Inquisition swords. It was encouraging, but the Prince could still do a lot of damage with the forces at his disposal if he wasn't dealt with.
Even if they knew where Anders was, handing him over wasn't an option; Hawke was likely to disembowel the first person to suggest that anyway. Any judgement of the apostate was a matter for Kirkwall to deal with and not to be surrendered to another state over a matter of personal vengeance. Had Sebastian paid the Crows a wagon-load of gold to kill Anders, or kidnap him and take him to Starkhaven, that would be different; if he couldn't afford the price, given the perilous state of his privy purse, the Trevelyans would happily have called in a few favours with their Antivan cousins to come to an 'arrangement'. The Prince was too honourable and pious for such an underhanded course of action though; he would rather threaten an already stricken city with massacre.
Johan and Marcus had privately, and reluctantly, agreed that preventing further bloodshed took precedence over avenging their sister. Papa wouldn't be happy but he would understand; Sunny would never have wanted this...
Hawke and Varric disappeared into Lowtown just after sunset. There was no doubt who Hawke was looking for, but Varric was following up on a hunch of Cullen's. The Commander was suspicious of the Templars with Sebastian, chaos in the Free Marches suited Corypheus's goals as much as chaos in Orlais, and the Dwarf was tracking down some of his 'business' contacts to see if there had been any shipments of Red Lyrium to, or in, Starkhaven during the past months.
Marcus had retreated to the chambers assigned to him to clear his head and review the most recent reports, looking for anything that would give them an added edge, but the words jumbled into meaningless blurs. He wanted to go and find Cullen, but the Commander was 'reviewing the Keep's defences.' That meant he would be pacing the battlements in solitude, fighting the storm in his head, and wouldn't welcome company until he felt ready.
"How do they get the flowers into the glass?"
Cole sat on the edge of the desk with a paperweight in his hands, turning it in the candlelight. A posy of summer daisies embedded in a crystal globe. The guest apartments at the Keep were full of such chintzy bric-a-brac, presumably the legacy of some previous Viscount's Consort. Marcus had been aware of the boy's presence for some time, Cole was getting better at not startling people...
"I really don't know..." Marcus sat back, glad of the distraction "Some special method I suppose..."
"It shines..." Cole giggled, as the striations in the glass refracted the light "Like the crystals on her dress as she danced around the drawing room..."
"Cole..." Marcus spoke softly but emphatically "Please stay out of my head just now."
"I'm sorry..." Cole put the paperweight back on the desk, eyes apologetically downcast "But sometimes thoughts are so loud they come out of your head and stand beside you..."
Coles expression brightened, as it always did when he saw a way to help
"Like she is right now. Sunny wants you to be happy when you remember her. It makes her sad when you cry..."
"Cole, are you..." Marcus hesitated, the boy and his abilities were a mystery even to Solas; none of them were entirely sure what he could or couldn't do "Are you able to speak to Sunn... To Alysanne?"
Cole shook his head, it was difficult to make people understand, they thought spirits were like things; single, solid, stable and that people were the same; one thing in one place and nowhere else. Marcus was different, he knew that one thing could also be many things in different places; he wasn't afraid of spirits the way a lot of Circle Mages were. That's why he let Cole stay, he was curious; like Solas… But when the hurt became too much he would forget, and he was hurting a lot here, in this city built of tears; they all were…
"Only to the part of her that's in your head, she's always there; like the man with the dark green eyes" Cole tilted his head with a shy smile "He's happy that you're not alone anymore… but he wishes he could have stopped them hurting you like that…"
"Those… those are just memories, Cole…" Marcus swallowed, feeling the hot sting in his eyes "They're not…"
"They are real!" Cole insisted "They're the part of them that's always alive as long as you remember… and they never stop loving you… Does… that… help?"
Cole's smile became a little anxious, it was always difficult when the hurt and love and hate were so tied together, it wasn't good to pull too hard. Marcus wiped his eyes with the palm of his hand
"Actually, Cole; it does. It helps a lot…"
"I'm glad, I like to help you… you try to help everyone, but no-one ever does anything for you" Cole paused, that wasn't completely true "Except for Cullen… he wishes he could give you more. He doesn't think he can ever be good enough for you…"
"That's not true; he's…" Marcus shook his head and smiled, sometimes it was easy to forget that Cole's words weren't his own thoughts "Cullen is very special to me, Cole, and I want you to keep watch over him while we're here. This isn't a healthy place for him…"
"Cullen doesn't like me very much… when he sees me he thinks about the demons that hurt him" Cole said with an unhappy frown, then smiled again as he hopped off the desk "But he'll kill me if I ever hurt someone and that's good. I don't want to hurt people…"
It was a few minutes before Marcus realised Cole had gone and the voices in his head were his own again. What he'd said had helped; in that strange, roundabout, way the spirit's 'help' often did. The idea that the people he'd lost were still there in some way, surviving through his memory, not just Sunny and Aidh, but Lydia, Durward and Alistair as well; it couldn't take away the pain of absence, but it became more bearable
Maker! How did my life become like this?
A maid knocked softly at the door as she pushed it open, moving quickly over to the desk in that strange little half-run that was the hallmark of the servant class here; in Ostwick they called it the 'Kirkwall Trot'. She placed a tray with a bottle and glass down beside him and Marcus was about to thank her when he remembered he hadn't asked for wine. His eye was caught by something on the tray; instead of the usual crisp, white, napkin, the glass rested on a scrap of torn cloth… red cloth.
He looked up with a questioning expression and the maid, a pretty girl with dark Rivaini features, smiled back at him.
"The Friends have a message for you, milord, but not here…"
###
Cullen found the solitude he was looking for on the South Tower of the Keep. As some point in the past a roof-garden had been laid out there, a place for the ruling family to relax far above the noise and stench of the city. It hadn't been tended to for some time, probably not since the Arishok dragged Viscount Dumar from his throne and beheaded him in front of his terrified courtiers; weeds sprouted through the gravel and the ornamental lemon-trees in their urns were ragged and drooping. It was a clear night, neither moon had risen and the sky was full of stars, only a few lights glimmered in the city below. In the darkness, when you couldn't see the damage, it was an almost pleasant view. The Gallows could just be made out as a darker shadow in the harbour; it might have been his imagination, but if you looked closely enough there seemed to be a reddish aura hanging over it. Aveline had happily accepted Marcus's offer of Inquisition battle-mages to scour the place clean with magefire.
He leaned on the battlements and sighed. Cullen had never considered himself a sociable man; even as a novice he'd been shy and withdrawn around the others. Only Alistair, the perpetual joker, could pull him out of his shell and encourage a bit of mischief.
Andraste, carry him to the Maker's side… bring him the peace he could never find in life
After Ferelden, he'd withdrawn even more; surrounding himself with a cold, hard, shell that kept everyone at a distance. Cassandra had cracked it a little, as she helped him with the first agonising stages of Lyrium withdrawal, then Marcus had worked his way through and given him a reason to keep fighting. Being with the Inquisition was totally different to anything he had experienced with the Templars. It felt strange, even a bit unnatural the way people in Skyhold were determined to like him; Blackwall and Bull nagging him into sharing a beer at the Herald, even Josephine's invitations to those damnable tea-parties she kept throwing.
It was kind but he was happiest when it was just him, Marcus and a couple of bottles of wine. Sometimes Cassandra would join them for the first glass or two, Marcus teasing her about whatever trashy romance she was currently engrossed in, always withdrawing with a discrete excuse when the second bottle was uncorked. He liked Marcus's easy sociability even though it he could never share it, but until they came back here he hadn't realised how much he'd grown used to people actually smiling when they saw him.
Kirkwall greeted the former Knight-Captain with cold, suspicious, stares. Watch-Commander Aveline had been quite proper and professional in her manner but he'd seen the look in her eyes. Cullen Rutherford was a walking reminder of what had led to the ruin and disorder the city now struggled to cope with; only Sebastian Vael was a less popular visitor, and not by a great margin. Memories of Meredith's rule over the City were still fresh and raw, and Cullen had been the embodiment of the Knight-Commander's will…
He turned, tensing at the sound of footsteps on the gravel; then relaxed when he saw it was Ser Noah. The man had been one of his immediate juniors in the Commandery; Cullen was glad he'd joined the Watch, not gone off with the others, Noah was a good, competent officer.
"Ser Noah, I…"
The ferocity of the punch took Cullen by surprise. He dropped to his knees; winded and struggling for breath.
"That's for leaving us behind, Knight-Captain, for the ones that went to the Red." Ser Noah stared down at him with contempt "Here's a little something in case you feel the need. Don't outstay your welcome…"
He was gone by the time Cullen got to his feet, the only evidence of his presence a vial of Lyrium on the battlements.
###
"Straight up the stairs, milord, the door at the top. I'll be waiting for you in the tavern when you leave."
They were near the docks, Marcus could smell the tar and rotting rope, in a festering slum that only a Friend of Red Jenny could have safely guided him through. The stairs were narrow, uneven, and slick with damp; while those inhabitants of the tenement that poked their heads out eyed him with suspicion. Even in this dun-coloured cloak, and the leather tunic and breeches of a workman, he stank of wealth. It was madness to have come down here alone, without alerting anyone, but the Jennys had proven reliable, if eccentric, allies so far. He'd given orders that he was resting, and not to be disturbed, so that should buy him a couple of hours. Maker help him if Cullen found out about this!
He knocked softly on the door at the top of the stairs; three, then two, then three
"Please, come in" A man's voice, quiet, dry and hoarse.
The room was right under the eaves, low and cramped, furnished only with a bed, table and stool. A lean, haggard man sat at the table with a book in front of him; thinning blond hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Thank you for coming, Lord Trevelyan. I wanted…."
"You!" Marcus breath quickened, eyes flaring with rage; no doubt in his mind about the identity of this man "You fucking…"
He leapt forward, flames curling around his fingers. Anders raised his hand and Marcus felt himself slowing, like he was wading through syrup; life ebbing out of him, darkness sweeping up from his feet as the last thing he saw was the apostate's eyes glowing pure white…
###
"You... You should have killed me while you had the chance" Marcus croaked. The ropes around his wrist were tight enough to restrain, without cutting off circulation; the other Mage had judged it well, it would be hours before he regained sufficient mana to conjure more than a few sparks "Or did you have something else in mind? Will Hawke be showing up to give his blades some exercise?"
Ander moved his stool closer to the bed and hauled Marcus into a sitting position. It was foolish to think Trevelyan wouldn't have guessed who he was the moment he came in, but there had been little time to prepare for this meeting. A Life Drain was risky but he had enough practise by now, and it would prevent this headstrong young Lord from doing anything foolish before he had the chance to explain.
"I don't think it will take Hawke long to find me, I left him enough clues..." He settled down on the stool and poured a cup of wine "But I don't want to kill you or hurt you, Trevelyan. I just wanted to talk..."
"You murdered my sister, vahshlitt!" Marcus hissed, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining has he struggled with his bonds, only Tevene had words strong enough to convey his contempt "There's nothing I want to say to you…"
"Your sister?" Anders frowned, looking confused, thinking aloud "Oh… yes… Redbank's son married a girl from Ostwick…"
"She wasn't a 'Girl from Ostwick'" Marcus yelled, red with rage; then his voice cracked and he appeared to collapse in on himself "She… she was… she was Sunny…"
Sunny? Anders almost laughed out loud despite the young man's furious anguish. These nobles, and the childish nicknames they clung on to through the years! Living a perpetual adolescence of parties and hunts broken only by the occasional game of politics or war, shaking their heads at the excesses of their watchdogs but doing nothing to rein them in.
"She was innocent… she…"
"Kirkwall is built with the blood of the innocent" Anders couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice "Innocent lives were taken before I destroyed the Grand Chantry and innocent lives were taken after. One or a thousand, it's still a crime; but sad amber eyes appear to be all it takes to buy the Lord Trevelyan's forgiveness…"
"Don't you dare…" Marcus barked, "Don't you fucking dare…"
"We're all hypocrites, Trevelyan, I'm not judging you…" Anders shook his head with a faint smile "Sometimes I think blowing up the Chantry was the only honest thing I've ever done…"
"Honest…?" Marcus stared at him with loathing "How can you even…?"
"I asked myself why so many times; to end the chance of compromise, to force the Mages into action, to show the world what the Templars and the Chantry truly were… In the end, though, I just wanted to make them pay…"
"Your insane… you're fucking insane!" Marcus snarled, "Pay for what…?"
"For doing nothing…!" Anders snapped back. The Gallows sat in the middle of the harbour on its great black rock, visible from every part of the city; every day anyone who bothered to notice it would shake their head, mutter about what a terrible place it was, and go about their business… everyone knew what happened there, what was done there, and they did nothing… it was only Mages after all… How could he make this man even begin to understand…?
"Do you sometimes have difficulty with bowel movements?" He asked suddenly "Blood… pain… that sort of thing?"
Marcus looked at him in astonishment; the man was a lunatic, ranting about the Gallows one minute and then shifting to a question about his bowels; like he was a patient…
"What… why would you even?"
"When I was checking I hadn't excessively drained your life-energy, I detected scar tissue in your anal canal…" Anders slipped effortlessly into his 'clinic voice'; calm, measured and gentle "Bleeding and discomfort aren't uncommon in these cases…."
"That's…" Marcus cleared his throat, steadying his voice "That's none of your business…"
"I'll take that as a yes…" Anders stood, with a dry smile and walked over to the table where he scribbled something on a piece of paper.
"Any good apothecary will be able to make this up, rinse yourself out with it, using tepid water, every morning before your bath…" he came back over and tucked the folded paper into Marcus's tunic "That will ease it a bit. There's bound to be a few spirit healers among the Mages with the Inquisition; after a month of this, one of them should be able to do something about the worst of the scarring. It'll never go away completely I'm afraid; if it had been treated at the time..."
He sat back down, regarding the young Mage with a curiously sympathetic expression.
"Why are you doing this…?" Bewilderment at this sudden change in Anders had briefly overtaken Marcus's anger and hatred. The older man shrugged
"I'm still a healer. I've treated a lot of injuries like that and I know what causes them" He paused, looking down at the floor "Did it happen after the Circle fell?"
No need to rush, lads, you'll all get a go…
…always wanted to shove it up this posh wanker…
What's the matter, Trevelyan? Thought you liked a bit of Templar cock?
Marcus nodded silently, shaking at the memory. Anders placed a hand on his shoulder
"It's a terrible, humiliating, violation. I assume you were too ashamed to tell your parents, which is why it didn't get treated?"
Marcus nodded again, fear and anxiety twisting around the shame and anger; this insane abomination was getting inside his head, touching at his worst memories – things he'd barely been able to tell Cullen. Was this what had happened to Cullen at Kinloch Hold? Was Anders going to submit him to the same ordeal and would he be able to survive it?
"I'm sorry you had to endure that, I truly am…" Anders sighed, a look of deep sadness and pain in his eyes "But think what it would be like to live in fear of that every day…"
…Never knowing when some bored Templar was going to grab you by the arm and drag you into a quiet corner, threatening with accusations of blood magic or demon-summoning if you didn't do what he wanted. On a lucky day, he might just be after a quick blow-job; if he was in a bad mood you'd be limping for days afterwards… Going to bed at night, hoping none of them would decide to drop by for a 'visit'. Mages from families with money or influence were safe; even if you only had a family who cared enough to keep contact with you, or were friends with the right people in the Circle you didn't have to worry. For the poor, shunned, friendless ones, it happened everywhere…
"No!" Marcus shook his head, emphatically "Not everywhere, not…"
"Everywhere" Anders repeated "In the better-run Circles they were just more cautious, made sure it never got to the ears of the Knight Commander or the Revered Mother; stuck with the ones they could scare into silence… or the Tranquil. The Tranquil might not feel desire or emotion, but they still feel pain…"
Anders paused and looked the younger man in the eyes
"The men who raped you, it wouldn't have been the first time they did something like that… and sometimes the nicest ones turn out to be the worst. My first night in a Circle, a Templar came into my room; smiling and being friendly. He was still smiling and being friendly later when I was crying in the corner and he was wiping my blood off his prick…"
…In the Gallows, they didn't have to be cautious; once they even paraded some of their Tranquil 'pets' in front of the other Mages to intimidate them into submission. The bad ones took full advantage to indulge themselves; the good ones, those that were left, kept an ashamed silence for fear of ending up like Ralegh Sampson. The worst ones? They knew what was happening and ignored it; called it lies – the Mages were just trying to win a bit of sympathy, to discredit Knight Commander Meredith's 'righteous regime'
"…and everyone knew; why do you think the lords and ladies of Hightown sent their Mage children to Ostwick or Markham? They knew and they didn't care enough to do anything!" Anders fought to keep his voice from rising "Bethany Hawke begged Garrett to take her to the Deep Roads with him. She was so afraid of going to the Gallows she would rather face the risk of Darkspawn…. I wanted… I…"
"And that's why you killed hundreds, plunged us into a war we didn't want?" Marcus had found his voice again, and his anger "You wanted to punish….?"
"I wanted it to stop!" Anders yelled "Eight hundred years of imprisonment, humiliation and rape; men women and… and children degraded and abused because of the way they were born. What fucking chance did compromise have in the face of the Lamberts and the Merediths? I wanted the whole rotten thing torn down so we could at least have a chance of building something new…"
Anders paused for breath, tears streaming down his face
"I'm sorry about your sister… I'm sorry about every sister and brother and son and daughter; but I can't be sorry for doing it, not after everything we've suffered. And I'm sorry I brought more misery by coming back… I just wanted them to stop"
The man was mad; whether from the struggle with the spirit possessing him or the years of suffering he'd seen and endured. What frightened Marcus, sickened him, was the way his insanity made sense. If even part of what he said was true… then… then a whole swathe of his beliefs was founded on a… He couldn't even begin to think it.
"I… I was meant to be a Templar…" he stammered, trying to find some defence of an institution he still wanted to believe in, to respect "I would never…"
"No, you would never… You would have been one of the Best, I'm sure" Anders smiled, wavering between sincerity and sarcasm "Good looking, honourable, the cachet of a grand noble name; you would have been Knight-Commander by the time you were thirty, the Glory of the Order, and the bad ones would have to be very careful to hide their trespasses from Lord Knight-Commander Trevelyan's eagle eye. Everyone would have pointed at you and said 'Look, the system works after all…'"
Anders stopped; he'd already turned this boy's world inside out and upside down, dragged him into the mess of Kirkwall, tricked him into meeting the man responsible for the death of his sister and infant nephew… that hadn't been his plan. He couldn't think clearly any more, couldn't tell what was him and what was Justice or Vengeance. He had to focus before it became any louder…
"I'm sorry, Trevelyan, you are a good man and you bear too heavy a burden for someone so young. All I wanted to do was to come to Kirkwall one last time and say goodbye…"
"Why?" Something about the way Anders said it sparked Marcus's curiosity; even a faint thread of sympathy for the things that had made this man believe he had to commit a monstrous act…
"That's… why I wanted to talk to you" Anders leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees "If I could claim a little more of your time…"
In Part 3
What was important enough for Anders to risk returning to Kirkwall?
Hawke's sudden arrival puts Marcus's life in danger and painful choices must be made