Notes: Song inspiration is "Holy Diver" by Dio.

A special note regarding this chapter. Some of you are probably going to side-eye, at a minimum, at what I set in motion here, because it's a very edgy thing to do in the game and—in the game—isn't obviously a pro-mage action (though it's not anti-mage, either). Please give it a chance to pan out thoroughly (and I mean that; this story will be over 800,000 words), and know this: I'm not going to bait-and-switch on the story's overarching viewpoint concerning mage rights. I'm just making some leaps of inference for an AU, developing some supporting characters who are not developed enough beyond the very limited story arc they're used for in the game.

For readers' ease, know that I'm using specific capitalization conventions: "Qunari" for "one who follows the Qun," and "qunari" for the (usually) horned northern race.

Chapter 19: The Eyes of a Cat in the Black and Blue

The very next day, Caitlyn returned to the mine owner, accepting the task to investigate the missing miners—and almost wished she had not, once she arrived at the place. The crew had been attacked by dragons, all of which had to be killed. One dragon in particular was quite powerful, and although Caitlyn went out with Varric, Carver, and—thinking it advisable to put the past behind her, since she and Anders were thoroughly reconciled—Isabela, this dragon targeted Caitlyn specifically once she began to cast frost spells at it, identifying her as the greatest threat to itself. The dragon was correct, as she was indeed the one to cast the killing blow against it. However, there would be no salvaging these badly singed robes. She was just glad that she had covered her head with a runed cap, or else she might have lost some of her hair too.

Nonetheless, after slaying the dragons—and skinning them, where possible, to have valuable dragon hide and other body parts—she managed to shame the survivors into going back to work, and, more importantly, got what she was hoping for from the owner: a part-ownership. Anders is going to be furious when he sees these burns, she thought, trying not to pop a large red blister on her thigh that was visible through the burn hole in her robe. He is going to be utterly furious that I risked myself fighting dragons when the Deep Roads expedition is already funded. I will just have to convince him that the ownership share and the dragon hide made it worth it. And it's not too shabby to be a dragonslayer, after all! How many people can say that?

When the group returned to the city, Varric and Isabela departed for the Hanged Man. Caitlyn headed toward Darktown, accompanied by her brother—who, to do him justice, did have a lot of family feeling and was making a point of visiting his nephew. She approved of that and was glad that he didn't hold it against her that she had stormed out of Uncle Gamlen's house, as their mother seemed to. She hadn't paid her daughter or grandson a visit in the days since they had left. Caitlyn tried to suppress her resentment of her mother's behavior as they approached the clinic.

Anders opened the door and then gawked at Caitlyn and Carver in shock. "What in the utter Void happened to you?" he exclaimed, ushering them in. Carver also sported a mild burn, but Caitlyn had been clobbered. As he ushered her onto a patient bed, shaking his head, she noticed that Mal too was shocked at his mother's battered appearance.

She braced herself for the explosion. "Good news first: I am now a part-owner of the Bone Pit Mine," she told him.

He examined the robes to determine that they were not melted or charred into her flesh, then gently began to tear the shreds of fabric away, professionally unconcerned that her brother could see her smalls now. "At a heavy price! What was going on there?" he exclaimed, reaching for burn salve to apply to the bad blister on her thigh.

"Dragons," she said.

Mal gasped, awed by his mother. His only experience with a dragon, she recalled, was the dragon form of Flemeth. Anders stopped rubbing the ointment on her and gazed up sharply. "Dragons, more than one?" He gazed at Carver, identifying the blister he sported, but it was obvious that she had taken the brunt of the dragonfire. "Did you slay them all by yourself? It looks like it. Who else was with you?" At this, Carver scowled heavily at the Healer.

"I did not slay them all by myself," she said. "There were many dragonlings and three big ones, including one fully grown. Carver, Varric, and Isabela all killed dragonlings and helped with the others. Yes, I did take down the biggest one—and it wouldn't hurt you to offer congratulations instead of scolding, you know."

Anders looked down and resumed his healing work, suddenly aware of his reaction and embarrassed about it. "I'm proud of you," he said at once, meaning it. "It's quite an accomplishment! I don't mean to detract from that. I've slain some too, with help of course, and I just remember how hard it was... and Maker, it looks like it got you right across the midsection."

"It did," she said grimly. "But I won in the end." She smiled weakly at him as he cast a powerful blast of healing magic, one so strong that it actually caught Carver in its aura, healing his minor burn. Anders' eyes turned bluish-white. That must be a Spirit Healing spell, she thought, enhanced by Justice.

Anders heaved his breath as his eyes returned to normal. "Yes," he said, steadying himself. "I don't mean to... it's not that I don't think you can handle yourself... Maker, I just worry about you, love, and then you come in with your robes half burned off, telling me about dragonslaying!" He managed a chuckle, but a grimace still filled his face.

"Well," she said, taking his hand and rubbing circles on the back of it, "the good news is that the dragons were the reason why the miners weren't working. Now that the dragons are gone, they're back to work, turning a profit—which I will share from now on. A reliable income that doesn't depend on fighting street gangs!"

He sighed, rubbing tension out of his forehead. "That's a good thing, then. You know... if the expedition doesn't work out... we could probably save enough coin from this and my Warden stipend to get a place of our own in Lowtown eventually."

Caitlyn smiled sadly at him. "That's a sweet idea, Anders, but we wouldn't be able to achieve our other goal if we did that."

He returned a sad smile of his own. "I know. And I know that's our responsibility, if possible."

Carver cleared his throat, not wanting to talk about this "other goal," which he knew meant working for mage rights. In his view, his sister was just endangering herself if she did that... but ultimately, he supposed, it was her decision. "In addition to the mine share, we have the hide, horn, and other parts," he put in, thumping the pack on his back. "All of us got some of that. I'm having mine turned into better armor."

"Hmm," Anders mused, eyeing the pack that Caitlyn had set down at the door. "Some dragon components are useful for healing."

"You're welcome to anything that you can use," she said.

Mal climbed down from his bed and crept toward his mother's pack, staring at it in awe, then looked up at her with wide eyes. "Was the big one the dragon we saw in Ferelden? The one that turned into the witch lady that brought us to the ships?" he asked innocently.

She shook her head, opening her arms to him. He climbed into her arms, hugging her, glad to have her home, as she replied. "No, darling," she said. "That was a mage who could change her shape into a dragon. The one I killed today was a real dragon that hatched out of a dragon egg."

"She said that she might really be a dragon," Mal said.

Caitlyn was shocked that he remembered that so well; she had almost forgotten that particular comment of Flemeth's herself—but then, that would be a trauma seared into the poor little boy's mind, and he was highly intelligent, after all. "Oh, Mal," she said soothingly, "she was just trying to scare us. She helped us, but she wasn't a very nice person. She didn't save Aunt Bethany, after all. That's why she said it. It's all right, anyway. I won't be fighting any more dragons." Let's hope, she added to herself in thought.

"I should go," Carver remarked, feeling out of place. "Thanks for the healing, Anders. That's a powerful spell."

"Uncle Carver," Mal spoke up, gazing at him. "Doesn't Grandma want to see us anymore?"

Carver grimaced. "I'll talk to your grandmother."

"Is she angry at us?"

"Not you," he assured the child. "And not your father."

"But she is angry at Mamma," Mal guessed. Holding him, Caitlyn scowled.

Carver sighed. "She isn't happy with your mother. She's wrong, though. I'll try to make her understand that."

"Carver," Caitlyn spoke up, "she has to realize, what she was asking of me was unreasonable."

"I agree. But you know how she is." He glowered at the floor again. "At least you had an alternate place to live and means of support. I don't know how in the Void I'm ever going to..." He trailed off, sighing. "Not your problem. Later, sis."

Once he was gone, Anders came over, sitting down next to them and draping an arm across Caitlyn's shoulders. "I really am proud of you," he said again. "I mean that. But I'm also worried. I really think you should learn at least the basic healing spell, just in case anything like this ever happens again and I'm not with you at the time. It's better than taking potions; it actually knits injuries back together."

Caitlyn considered that before nodding. "You're probably right," she said. "Let's start that tomorrow."

The next day was a slow day for patients, which was a relief to the little family, as they finally were able to take care of some domestic matters that they had postponed. Anders and Caitlyn managed to knock a second nook into the wall, opening up a room for Mal, and slid his bed and possessions into it to make it homelike. He was pleased, celebrating having a room of his own by playing with the dog and basically making a pest of himself whenever a patient did come to the door. Fortunately the patients were not too sick or injured today, and found the Grey Warden Healer's little son to be cute, but Anders lost his patience after Mal spilled a jar of elfroot balm that he was not supposed to touch.

"I want to be a Healer," the child muttered in complaint as Anders finally lifted him up and set him down on his bed.

"Maybe someday you can be," Anders replied, "but what you need most right now is a nap."

Mal pouted. "I'm not sleepy at all! I want to play with Baldwin." The mabari let out a bark of approval, wagging his tail.

Caitlyn scowled. "Whose side are you on?" she scolded her dog. The mabari whimpered, tucking his tail between his legs, and hung his head.

"He's on the side of the one who wants to play with him," Anders replied. "A cat, now..."

"A cat would be on the side of the one who fed him," Caitlyn said.

"I want to play, and he wants me to," Mal continued. "You're just being mean, both of you. I'm not sleepy." He yawned, making his parents grin wryly.

"Yes, you are," Caitlyn replied as he closed his mouth. She raised her hand and cast a gentle sleep spell, not strong enough to knock him out immediately, but definitely enough to make him settle on his pillow and close his eyes of his own accord.

Anders collapsed on a stiff chair. "Maker's breath," he exclaimed, gazing at her. "I haven't wanted to tell you this, but those times you've left him with me... I don't know how you did it alone for three years."

She smirked. "Maybe I'm just better at it."

"Hmph." He smiled. "I can't argue with that. Now... the healing spell?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Tell me everything you know, Healer."

"Everything?" he teased.

"Everything that's necessary to do this spell," she amended.

"Well," he said, smiling, "first of all, the spell to heal injuries to the flesh is, in many ways, more the direct opposite of nature damage than entropic decay, which you do well, so..." He trailed off, giving her an overview of creation magic theory before casting the basic spell itself for her to sense through her connection the Fade.

They were interrupted a couple of times, but by the end of the day, Caitlyn was able to cast it. It was nothing like the healing that he could do, but then, he had practiced this magic for years, understood anatomy and physiology in depth as well as specific spells to target body parts and processes, and had the assistance of a Fade spirit. What mattered was that she would not be wholly dependent anymore on a stock of potions when she was hurt and he was not there.

Later that day, Carver returned to the clinic with news that surprised everyone there: Leandra was inviting them to dinner at the house in Lowtown, and Uncle Gamlen would not be there to spoil the proceedings. She understood that they would return home afterward, Carver asserted—but she did want to see them.

"What do you think?" Anders asked. "She's your mother."

Caitlyn considered briefly before nodding. "I'd better accept this invitation. If she misled Carver about expecting us to stay—or changes her mind once we get there—then I'll deal with her. I also think she needs to deal with her unreasonable fears and visit us. But perhaps this is a start."

"So," she said once she was at the house with her family, "where is Uncle Gamlen tonight? Or do I want to know?"

"He is at the docks," she replied. "He got a job unloading cargo."

"Smuggling," Carver muttered.

"Hmph," Caitlyn said, surprised. She had honestly expected her mother to say that he was at a bar, a gambling house, or a brothel. "I suppose that's a good thing. He has to pay for his own habits now, after all. But... let's not talk about him."

"Have you been safe in that place?" Leandra asked her daughter worriedly.

Caitlyn scowled. "Mother, 'that place' is where Anders has lived ever since he came here. You are insulting him every time you talk about it that way."

She blanched. "I don't mean that! You aren't offended, are you, Anders dear?"

He immediately drew back, not wanting to be in the middle of this. Caitlyn continued mercilessly. "He's too nice to say it, Mother, but it's true. You insult his home. And no, we have not been attacked. Nobody has threatened us at all. It's been peaceful and pleasant—and you have to accept that we are a couple, just like you and Father were. We need our privacy, and since Anders does have a home of his own, it's only logical that we should be there instead of here."

"But the house in Hightown—you mean you won't be joining us there?" she cried.

"That house is big enough that we can all have private rooms. That's different."

She closed her eyes, sighing. "I just worry every morning, knowing that you, Anders, and Mal are there. It's Darktown, Cait."

"But Anders' clinic is magically protected. We are safer than probably anyone in Darktown and most people in Lowtown."

Leandra heaved a huge sigh, but it was one of resignation. "Very well. But it is a mother's job to worry. You will understand once Mal is older."

"I understand now," she replied sharply, "but that doesn't change the fact that he and I are both safer in Anders' clinic than here, for several reasons. Uncle Gamlen's associates are shifty, Mother. They are more likely to menace us than anyone who comes into the clinic... or blackmail him, or decide to make a quick sovereign by turning in a mage! We're even safer from Templars there. If we are there, it means Anders is there too, and we could fight them off more easily if they showed up—or Anders could even invoke his Grey Warden status to protect us." She decided not to tell her mother what Anders really meant to do with his Grey Warden status if it came to that.

She nodded, finally accepting her daughter's words. "Very well," she said. "You make sense."

Anders stepped forward, placing a hand around Caitlyn's waist. "We're safer together, Mistress Hawke. I would protect Cait and Mal with my life."

"Of course," she said. "I never doubted that, dear."

"I'm glad we've come to this understanding, then," Caitlyn said sincerely. "My decision is made, Mother. I wish you would visit us yourself and see how it is."

"Perhaps," she said uncertainly. "Perhaps if Carver would escort me there..."

Carver sighed and rolled his eyes, but he seemed to have expected that.

As the small family and dog stepped out into the crisp night, Anders tensed. He stared across the alleyway. "There is a Chantry sister at that house," he said in a hard voice. "She's staring at us."

Caitlyn looked up. The person she had formerly taken to be a neighbor dressed in red—the one she had mistaken for a Templar weeks ago—was actually wearing full Chantry robes now. Was this a real neighbor at all? Wouldn't Chantry priests and sisters live at the cathedral? Or is it a criminal posing as a sister? she wondered. She felt queasy at the realization that her mage's staff was strapped to her back and projected past her head, obviously identifiable as a staff. Would the woman try to take her away?

Well, best to have it out right now, if that was what the woman intended. She strode across the alley. "Can I help you?" she said coolly.

The sister—if she truly was that—was fairly young. Her blonde hair was streaked with silver, but her skin was smooth. "I have watched you for some time," she said, her voice shrewd and clever. "Until, of course, you and your child left this house a few days ago."

Caitlyn gazed hard at the woman. "Indeed. And why have you done that? What is your interest in me?"

"Nothing... untoward," the woman replied. Her sharp gaze flickered to the mage's staff and back down to Caitlyn's face. "My bodyguard and I are in need of special assistance, and your reputation precedes you."

"Does it. My reputation as what, exactly?" Behind her, Anders was edging forward, having urged Carver to take Mal back inside the house.

The—sister?—examined him, her eyebrows momentarily knitting together, but her face smoothed out quickly. "You are known in certain quarters for your work in the smuggling business," she said, "and yes, I see that you have... additional abilities."

At that, Anders reached for his staff. "If you mean to threaten her, you're picking a fight with the wrong people."

The sister drew back. "I'm doing nothing of the sort, Grey Warden," she said sharply. "Yes, I know who you are too. I assure you, I am not an enemy of mages. In fact, I thought to ask your assistance in helping a mage escape to safety."

Anders was suddenly shocked. Whatever he had expected, that had not been it. Caitlyn considered before responding. "Are you really a Chantry sister?" she asked. "If so, what are you doing here?"

"Yes, I am a Chantry sister," the woman replied. "My name is Petrice Durand—Sister Petrice—and the reason I am here, in this safe house, is because the nature of my present task of charity is... rather dangerous to certain elements in this city."

"The Knight-Commander?" Anders ventured, still in shock, but able to speak now.

"The Knight-Commander and more," Sister Petrice said. "I am sure that you have not failed to notice that..." She glanced around sharply, making sure that no one else was listening in the neighborhood. "...That the Knight-Commander, Viscount, and Grand Cleric are allowing a contingent of Qunari warriors, led by their military commander, to occupy a well-placed and very defensible building in the shipping district of Kirkwall, with barely an attempt to find out what they intend or hurry them back home!"

"Yes," Caitlyn said tightly, "I have noticed that. I suppose you have some insight into this?"

"Other than that they are all fools?" Petrice said. "No, I'm afraid I don't. There are many who choose to turn a blind eye to certain things that the oxmen do. I, for my part, cannot."

Caitlyn recalled what she had learned of the Qun from her own reading and from conversations with Fenris, who had lived among them briefly and knew a great deal about them due to his status as a former Tevinter slave. "I certainly know what they do to women, their prohibition on families and romantic couples, and, of course, what they do to mages," she said. She remembered what the sister had said. "You mentioned helping a mage escape. Are you saying that you have a—"

"Hush!" Petrice exclaimed, eyes wide. "People may be listening! They have sympathizers, you know, who are afraid to speak openly of their treasonous loyalties. But—yes. He is inside the house." She considered. "I have named him Ketojan. He has been treated very cruelly by his own people—but this mage will be a fine example of how cruel they are, even to their own."

"And you want me to help him escape."

"Yes," Petrice said. "Please, come inside and meet him."

Anders and Caitlyn followed her inside the small house, remaining on their guard, all the more so when they saw a Templar standing guard by the chained, silent qunari mage. Anders was appalled at the sight of the mage, his horns cut off, the collar still around his neck. Caitlyn guessed that this shocking sight was all that kept him from exploding at the Templar.

"Look at this," the sister said, gesturing. "Would even a Templar bind a mage like this?"

Caitlyn raised her eyebrows at the fact that she would say that with a Templar present.

"Some might," Anders growled, glaring at the Templar. "That one—"

"This is my bodyguard, Ser Varnell," Petrice said.

Anders' attention was finally distracted from the qunari. "I suppose, since you are a part of this, that you are not one of Meredith's cronies," he said, lips curling faintly.

Caitlyn groaned inwardly at his bluntness, but the man did not seem offended. "If I wanted to hunt mages in Kirkwall, it wouldn't be that difficult, would it?"

"I... suppose it wouldn't." He was rather awed at the situation, and it was apparent in his face.

"You will take the job, then?" Petrice said urgently.

Caitlyn took a deep breath. Something about this seemed a bit too convenient... but... "Yes," she said. I'll involve the entire team if I can, just in case.

To Caitlyn's astonishment, Anders was delighted. She never would have thought it of him, but perhaps the opportunity to help a mage overwhelmed everything else.

Anders was taking care of Mal while Caitlyn sat in the Hanged Man with the rest of their associates to discuss this scheme. She had convinced everyone to join in except Aveline, who disapproved of Viscount Dumar's blind accommodation of a foreign co-head of state who would not explain what he wanted, but who still felt that her duties as a city guard would not permit her to ethically participate in this. To her surprise, even Fenris had agreed to go along, despite his previous association with the Qunari and his general distrust of mages. Apparently locking them in chains and mutilating them was too far even for him, now that he knew a few mages who were decent.

"Hmm," Varric said, "if she's who she says she is, she has an interesting background. Fallen Orlesian nobility, in fact."

"Interesting indeed," Caitlyn said. "I suppose that might explain why she doesn't have a problem with mages."

Aveline—who was still at the meeting, even though she would not be part of the operation—nodded. "It's true. There are said to be many secret mages among the lesser Orlesian nobility, trained by apostates to control their powers, and of course, the higher nobles often have Court Mages."

"Leliana told me about the Great Game," Caitlyn mused. When everyone at the table except Carver gave her confused glances, she clarified herself. "A former Orlesian bard whom I knew in Ferelden."

"You think this sister might be playing the Game?" Varric guessed.

Caitlyn frowned in contemplation. "I don't know. Something about it bothers me... I can't help but wonder if there is another 'game' going on that I don't know about... and yet, even if she is doing that, it means she's someone to be reckoned with. Someone who is not trying to get ahead by kissing the hem of Meredith Stannard's robes."

Varric raised his eyebrows in respect. "Interesting. You think she has higher ambitions."

Caitlyn decided on her course at that moment. "A former Orlesian noble whose family lost everything, forcing her to join the Chantry to survive? Yes. And so do I. Let's do this."

As the meeting broke apart, with Aveline returning to the Viscount's Keep, she was very glad that Anders had not been here for this. She was a bit surprised at her own degree of calculation in using her friends and even hinting at what she just had, especially since she did anticipate some sort of double-cross, but she had been honest with her friends about her suspicions, and this seemed like an opportunity of the sort that Flemeth herself had hinted at.

In the end, Carver was not part of the attempt to smuggle Ketojan out of Kirkwall. Anders had wanted to go along as soon as Caitlyn had told him what had transpired at the Hanged Man, as well as her own suspicions, and that had left her to bully her brother to take care of her son. He clearly did not like it—not because he disliked the little boy, but because he did not like being made to baby-sit while his older sister took on dangerous tasks. However, he was not about to argue with Anders, and Caitlyn was the one that Sister Petrice had actually hired, so she couldn't back out.

The trap that Caitlyn had suspected became apparent as soon as they emerged from a tunnel to find a band of Qunari seemingly waiting for them, intending to kill all six of the group plus the qunari mage himself—them for being "corrupted" by contact with a loose "saarebas," and Ketojan for being away from his captor for any amount of time.

Anders was utterly disgusted. For a moment he was unable even to respond to the Qunari provocation, but over the next few seconds, that changed. Bluish-white lightning crackled under his skin, his eyes turned the same color, and the blue Fade-fires that Caitlyn had last seen that terrible night in the Kirkwall Chantry flamed across his body as Justice took over.

"You will not touch any of us!" he roared with Justice's voice. The Qunari were startled, and that moment of shock gave the rest of the group an advantage that they kept throughout the fight.

As Caitlyn attacked the qunari mage's keeper, she could not help but notice that—other than Anders, or Justice, whichever of them it was—Isabela was the one of her companions who most enjoyed felling the horned warriors. That was unexpected to her; she had not gotten the impression that the pirate cared about any cause or ideology. She wondered what the story behind this was—but she could not speculate about it in the heat of battle, especially after learning the hard way that qunari were very resistant to her signature spell, fire.

At last they were all dead, however—all except Ketojan. He had become unbound in the battle, able to speak at last. Anders heaved his breath as Justice retreated from his consciousness, horrified, staring at Caitlyn as though ready to kill the qunari if he raised a hand against her—but that did not seem to be the qunari's intent.

"I am unbound," Ketojan said. "It is odd... wrong... but you deserve honor."

Caitlyn shook her head. "It's not wrong. I am a mage too. It doesn't have to be this way for people like us. They brainwashed you... you deserve freedom just as every other innocent person does..."

The qunari shook his head. "You are now Basvaarad, worthy of following. I thank your intent, even if it was wrong."

Caitlyn and Anders tried to stop the qunari, but they could not. With a single spell, he set fire to himself, and there was nothing they could do but watch as he burned to ashes.

The group gathered outside Sister Petrice's house menacingly. Caitlyn slammed the door open hard. The sister and the Templar were packing up, which did not surprise her at all.

"You're alive!" exclaimed Varnell.

Caitlyn stepped inside the house, her staff in hand. "Surprised by that?" she said coolly.

"Did all of these people participate?" Petrice asked, gazing at the unexpectedly large group.

"They did," she replied. Behind her, Anders stepped forward, his staff also in hand, but he was not saying a word. Apparently he meant to let her handle this, which she appreciated. She took a deep breath, closing the door behind her just after he slunk in. It would be clear to the sister and Templar that the rest of the group waited outside, but perhaps they would speak more freely without eavesdroppers. "I brought a large group for a reason. I'm not a fool, Sister Petrice."

Petrice stopped packing abruptly and gestured for Varnell to pause as well. Her eyebrows went up in interest.

"It did seem a little too easy to be true... and then I learned more about your past, playing the Game in Orlais."

Actual respect filled the sister's face at that. It was as Caitlyn had hoped. "Sister, you owe me for this."

Her respect changed to disappointment. "If coin is what you want, then I do have plenty..."

"I'm not interested in your coin," Caitlyn said. "I have bigger goals than a few sovereigns."

Petrice considered her, interest renewed. "Go on."

"You put my life at risk under false pretenses. That I anticipated a trap is beside the point. You owe me as a matter of honor—and it is in your interest not to make an enemy of me," she said fiercely. "You think the Grand Cleric and Viscount are not tough enough on the Qunari? That they are cruel and mean Kirkwall harm, and that the 'powers that be' refuse to see that? You don't have to use me to make that point, sister. We do not disagree about this."

"Some deaths are worth it," she replied.

Caitlyn strode forward, physically menacing the sister as she stood only feet away. "There are other ways to achieve your goals," she hissed. "I am a mage, a woman, a mother, daughter, sister, lover—I would lose everything that I value most, everything that I am, if the Qunari conquered our lands and we lived under the Qun! Our ultimate goals are not in opposition. You do not have to get me killed and use my death. You could have a living ally."

Petrice shook her head sadly. "I understand your point of view, but with all due respect, Hawke, you are an apostate mage and Fereldan refugee, living in Darktown with your lover and illegitimate child. How influential do you truly imagine you can be?"

Caitlyn smiled grimly. "Anders is my child's father, Sister Petrice. We met years ago. And I am also an Amell of Kirkwall. Yes," she said as Petrice's eyebrows flew up, "my mother is Leandra Amell, formerly of Hightown. The one who eloped twenty-four years ago. And I intend to go on an expedition that will enable me to recover the family estate and noble title in less than a fortnight."

Anders shifted uncomfortably behind her, but did not speak. She sensed his disapproval of what she was doing, but she was sure she would be able to convince him later. What mattered now was seeing this conversation through. "We are both against the Qun, sister. For different reasons, we are both sympathetic to mages—and apparently your Templar bodyguard is, too. You should not use and discard me. You have bigger ambitions than to be a mere priest, taking orders from the likes of Grand Cleric Elthina... don't you?"

Petrice was genuinely surprised at Caitlyn's canny, but she did not deny it. "And if I do?" she said. "What are you proposing, Hawke?"

"If all goes as planned, I will be Lady Caitlyn Hawke of Hightown by the end of the year," she said. "Noble patronage would help you quite a lot, wouldn't it? Especially a noble who has numerous connections to Lowtown? To achieve certain... ambitions... you would need support of the nobles and the common people. And also," she added in a sudden flash of inspiration, "I know someone who is close to the Hero of the Blight and a highly placed Orlesian priest named Mother Dorothea."

Anders shuffled his feet again. Caitlyn guessed that he was probably feeling a flash of jealousy at her reference to Leliana, and her suggestion that she would use her previous relationship in such a way... but that was something she could talk to him about as well, later.

"I believe I know of whom you speak," the sister mused, intrigued. "That is impressive indeed. Very well, Serah Hawke—if you achieve your goal, and recover your family estate—"

"And if you become an ordained priest as soon as you would like to?" Caitlyn interjected with false sweetness.

Petrice was not offended by Caitlyn's tone. "Yes," she said with equal sweetness. "In that case... let's talk again."

Anders finally could not stop himself. "Before you shake on this, Caitlyn, there's something I want to know." He eyed the sister and Templar. "She is a mage. So am I. And we have a child."

"And you forgot that we already knew that, Warden Anders?" she said coolly.

"My point is, it doesn't bother you?"

"One way to get ahead as a member of the Chantry in this city is to report mages. I have not done that," she replied. "Some of my brothers and sisters in the Maker have become so obsessed with a nonexistent, or overblown, threat that they have become unable to see real threats. In the country of my birth, it is not unusual for mages to live freely among... certain social strata."

"And I volunteered to serve the sister as her bodyguard instead of chasing down apostates for Meredith," Varnell put in.

Anders sighed heavily, then scowled. "All right. I just want you two to know—I am here on the orders of the Hero of Ferelden, and Caitlyn is with me, and if you turn on her, you'll regret it."

The sister chuckled wryly. "I understand perfectly, Warden."

The large group split up to go their separate ways after Caitlyn and Anders emerged from Petrice's house. They stepped inside the Amell house to pick up Mal and Baldwin first. Caitlyn noticed her brother's extreme dissatisfaction and resentment, and felt bad for a moment... but unless she had badly miscalculated, she had taken an important step tonight toward achieving her ultimate goal of helping mages to live openly, at least in Kirkwall. Anders was equally dissatisfied, she noticed, but that was for a different reason.

He's going to have it out with me when we're home and Mal is in bed, she thought as they headed back to Darktown. I know it's coming and I'd better prepare my arguments.

Late that night, when they were stretched out on the single bed in their smallclothes, he brought up the subject. "Can we... talk about today?" he asked, attempting to be diplomatic.

"What's bothering you, love?"

He sighed. "That sister is... she's dishonorable, Caitlyn. She tried to get you killed. She only decided to 'ally' with you once you told her you had noble blood and a path to reclaim the estate and that Mal wasn't some fatherless 'bastard' who would be a dead weight on her ambitions." He scowled across the blanket. "I don't like her and I'm astonished that you want to work with her. Ser Thrask was one thing; he was actually sincere, but... this?"

"I'm not fond of her personally either," Caitlyn said. "But... I knew what she was likely to be, based on what Aveline and Varric told me. She grew up playing the Game. I was prepared for that. And she does have a point about the Qunari."

"Does she?" he challenged. "Everyone seems to be nervous about them, but what exactly have they done to Kirkwall? They've stayed in their compound, keeping to themselves. I wish the Templars did that much. And the word is that they were shipwrecked. That makes them refugees just like the Fereldans, Caitlyn—just like you."

She could tell that he was being contrarian in part because of his animosity toward the Chantry and the Templars, so she did not become combative in her tone. "They aren't refugees at all," she said. "Yes, they were shipwrecked, apparently... but... how much do you know about the Qun and Qunari culture, Anders?"

"Not a lot," he admitted. "I... know that they're horrid to their mages. Obviously."

"The Arishok—you've heard of him?" He nodded, and she continued. "He is not just the leader of this particular group of Qunari. He wasn't just the captain of their ship. The Qunari have three leaders who share power over their whole nation, and he is one of them. He is a foreign head of state, Anders, and he commands a military force."

He considered that. "So he could get passage back to Qunari lands if he wanted."

"Yes, I've no doubt that he could," she agreed. "This is not a group of shipwreck victims whose homeland doesn't care enough to recover them. It's not like us Fereldans, love. He's a leader of their nation. Since the rest of the Qunari government hasn't tried to bring them back, it means they're here on an official mission—but they won't say what it is, even to the Viscount. And that fool doesn't care enough to find out."

"You've become very interested in the well-being of Kirkwall," he said, smiling wryly. "Do you really think they mean to conquer the city?"

"I don't know what they intend. That's the problem—nobody does! They certainly conquered Kirkwall once, though: the Storm Age invasion."

Anders grimaced. That was true enough. The Qunari had invaded Kirkwall in the Storm Age and ruled tyrannically, taking children from their parents and forcing conversion to the Qun.

"The Qun is at least as bad for us mages as the worst interpretation of Andrastianism, the worst faction of Templars," Caitlyn continued. "I'd actually say it's worse. And however unethical she is, this Sister Petrice is not an enemy of mages. I don't say that because she claims it herself; her actions demonstrate it. She could have turned me in at any time if she cared about apostates. She has lurked across that alley for a long time. She knew. I cannot aid and abet the Qunari, and thereby this city's existing so-called 'leadership,' just because they act 'honorably,' love. The Qunari would do to both of us—and probably our son—exactly what they did to Ketojan."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I just don't like the idea of choosing the lesser of two evils. I don't like it, and Justice doesn't like it. That woman betrayed you, and whatever she herself thinks, she is part of a system that..." He trailed off.

Her heart went out to him, and she hugged him tenderly. "I understand, sweetheart. I really do. I wish there were another way... but I was given an opportunity tonight and I took it. Justice is pure, but it's an idea. The world is not pure or simple. Your spirit companion knows that himself by now. And if better people assume power in the Chantry, doctrine about mages could change. Official doctrine has changed before based on how a Divine interpreted it... and if the texts are accurate, Andraste said that magic is meant to serve man and not rule over him, not mages. That could just mean that we aren't supposed to let our magic take us over."

Anders chuckled wryly. "That is the Tevinter Chantry interpretation, you know."

"Maybe the Tevinters are right about that, then."

Anders managed a brief smile, but it faded quickly. "I guess I'm also bothered because... the Qunari don't rule Kirkwall. The Templars basically do, and the ones here are horrible to mages. Is this really the right enemy to focus on?"

"As bad as certain aspects of the Circles genuinely are, the Qunari treat their mages even worse, as you saw today."

"Nothing is worse than the Rite of Tranquility. They don't do that."

"Perhaps not," she agreed, "but Qunari mages are treated far worse than Circle mages who aren't made Tranquil. They're kept uneducated, locked in chains, hauled around on leashes as if they're dangerous beasts, their mouths sewn shut so that they can't speak..." She noticed a flicker of blue lightning beneath Anders' skin at these words and shivered; she had not meant to provoke Justice again. "And you saw what Ketojan did to himself, because he had been brainwashed into thinking he literally shouldn't be alive after losing his 'handler.' I think I know what you're about to say, Anders," she added as he opened his mouth to speak. She knew that he was going to bring up how apostates were sometimes killed by Templars. "But it's not the same. There's no doctrine that requires Templars to do that, unlike the Qun. Only the worst ones, like that Karras, do that to innocent apostates who haven't done anything wrong. They didn't kill you upon capturing you."

Anders sighed, rubbing his head. "All right—I concede your point. As much as it pains me to say it... the Circles do treat some mages moderately decently, whereas the Qunari treat all their mages like dangerous animals. And you're right that it could be possible to reform the Chantry and that there are different opinions about magic among the priests, whereas that's not true for the Qun."

"I don't have a problem with the qunari, lowercase-q, race," she mused. "I do have a problem with the Qun. We would lose everything under it. I was saying what I truly believe when I told Petrice that. The Qunari word for mages actually means 'dangerous thing,' and they also won't let people live in families... or openly as couples."

"We're not supposed to be a family or a couple according to the Chantry either," he replied.

"But there are people trying to change policies about mages," she said again. "There are procedures for changing doctrine, and dissenters are allowed to serve and express their views. Do you know what the Qunari do to dissidents who question the Qun?"

He sighed. "Yes. I do."

Encouraged that she was winning the argument, Caitlyn continued. "They wouldn't even let me fight if I were just a warrior, because they don't think women can be soldiers. And speaking of women, they designate certain ones for forced 'breeding.' They force them to breed with males of the state's choosing, brainwashing them from birth that this is just how it is."

Anders grimaced. "All right, all right—I'm no friend of the Qunari, Cait. I knew what they did to mages, which was bad enough, but learning all this... How do you know all this, by the way?"

"I've asked Fenris about them."

He glowered. She swatted at him playfully, smirking. "I told you, he's no threat to you. I asked him because he knows a lot about them, that's all. I'm afraid that before we can deal with Meredith Stannard and the rest of the problems in this city, we'll have to find out what it is they want, and hope it's something peaceful, so that they can go home. Until they do, they will be a distraction from our cause."

He considered that. "People are more likely to object to evil practices when unfamiliar groups are doing them," he said. "I can see people being outraged about how the Qunari treat their mages while shrugging if Templars use the Rite of Tranquility, just because Templars are familiar. It also could embolden Meredith to do even worse, as long as she could say it's not as bad as what the Qunari do. They could even end up being a foil for Meredith and the rest of the Kirkwall leaders if they stay long enough, and as you say, a distraction for the general public, which could result in..."

"In even more power for Meredith," Caitlyn finished. "Yes. It has to be resolved. The Qunari have to go home, for all those reasons."

Anders nodded in agreement, but his face was still troubled.

She noticed. "What's the matter?" she asked gently, taking his hands.

He sighed again. "It's that priest—sister, rather. She was raised an Orlesian noble, playing their 'Great Game.' She used you, endangered your life, to do it. She only decided to give a damn about 'allying' because you said you meant to recover the Amell estate and referred to Leliana. That bothers me. I wish," he muttered under his breath, "that your relationship with me could help mages."

She gave him a hug. "It does. We're able to conspire together. And you'll do much more in the long term for the cause. The main reason Petrice decided to listen was my Amell blood, really."

"Hmph. I still don't trust her."

"I don't either," Caitlyn said immediately. Anders looked surprised, but she continued. "I know she's a Game-player. Right now I have the ability to blackmail her with what she did, and I haven't forgotten it. She still doesn't have a problem with mages, isn't interested in sucking up to Meredith Stannard to advance, and is the only person I've met so far who actually wants to put pressure on the Arishok. The 'leadership' of the city—the Viscount and Grand Cleric—don't seem to care about finding out what they want or intend, and Meredith only cares about harassing mages. They sure have been a lot more accommodating to them than to Fereldans."

"That's true," he said. "I didn't think of that."

"I know that Petrice is a snake, but I trust these Qunari, and the leaders of Kirkwall, even less."

Anders considered that. "So to an extent, this is 'the enemy of my enemies is my friend.'"

"Yes, that's it. If the expedition is a success and we can move to Hightown... and if she advances in the Chantry as quickly as she hopes... but I'm getting ahead of myself," she said.

"I'm just worried about you," he said, managing a smile as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a gentle, loose embrace.

She smiled back and cuddled against his chest. "That's because you are sweet and you care," she said.

"And because I lost you before."

"You won't this time. If she betrays me... we'll take care of it."

"Yes, that we will."

Notes: I'm doing something extremely AU with Petrice, which becomes more consequential later. My take on her is that she's zealous and has "flexible" ethics but is liberal on the mage issue, basically like Prince Bhelen. I think this take can be supported by in-game content, plus the canon of her being born a minor Orlesian noble, if one wants to write her this way. She was willing to work with any Hawke, even a Lowtown apostate mage with no influence (whom she could report to the Circle if Hawke tells her to go f herself, but she doesn't—and that needn't have been "end of story"; it could've just caused random Templar encounters for a mage until s/he becomes Champion). Just as importantly, neither she nor Varnell seem to be cronies of Meredith.

Cait's remarks are pretty much where I'm at with the Qun. I'm sticking with what they do in canon, but that's enough. I'm sure that most of you really dislike the Chantry, and tbh I'm not a fan myself due to its uncontested power over mages (except for the Wardens) and its determination to interfere in secular governments. But I'm writing that Petrice is not a reactionary on the mage issue. Caitlyn is going to team up with her in the early parts of the sequel well beyond what you can do in the game, and her plots may be different from what happens in game as a result. That's not to say that Petrice isn't someone to be watched very carefully, even (maybe especially) as an ally, but Hawke knows that.