Notes: I did not mean that behavior to be overly sympathetic, and this chapter takes on some of the fallout of it.

Song: "Murder City" by Green Day.

Chapter 43: Wide Awake After the Riot

I did what I had to do. People have to see that Caitlyn and I are not weak, that we won't be cowed just because we are mages. I had to make an example of those monsters to show that we are not afraid of our enemies, either here in the city or high in the Chantry. And it's "we" because Caitlyn will understand.

Besides, people have to be shown how dark and brutal and, above all, unfair it is to do these things to mages, and what better way than to do them to the group that inflicts them on mages?

Such were the rationalizations that Anders had told himself for several days after the Gallows riot. He knew that nothing of the sort had been the actual reason that he had conducted the manner of trial he did, executed the ex-Templars as he had, and—though no one knew of this, no one was chastising him for it, save his own conscience—used the Rite of Tranquility on Alrik. He knew that he had actually done these things purely for the pleasure of revenge, but since the riot, he had begun to wonder if he had just lowered himself. If these things were wrong for Templars to do to mages, were they not wrong for a mage to do to Templars? It had felt right at the time, right and just—pure, undiluted justice, untempered by custom or tradition. Why, then, was he doubting now? Why did he need after-the-fact justifications for acts that he had not questioned at the time, except for the Tranquility?

Had he acted just as badly as those he fought, or did guilt and innocence make the difference? Caitlyn and I, and our friends, have killed evil mages too. Is the difference between my actions and my enemies' that these Templars deserved it, whereas innocent mages—or mages who haven't done anything that bad—don't? The law doesn't treat all crimes the same. We don't execute pickpockets and we don't jail murderers for a fortnight. They did deserve it... it was not disproportionate, unlike what they do to us... it was justice...

But I acted vengefully. That was my true, deepest motive, and I cannot deny that even to myself. I did it because of wrongs against me and wrongs that I saw in the whole system, to make them hurt as other mages had been hurt. But isn't that itself justice?

What is the difference? At this, the dead end of this trail of thought every time he dwelt on it, Anders rested his head on his folded arms atop his desk. Justice is exercised by the law and vengeance isn't? But I did act as the law. What is the bloody difference?

The spirit that shared his body and mind could not answer the question either. Anders had, blithely and somewhat nihilistically, accepted this lack of an answer as a justification for himself, but now he wondered if this meant that the darkening of Justice was irreversible. If he could not articulate the difference between these ideas, how could he help the spirit keep to its purpose?

Even if it is wrong, he decided again, reverting back to the beginning of the circle of thought he found himself locked within so much, it could have a good outcome—and these were evil people, so it wasn't that wrong. The northern cities and our enemies high in the Chantry will see they cannot bully us, and if those people rioted because they objected to its being done to rapist Templars, maybe some of them will realize that it is wrong to do it to innocents.

Anders almost laughed aloud at the naïveté of that thought. I need to stop this, he decided, lifting his head and rising from the chair. He passed directly into the family quarters of the Keep and locked himself in. The cat jumped from the chair he was covering in yellow hair and approached Anders, rubbing on his legs and following him with playful bites and leaps at his feet. Anders smiled; he was wearing his boots, so Pounce could not hurt him, and he envied the simplicity of the cat's life at this moment.

He knocked on his son's bedroom door. "Mal?" he said. "Would you like to practice your spells with me?"

He heard shuffling from within the room. "All right," the boy said. He opened the door and looked up at his father. "You're upset," he observed. "Is it because Varric and Aveline are angry with you?"

Anders suppressed an unhappy sigh as he led Mal down to the warded practice room. Varric and Aveline were basically not speaking to him anymore except when they had to have his official approval for something, and he had to acknowledge, he was not being much of a Regent since the riot, choosing instead to stay ensconced in the Keep. Aveline had called a strict curfew every night since then. "That's a part of it," he said to his son.

"It's all right. Friends never stay angry forever, and Merrill still likes us. And Mother is going to be back tomorrow, and after that, it's my birthday! It's going to be all right."

I wish that I could be confident that her return would truly make everything all right, he thought.

Caitlyn's ship was set to come ashore at midday. Despite the fact that it was the middle of winter, she had been lucky for both trips in that the ship encountered no storms. It was cold but brilliantly sunny. She would have taken it as a good omen if she were superstitious, but instead, it was just a further mood boost. She was already feeling positive about the successful trip, the treaty of alliance between Kirkwall and Ferelden that she carried back, and the fact that she was going to see her friends, Anders, and Mal again. Tomorrow is Mal's birthday, she thought, and I hope he likes the gifts I got him in Denerim. I can't wait to see him... and Mother... and Anders. Maker, it's been two weeks. I hope it's not obvious to anyone how often my thoughts have strayed to the reunion with Anders. Thank the Maker indeed for Warden stamina!

As the ship sailed through the Twins, the Tevinter statues of miserable slaves that marked the entry to Kirkwall waters, her good mood faltered a bit. I remember the other time I saw those things from this angle, she thought, remembering the trip in Dragon 9:30 when Bethany had just been killed. But it is very different now.

The hideous statues and imposing rock formations gave way to the familiar harbor and towering, stepped city. Caitlyn's ship docked, and she prepared to disembark once the sailors made it safe for her. Baldwin barked eagerly, looking forward to seeing the rest of his pack as well. Caitlyn gathered her staff and slung it across one shoulder, smiling as she gazed upon the city.

In a minute, Aveline appeared at the head of the guards who were gathered at the harbor to receive the ship. She looked extremely put out. Caitlyn noticed, with some surprise and sudden alarm, that her family was nowhere to be seen. As she approached the gangplank to let Aveline escort her—she did not need it, but it was a courtesy for a head of state—she then noticed that there seemed to be an unusual number of guards about, and they were all very wary.

"Your Grace," Aveline said in clipped tones. "Welcome home. I hope your trip was successful."

"It was, in fact," she said quietly, so that no one else could overhear. "I got the alliance." Aveline's expression changed to a grim smile at these words. "What's the matter? Something is wrong. Where are Anders and the rest of my family?"

They set foot on the dock, and guards immediately formed a tight circle around Caitlyn to escort her to a carriage that would take her to the Keep. "We had a riot," Aveline said, gazing ahead—almost glowering. "We can talk about it at the Keep. Your family and friends are all fine, don't worry about that."

Relief filled her at Aveline's last sentence, but her first one was shocking. "A riot? A full-fledged riot, not just another protest or small street fight?"

"A full-fledged riot at the Gallows." She helped Caitlyn into the carriage.

"Then why wait until we reach the Keep?" Caitlyn exclaimed once it started to roll up the street. "What in the Void happened?"

Her lips thinned and she stared ahead. "It's not my place to tell you like this. The Lord Consort will want to have his say as well, and you have the right to hear it all at once without prior prejudice."

Aveline was very formal and proper with Caitlyn's and Anders' titles in her official capacity as Captain of the Guard, but among friends and in private, she called them by their own names, especially Anders. Caitlyn instantly realized that she was extremely angry at Anders not to do so, and that it related to the riot. What in the Maker's name did he do? she thought. To her dismay, her anticipation for their physical reunion lessened a bit. She resolved not to judge before she knew the facts, but she felt apprehensive nonetheless.

"Mother!" exclaimed Mal, beaming as she entered the Keep. "You're back! Guess what tomorrow is?"

She decided to play along. "Hmm, should there be a council meeting..."

"It's my birthday! Did you get me any presents in Ferelden? Did you go to Lothering?"

She was smiling at his joy and anticipation until that last question. "I did remember it was your birthday! I was just teasing you. And I did get you presents," she said, trying not to sound too sad, "but they came from Denerim. You never saw Denerim, but someday you will, I'm sure." She wanted to avoid telling him the horrible truth about Lothering, which he knew was his birthplace and of which he did have a few memories. She didn't want him to forget it, because that would mean forgetting Bethany, but she realized that she was not prepared for this. The memories had not been too badly stirred up on her trip because she had not passed over any familiar ground.

"I'll go with you next time," he agreed, "and then we can go to Lothering together and see where I was born."

"I... maybe," she said brokenly. She gazed sadly at him. "Right now, Mal, Lothering... it hasn't been rebuilt or resettled yet. No one is there."

His face fell. "Oh," he said in a small voice.

"But there are lots of nice towns to see in Ferelden," she said, "and after all, I have only seen Gwaren and Denerim! Your uncle Carver has probably seen all of the big towns by now. Maybe someday we can do that with him."

Mal nodded. "That would be good. What did you get me in Denerim?"

She smirked. "Your birthday presents... and today is not your birthday. You'll see tomorrow!"

He smiled again and scampered off, Baldwin following behind him playfully. As they disappeared toward the inner rooms of the Keep, she noticed that Anders had emerged from his office at last. His face was a study: She saw defensiveness, wariness, and perhaps a bit of shame, but also genuine happiness at seeing her again. Aveline had witnessed the family moment with Mal as she stood guard in the corner, but the nostalgic smile that had formed on her face faded as Anders appeared.

"Welcome back, love," Anders said quietly as he approached her.

She embraced him immediately. Whatever had happened, she did not want to start off negatively. He hesitated but wrapped his arms around her in return after a moment. She closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth and the closeness. Her desire to reunite intimately with him surged back... but they couldn't do it now. She drew away and smiled mildly at him. "I got the alliance," she said.

He glanced down at the floor. "Good! Are the terms what you expected?"

She was surprised by that reaction and instantly on her guard. "No changes to the ones we all discussed," she confirmed. "Why? Aveline has already told me that there was a riot. She didn't say anything else except that you would want to have your say. What happened? Is it something that you fear might imperil the alliance?"

Anders sighed. Leave it to her to lay it out like that, he thought. Taking her hand gently, he gazed ahead. "We should all discuss it, and Varric too."

Caitlyn listened in increasing astonishment and indignation as the three of them narrated what had happened while she was away. "Let me make sure I understand this," she said, gaping at Anders. "You used magic to silence them at trial and allowed the crowd to throw rotten food at them? Then instead of hanging them, you came up with the idea of sending a lightning spell through their metal chains to put them to death, and did this in front of a crowd?"

He glowered. "They deserved it. That sort of trial is exactly what they do to mages, and if you think that it will be any better for mage trials to be heard by a 'panel of priests' instead of a proper court—" He broke off. He was not angry with her; he didn't want her first few hours home to be like this.

"So you hate what Templars do; you think it's wrong; therefore, the obvious answer is to do it yourself," Varric said sarcastically.

"It's not the same. I didn't do it first. It would be wrong for me to strike the first blow, but justice that is too mild for the offense isn't true justice," he said, withdrawing into himself, staring at them across the table.

Aveline scowled at Anders. "None of us doubt the Templars' guilt. We were all there and we saw and heard them. They deserved execution. There is no question of that. But doing it like you insisted on doing..."

Caitlyn glared fiercely at him as well. "It sounds as if the riot erupted in part because a significant part of Kirkwall did doubt their guilt due to the ridiculous 'trial.' You knew they were guilty. Others didn't."

Feeling under siege, Anders became even more defensive. "They rioted because they are the same ones who have been listening to Meredith, passing on Elthina's words, speaking sedition against you—and they also did it because I am a mage," he said defiantly.

"The leaders of the riot—both sides of the riot," Aveline added with a dark glare at Anders, "are still in jail. Anders decreed that they would be held there without trial until you or he decided to release them."

Caitlyn gaped at Anders. "What? Anders, you can't do that! The law dictates a certain maximum sentence for crimes. What actually happened? Did these rioters kill anyone?"

"No," Aveline said. "He just decided that they should be locked up because they were disrespectful to his 'Court of Justice.'"

Caitlyn breathed out, trying to control her temper. She was becoming furious with Anders. I went to Ferelden to get a much-needed alliance of defense for Kirkwall. I left him in charge for a mere two weeks, and this is the best he could do? To Aveline she said, "They won't be locked up for life unless they did something that merits that and a court sentences them. If you don't already have a list of what these people were specifically arrested for, please compile one soon so we can do that. If possible, let's try them all at once and be done with it, rather than dragging trials out individually. Less ill feeling."

"Oh... and there is one other thing," said Varric. "You have another guest in the Keep: Sebastian Vael. Although I understand that Blondie regards him as a hostage. It's fortunate for us all that King Alistair didn't see you that way."

Anders slammed his palms on the table at that. "He is not a prisoner! He has a guest room in the outer Keep with food and every comfort." He scowled at the table as he explained to Caitlyn. After several days, he did have second thoughts about this, but Varric's cutting sarcasm only made him want to dig in again. "He arrived with the presumption of offering a 'truce' while still expecting to harbor Elthina as she encourages sedition and lies by agents. There is a schism brewing in the Chantry that threatens us, and she is aiding and abetting it. I said Sebastian would stay here until he turned her over."

"Well, that would be taking a hostage," Caitlyn said pointedly. At the overwhelmed, hunted look on Anders' face, she softened slightly. "All right. I actually don't blame you for not wanting to treat with him if he won't offer anything meaningful... and perhaps we should reconsider what that means. Maybe we shouldn't expect him to offer us her head, since she is like a mother to him. I certainly couldn't do anything to you if he demanded it. But you are absolutely right that she is undermining us, helping Meredith, and providing aid to reactionaries in the Chantry who are encouraging the likes of Meredith—and indirectly, Alrik. He won't get any terms from me unless he is willing to work against that, and that means breaking his alliance with Tantervale and muzzling Elthina at a minimum. However," she said, fixing Anders with a stern look, "you cannot just lock him in the Keep, even in a nice room. You do realize that Starkhaven and Tantervale would eventually march on us, don't you?"

He gazed down at the table, embarrassed this time. "I... you're right."

"I will talk with him soon—once I am confident that I wouldn't blast him backward," she said wryly, provoking a smile from Varric and the ghost of one from Anders. "Now... I'm sorry to dismiss you... but I think Anders and I need to have a private discussion about the riot and the events leading up to it."

Aveline and Varric rose from their seats at once and hurried away, closing the doors tightly behind them. Caitlyn took another deep breath and turned to Anders, who had drawn himself back into a tight position, his arms crossed over his chest defensively.

"Well," she said, "I was looking forward to seeing you again..."

"And now you wish you were still in Denerim?"

She glared back at him. "No. I wish that you had kept your head. Do you comprehend what you've done?"

"What I've done?"

"You were dissatisfied with the piecemeal compromises I made with Petrice for Circle reform. So am I! I wanted to do more! I wanted to be as radical as you could dream of... and you had a perfect case that you could use to support that agenda. Don't you see, Anders? This proves that mild reform isn't enough. The Grand Cleric of Kirkwall ordered changes, but there were still Templars who just didn't follow her orders, and if not for Thrask, nobody would have known about it!" She rose from her chair heatedly, becoming more exercised the more she thought and talked about it. Turning to face him, she continued. "This proves that the Circles need to be opened up completely so that there are institutions other than just the Chantry that can keep an eye on them. It proves that everything we wanted to do is right and necessary..." She trailed off darkly, fury overtaking her. "And you blew it! You could have used this to win people over to radical change, but instead, you made yourself look like some kind of Tevinter tyrant and incited civil unrest!"

For a moment, Anders looked properly abashed, but that moment passed in the blink of an eye. In the next, the familiar crackles of blue lightning began to pass over his head and neck. Caitlyn sucked in her breath hard. This was not something she had wanted to deal with—

"You worry about politics," he growled, his voice attenuated, "but you were not here! You did not see the gang of Templars threatening a young girl, all but confessing that they had done these things before to others! Merely hanging the rapists would not have been true justice, and denying them the right to speak in their defense is exactly what Templars do to mages, except that most mages wouldn't lie like they did!"

"I'm not going to debate with a Fade spirit," Caitlyn said harshly. "You listen to me, Justice. Back off and let Anders have his say!"

"We share," he replied. "And we do not just share a body. I explained this before. We bleed together. Our thoughts blend sometimes."

"That's beside the point," she said. "Most of the time, he has more control than right now. Is that what happened to cause all of this? You were so focused on 'justice' against these specific Templars that you lost sight of the greater cause and everything else? Anders wouldn't forget about the cause!"

"The cause?" he said as Fade-light crackled and rippled all over him, making him look frighteningly pale in the dark coat he was wearing. "Is that what you're worried about? Not your Fereldan alliance, not your new crown? Not the power that you wanted for three years?"

Caitlyn drew back, shocked, furious, and hurt. She gaped at him, emerald eyes wide.

A look of horror passed over Anders' face at his own words. She was still too stunned to process it, to do anything except observe, but he wrested the spirit into submission. The blue crackles faded away, and when he spoke again, his voice was his own. "Caitlyn, I'm so sorry—I didn't mean that—please, I'm sorry, please forgive me—"

I can't believe you said that, she thought as she stared at his pleading face, but... on some level, is it true?

"Cait," he whispered. "Please..."

She realized that he meant it, and that most likely, Justice was not himself at the moment. She had seen the spirit in its normal aspect, righteous and hard but never cruel. This was the spirit's other aspect. She swallowed hard, trying not to become awash in hurt or anger. "I forgive you," she managed, "but you know... and I mean this for both of you... have you ever considered that now, justice for mages may well depend on my keeping political power? I don't know that, but it could be the case. And even if it isn't, the safety of your son, his ability to have a chance at something like a normal life instead of being the child of perpetual fugitives and hermits, depends on 'my power.'"

Anders grimaced, closing his eyes, unable to dispute her points.

She heaved a sigh, trying to dissipate her frustration, and continued. "As for what you claimed before that outburst... you have to know that isn't true, both of you. All you did was dirty your own hands. You did what you hate."

The defensive scowl filled his face again. "That's the nature of justice. It requires people to do things that would be wrong if they did them first."

"Anders—I am not disputing that those Templars deserved death! They did! But there was no need to do what you did. They're dead! You're not Andrastian, but you believe in the Maker, and you believe they're walking the Void. That's worse than anything you could mete out! And speaking of that... you said that hanging them wouldn't have been true justice, but did they really suffer more in an execution-by-lightning than they would have in a hanging? Besides, is inflicting torture what Justice would want... or Vengeance?"

Inflicting torture, Anders thought. Her words hit him hard, and with them, the one thing he had told no one rushed to the forefront of his thoughts. Justice definitely would not have done that, he thought. Pure Justice was opposed to it. He murdered Rolan violently and gorily, and he was already slightly impure when that happened, just by joining with me, but he took Rolan's life for what he caused for the Hawkes and for all the mages that he ruined in Ferelden. The Rite of Tranquility was wrong and Justice knew that.

I did it to Alrik purely out of revenge, he realized, accepting the dark truth at last. I didn't even let him live as a Tranquil. I killed him immediately with the lyrium brand. It was not about a harsh form of justice by making him live as he made others live. It was about the momentary dark glee at the act of doing it. Is that the difference? Is that what defines vengeance?

He had not told anyone else. No one knew, but he could not keep this from her. Lifting his head up again to face her, eyes wide and miserable, he spoke, surprised that his voice was only a broken whisper suddenly. "Cait," he said, "yes. He was Vengeance. And I know this because... there was something else that I did, something that nobody saw and nobody knows about... until now."

She had been ready to continue trying to persuade him, although it was wearying her, but his sudden change of tone—and without an obvious source of shame, as his instant apology minutes ago had had—startled her. What else had he done? She was almost afraid of what she was about to hear, but whatever it was, he wanted to confess it, and she did not want to discourage that. "What was it, love?" she asked as gently as she could.

He closed his eyes, feeling suddenly that he did not deserve the word. What would she think? There was nothing for it but to say it and find out, he knew. "The leader, Alrik, was not one of the ones executed at the Gallows," he began. "I did that alone in the jail cell. And... please try not to hate me for this..."

"I tried and failed to hate you once for what I imagined you did to me," she said wryly. "I couldn't hate you for whatever you did to him."

He managed a single bleak chuckle, but his regret quickly took over again. "He had been carrying the instruments of the Rite of Tranquility on him. I used them against him in that cell," he said, no longer pausing or hesitating. It was better just to say it at last. "I let Justice—Vengeance—find a vague memory in the Fade of what to do, and I did it to him. And then killed him with the lyrium brand." He gazed up at her, his eyes contrite but also challenging, as if daring her to follow through with her promise not to hate him.

Caitlyn had drawn her hands to her mouth halfway through his explanation, gazing in shock at him. She blinked and removed her hands, trying to accept what she had just heard. "You..."

"I have tried not to think too hard about it," he croaked, "because I have always considered that the worst, the greatest abuse of all. Living as an emotionless slave, unable to feel or dream ever again, is worse than anything. And I did it. I didn't let him live that way; I killed him immediately, but it wasn't because of mercy. It was because I knew that the lyrium brand would be torture to a Tranquil. The last thing he said before I... severed him... was to tell me how much Karl suffered."

She rose from her seat and crossed around the table to sit next to him, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"I had the brand against his forehead first. He knew that that alone would kill him, I'm sure, and he said that because he could still make me hurt even as he died of the lyrium. So I didn't want him to be able to find any more solace in his own evil and cruelty. I wanted him completely in my power, unable to fight back even with words—and that's what Tranquility is. And I did that." A sob escaped him as he hung his head, covering his eyes with his hands. "I'm not proud of it. I'm not sure that anyone, even someone like him, deserves that, but even if some do... I feel stained for having done it myself, the thing I saw as the worst evil of all, and I can never wipe that off. And it was Vengeance's influence... but Caitlyn... he formed because of me, my anger and imperfection. Justice once was perfect, at least as the ideal that he personified. He never would have done that for any reason, let alone those reasons."

She pulled him into her arms across the narrow space between their chairs. "Anders," she said gently, stroking his head. "I won't say it's all right, but I understand. I've given in to my darkness too. Merrill almost died because of it recently, and I almost destroyed our hope for a future together another time I gave in."

Anders gazed up at her, his eyes now showing fear. "It's becoming less clear to me when the spirit is in control," he said. "He doesn't always take me over fully anymore. I'm not sure sometimes, when I'm angry, where I end and he begins. And it is making both of us into something that..."

"Hush. You can do this. You can control it," she said quietly as she tried to comfort him. He stifled another sob as she held his bent head against her shoulder. This was not how she had expected to be spending her first few hours home, and after the talk, she had been furious and prepared to let him have it for his behavior. I still have a mess to clean up, she thought, but if he is worried and hurting, I need to try to help him anyway. He was always there for me when something was troubling me, even when I lashed out at him.

At last he lifted his head, heaving a shuddering sigh. He gazed at her. "Thank you, love. I knew you would understand."

She drew back suddenly and eyed him, suspicion filling her again. "What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have done the Rite," he said, "and... I suppose I shouldn't have locked up Sebastian in a fit of pique. But we came to an accord about the rest... didn't we?" he finished uncertainly.

Caitlyn rose from her seat, the moment lost, as she stared at him. "The accord I understood was that you acknowledged that Justice was dark when you did all of it," she said.

He stared past her. "I didn't think he... You said that inflicting torture was not something Justice would want to do, and I had to confess about the Rite then, but the rest of it was not torture. I didn't do the other things to torture the Templars, just to show them what it felt like when they treat mages that way."

"I fail to see much of a distinction," she said coolly, eyebrows raised.

"There were other reasons," he burst out. "I didn't think of them, exactly, at the time, but I thought of them afterward."

"So they're after-the-fact justifications?"

He scowled, the moment of sweetness and closeness completely gone now. "This could persuade people who don't understand what mages are so upset about. If they object to something being done to Templars, maybe they will understand then. And it will send a message to the Knight-Vigilant, the northern clerics, all of those people, that we are not afraid of them."

"Oh, it'll send a message, no doubt, just not the one that you want!" she exploded. "Anders, I don't like it either, but the fact is that people have different expectations for us! For the sake of holding the moral high ground and convincing people that our cause is right, we have to show that we are better! We cannot hold show trials and put people to death with magic as some sort of metaphorical middle finger. Obviously combat and self-defense are different. But when we are exercising power, we have to be better. Maybe it's unfair, but it's the truth."

He turned aside, pain in every line of his face at the disagreement. It seemed intractable, and he hated that. "I cannot accept this unfairness," he said. "All I want is to be treated the same as everyone else. I want you to be, and Mal to be, and you say that we can't, even now. It's good that you are back, because clearly, I should never be Regent again. I'm sorry."

Caitlyn stared at him, unhappy and frustrated, as he left.

She caught up with the rest of the events that had transpired while she was away. There was no word from Orlais about the Comte's visit, but that was a long journey and she did not expect to hear anything so soon. Curiously, the rest of her Small Council was divided about Anders' actions. Varric and Aveline were resolutely opposed, and Ser Marlein was not overly pleased either, but Mistress Selby appeared to take some perverse pleasure in the proceedings. Merrill was fearful most of all; she did not have an opinion about whether Anders' actions were right or wrong, but she did know that the city was in a state of unease ever since the riot. And in a turn that actually shocked Caitlyn, Petrice was pleased that Anders had been so harsh with the Templars. Apparently she was extremely offended that Meredith had turned a blind eye to actions that defied her edicts, viewing herself as the real target of the Templars' "defiance." She did care about the rapes, since rape had been one of her major arguments against the Qunari, but she seemed most pleased that Anders had cracked down so hard on an affront to her authority as Grand Cleric. It was a development that Caitlyn had not foreseen, and it was frustrating. She of all people should understand the bad politics of magic being used this way. But then, I know that she is obsessed with her own "power" and a better short-term planner than a long-term one. Still, she ought to understand that this sort of news out of Kirkwall will not help us with the opposition to Divine Justinia.

"They are never going to support you, you know," the priest said when Caitlyn talked about it with her late that afternoon. "You could abdicate and they would still want to tear your family apart."

She tried not to show her own exasperation. "I'm not trying to get their support. I know they are obdurate enemies. I just don't want more people to support them, and his conduct does not make mages look good. I have no problem with what he did to those Templars, or for that matter with the fact that he had a riot put down, just how he did it."

The priest considered that, nodding. "I see your point. Fortunate, then, that you are back."

Caitlyn smiled grimly. "Well, I have work to do now to try to repair some of the damage, and I'd like to start at once. Let's get the Healers out of the Circle and into the Chantry... and the outer Keep. Anders was most popular among the people as the Healer who stopped the flu outbreak. It's a type of magic that most people like. Let's showcase that."

After the very long and trying day was finally at an end, she had read to Mal and assured him that he would have a fun birthday feast the following day. She pulled Mal's door closed and gazed down the hall. Unlike most ruling families, they did not have guards stationed outside everyone's door during the night, but that was because Caitlyn and Anders had heavily warded every set of doors that led to the family quarters of the inner Keep. Other than Aveline, Donnic, and one or two others, she trusted her own magic—and her dog—more than she trusted the City Guard, what with its history of corruption, and Anders felt the same. It had the advantage of conferring more privacy on them, as well.

Anders was waiting at the end of the corridor, next to the doors of their bedroom. She approached him with a smile growing on her face. Despite the argument they'd had and the fact that they had not come to agree on the main point, despite the task that lay before her of cleaning up the mess he had made of Kirkwall, she had still missed him very much during the past two weeks. She reached him and drew very close, his eyes widening in surprise—but not rejection. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his right arm around her to bring her close for a kiss.

"I thought you were still angry with me," he said as they broke apart and shuffled into the room.

She closed the great doors, took his hand, and pulled him toward the bed. "I am still somewhat angry with you. This has created quite a mess for me, and I wish you could understand why I feel as I do."

He gazed at her. "I apologize for the trouble I created for you," he said, his voice quiet but sincere. She suppressed a sigh. He did mean it, and she was glad that he had said it, but he had conspicuously not said anything else. He really did think he was right to do most of it... but, she thought, I can't control what he thinks. I've learned not to give him absolute power again, and he has recognized that a couple of things he did were wrong and apologized for the trouble. That matters. Even if we see the rest fundamentally differently, he at least recognizes that his view of it caused problems for me.

"Thank you," she said in reply. "That means a lot to me. And whatever we disagree about, it has nothing to do with not loving or wanting you." She sat on the mattress and drew him close, which he willingly allowed and soon joined, embracing her in return. "If I refuse you, it means I'm not in the mood that night—and that's all it means. I would never use this part of our lives as a weapon to extort anything out of you."

He smiled as they began to remove their clothes. "I love you," he murmured, pulling her close even before her gown was off. "Never doubt that."

"I have never doubted it since we reconciled three and a half years ago," she said. "Not once." She reluctantly broke away from his embrace and lifted her gown over her head, mussing her hair as she did. His eyes gleamed at the sight of her in her short, bare-shoulder chemise. He quickly hurried out of his coat and underclothes.

"I missed you," he said, drawing her close and falling onto his side with her in his arms. They kissed quickly but intensely.

"I missed you," she replied. "We went two weeks without. And I'm going to show you how glad I am to see you... infuriating as you can sometimes be."

He laughed and allowed her to roll him onto his back.

Caitlyn wanted to take care of necessary business the next day before Mal's birthday event. The first matter was Prince Sebastian. The Fereldans might put treaties of alliance to a vote of the full Landsmeet, but in Kirkwall, the ruler had more power, and Caitlyn did see the point of presenting a strong face—much as she deplored the way that Anders had done it, especially since that had not even been his original motive. This wouldn't go to the full Small Council. She sent for Varric, who seemed the wisest choice for this. In a small room with only him, Anders, and herself, she had the prince brought to sit and talk.

Sebastian had been in a very comfortable suite, but Anders had ordered him locked there and forbidden him from going anywhere else, and he was still resentful. Caitlyn wondered for a moment if she had made a mistake in having Anders present at all, but she did want Varric there, and it might look questionable to have a close male friend but not her own husband.

"First, I apologize for your treatment," she said to Sebastian. She hated saying it, but it was necessary. His face was black and blue, so something had happened. "What happened to your nose? Did my guards do that?"

"No, your husband hit me."

Caitlyn turned to Anders, eyebrows raised, exasperation flooding her face.

"He said something horrible," Anders began to object.

"Then you say something back to him! Maker's flaming breath. Heal it."

Anders could not look at either of them as he cast a healing spell. The ugly bruises lifted, though the prince's nose was still a bit crooked.

Caitlyn continued. "I understand that you came seeking a truce. We are not at war, but obviously, Starkhaven and Kirkwall have not been on the best of terms lately. But I am returned now, so I hope you will speak freely with me. What were you offering in this truce?"

Sebastian glowered at Anders, then turned back to her. "I have been held as a prisoner here since my arrival. Not in a cell, at least, and I was well-fed, but I was nonetheless locked in that chamber at your husband's orders. I am not well-disposed to your household right now, Your Grace." He suppressed a snarling sigh. "The terms of my offer are also advice for you as a ruler."

Anders hissed under his breath and muttered something. Varric frowned at him, then at Sebastian for his presumption. Caitlyn too felt insulted by the arrogance of this... but better to hear what it was. It would at least give them an idea of how stubborn a rival he would prove to be.

"Kirkwall has a history of close ties with the Templar Order. If you formed a power-sharing agreement with the Knight-Commander, who is seen as a hero in Kirkwall even now, Starkhaven and Tantervale could suffer your—that is—" He broke off, stammering, suddenly blushing.

Caitlyn breathed heavily, trying not to erupt in anger. "Suffer my rule as a mage?" She glared at him. "Sebastian, it is not your place to dictate how I manage Kirkwall's relationship with outside orders such as the Templars or with whom I 'share power.' Meredith Stannard in particular has behaved as an enemy to me, sending her favorites into the city to stir up discontent. She has overseen grotesque abuse in the Circle, and she accused me, my husband, and the Grand Cleric of deliberately provoking the Qunari in order to seize power!"

"That is similar to what you accused Elthina of doing."

She glared at him, lifting her head and staring at him with a downward glance. "I wish you would accept the fact that we had evidence against Elthina. You do not believe it because you do not want to believe it. She, too, by the way, speaks against me from afar. No, Sebastian, as long as you let her make pronouncements against me and my allies, we have nothing to discuss. You make unreasonable demands of me and offer nothing in return. At a minimum, I want her kept from writing to Meredith and from issuing condemnations of me before I consider any terms—and the terms you named are unacceptable, anyway. I will not share power with Meredith Stannard."

"Meredith and Elthina were colleagues for many years. It is not for me to stop her from writing to someone she knows so well. This is a term of my truce offer, but I am also advising you for your own good to make peace with the Knight-Commander, Your Grace. It would go a long way toward making others more comfortable with a mage ruling if..."

"If she had a Templar holding her leash," Anders put in at last, unable to keep silent, his tone a sarcastic snarl. "You heard her. She said no."

Sebastian turned to Varric in desperation. "You are a man of the world," he said. "A pragmatist, a realist. Your people have no mages or Templars and thus no stake in the matter. Do you agree with this too?"

Varric eyed him warily. "I have to say, I wouldn't consider it wise for a leader to 'share power' with someone who thinks she ought to be locked up. In my opinion, there's no 'sharing' in that—or there quickly ceases to be."

"Was this Elthina's suggestion?" Caitlyn suddenly asked, the hunch entering her mind so strongly that she was sure it had to be true.

"She thought it a good idea to keep the peace... she just wants peace..."

Caitlyn rose to her feet, followed quickly by the other three. "So you are offering terms that would reduce my rule to nothing, a mere puppet of the one who would become the real ruler, at the behest of someone who is writing to that person and, with her, inciting rebellion and sedition against me in Kirkwall. I'm no fool, Sebastian. That road leads to my premature death."

Sebastian gasped in shock and indignation. "Elthina would never—"

"Elthina wouldn't have to dirty her own hands. My answer is final: absolutely not. If this is your only offer, I think it best that you return to Starkhaven at once, Your Highness."

"Well," she said to Anders and Varric after he was sent back in a hurry, "I'm not saying that you were right to treat him as a hostage, but in a way, I'm actually glad that he didn't have the chance to gather too much useful intelligence. Elthina, the Grand Cleric of Tantervale, and whoever their other allies are—they are playing him for a fool. Was he really so naïve as to not see the ultimate purpose of that 'plan'?"

"I think he was that naïve," muttered Anders. He gazed up at her. "Listen. It's possible, even likely, that this was always what he came here to say, but if he had a better offer at first and chose not to mention it after... Well, what I mean to say is, if my actions made it worse for you, I'm sorry again for that."

Varric glanced approvingly at him for that apology.

She managed a weak smile for him. "Thank you. We'll probably never know, but... thank you anyway."

At last evening arrived, and the family could settle down for Mal's party. The Amells and Leandra arrived at the Keep and were quickly welcomed into the family quarters, where Caitlyn, Anders, and their friends had piled Mal's many gifts high. As the son of the Viscountess of Kirkwall, he had an order of magnitude more gifts for this birthday than he had ever had in his life, but most of them were from strangers seeking to cultivate his family and held little meaning for him. She was pleased that he valued the ones from friends and family so much more highly, even if they were less grand and expensive.

"I bought these for you in Denerim," she explained to him, handing him her parcel, "and these are from the King and Queen of Ferelden."

"They're books," he stated, observing the weight and shape of the royal gifts.

"They may be," she agreed, "because I did tell them that you like to read."

He smiled and opened his mother's gifts first, eyes lighting up in delight at the sight of a set of miniature vials and safe herbal ingredients for potion-making. "This is like Father's!" he exclaimed.

Anders leaned over. "Yes, they're like the ones I use to make elfroot tonic!"

Caitlyn gazed fondly at her son as he next opened the gifts from Fenris and Isabela, a little wooden ship, complete with wooden captain and crew figures that could stand on their own. She gazed at the other gifts from her friends—from Varric, merchant figures and a cart with functioning wheels; from Merrill, a set of carved Dalish halla; from Aveline, metal soldiers. Anders had given him several things, but among them were a trio of mage dolls.

"You coordinated this!" she exclaimed to him, smiling.

Anders shrugged but did not deny it.

Mal beamed at his father, realizing it himself. "He did! You did, didn't you, Father? You planned it out with everyone so that I could have a whole world to play with."

A whole world to play with, she thought suddenly. I have a city to "play with"... and possibly the fate of mages in southern Thedas. As she met Anders' gaze, she realized that he was thinking very similar thoughts—and that his gaze was wide and empathetic, as if he had just had an epiphany.

Late that night, after they had gone to bed, Anders turned to her, needing to talk. "I thought about everything," he said in a low voice. "Maybe it was what he said, the innocent joy of a child, that made me realize it. Seven years," he whispered, suddenly reaching out for her. She allowed him to pull her close and cuddled against him. "I still wish I could have been there for his birth. Seven years, eight since we met—and we've only been able to have half of that time together."

"We have all of our lives ahead of us," she said gently.

"And if I throw that away..." He trailed off darkly, shook his head, and continued. "I understand now. I understand about everything—everything that happened, everything that I did while you were gone. It seemed just to me at the time, but... even if it was, there are more important things." He gazed at her with apologetic eyes. "I was wrong to prioritize raw, 'perfect' justice upon a few miscreants at the potential cost of a better world for all mages."

She held him, closing her eyes.

"Those Templars deserved death... but I understand now what I did, by giving it to them the way I did. Politically and... otherwise. I thought it was justice... but... I did it, I did all of it, not just the darkest thing, because it made me feel good. It wasn't... he wasn't..." He suddenly burst into sobs.

Caitlyn held him tightly. "He is not lost," she told him. "You understand what happened and what he was at the time. That's crucial to ensuring it doesn't happen again. It was... a lapse. I don't know if he is still anything like a distinct person, but either way, Anders, it was just a lapse. You are not lost and neither is he, however distinct he is."

He was trying to stifle his sobs as she held him. Three and a half years ago, I was the one barely holding together, she thought, caressing his head, and he was there for me through it all. Now it is my turn.

"Anders," she said gently, "I know it's hard... but please remember that I am here for you." She hesitated before continuing. "Inside this body is the same young mage who loved his freedom and then, through that freedom... however short it was then... found another love. We still have that. That's still you. And... also in this body is the same good spirit who found a despairing man in the Fade and saved his life, and then who defended a village against a tyrant who murdered them and trapped their souls there."

He sobbed again before finally saying, brokenly, "That's who we were. It's not who we are anymore."

She pulled him close, thinking of how to respond to that as she attempted to comfort him with her touch. Finally she said, "People change, yes. But the people we used to be are always a part of who we become."

"And what have I become? I'm the tyrant now," he whispered, "and I trapped him where he cannot escape."

"You are not!" she exclaimed at once.

He lifted his head and gazed miserably at her. "Am I not? I did the very things that I hated having done to me, and to other mages, and called it justice. Believed it was justice, too. I performed the Rite of Tranquility, the worst abuse of all. And you've worked so hard for the cause and now I've ruined everything you achieved."

She took him firmly by the shoulders and stared at him. "Anders. You have done no such thing. I have to do some, er, cleanup, and there will need to be more olive branches offered to settle the city down, but I am still Viscountess and still have Fereldan allies. You haven't 'ruined everything.'"

He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I made things harder for you. I want to try to fix it."

She gave him an encouraging smile. "I know what you can do. You are at your best, kindest, and most compassionate as a Healer. You haven't had the chance to do that for a while due to our change in circumstances."

"I miss the little clinic," he confessed. "It was shabby, but it connected me and my magic to the people."

"I thought you might have," she said, gazing sympathetically at him. "The Grand Cleric has agreed with me to let some Healers work in the outer Keep rather than the Chantry. That will encourage those in the city who aren't Andrastian, or who don't always feel welcome in the Chantry like the elves of the alienage or the remaining Tal-Vashoth, to take advantage of mage healing too. I want you to oversee that. And do it, if you want. You can even have Mal watching... as long as he understands that he cannot practice it himself yet."

Anders smiled, and it was a real smile this time. "He does. Someday that will be different... but that day is not here yet. I'll be happy to do it. It's great that you're doing this so soon!"

"The city needs to see magic in a good light again," she said wryly. She caressed his shoulders. "And you need to remember who and what you are, and not fall further into this black mood. Yes, you caused difficulties for me—but they can be overcome. What I can't overcome is to lose you to your own fatalism or darkness."

He held her tightly. "You won't. We're here for each other."

Notes: Anders' comment questioning whether she cares more about her power or the cause may come close to verbal abuse, but that's why he apologized at once.

This is not all the political fallout, though.