Notes: The song is "The Dark" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Also on my playlist were "Jenny of Oldstones" (sung before the Battle of Winterfell); "The Steward of Gondor," "I See Fire," and "Gollum's Song" from the Lord of the Rings and Hobbit soundtracks; and "I Am the One" from the other two DA games.

Chapter 54: Show the Cards and Embrace the Dark

Anders, Varric, Aveline, and Donnic trudged back to the Keep, escorted by a contingent of guards, a couple of whom were carrying Mistress Selby's wrapped body on a litter. The seneschal was summoned to inform Caitlyn, who appeared shortly, shock, fury, and sorrow on her face. She gaped at the body as the guards set it down and turned to her friends and Anders. He stared back at her, rage in his own eyes too, unable to speak yet.

"There was nothing he could have done," said Varric after a moment of awkward silence. "Nothing anyone could have done. It was... very quick, a crossbow bolt straight through the heart. I don't think she suffered."

Caitlyn stared at the wrapped body again, not quite able to process what she was hearing. Her ally, her Council member, her strongest co-conspirator in expanding mage rights, besides her own family... "How?" she croaked. "Did she not want to be shielded?"

Anders finally managed to speak. "Something took my glyph down," he said. "Red light. Then, in the next second... the assassin's bolt."

"Red light?" she exclaimed. "A mage? What mage would side with this?"

"It could have been some sort of weird rune," Varric said hurriedly. "Not necessarily a spell. I think there were two people, though. It was just too fast for one to take the glyph down and then aim a perfect hit. No offense," he added at once. "I'm sorry for putting it that way."

Caitlyn's expression hardened. "I want the assassins' heads decorating the gate. Or perhaps the Gallows walls," she said. "Where are they now?"

Aveline and Donnic exchanged uneasy glances. "We couldn't find them," she said. "They were hiding in a building—that's where the projectiles came from—but the guards searched and found no one, not even the weapons."

Caitlyn took a deep, angry breath, trying not to explode at them. This was not their fault, and they had just witnessed a murder. "Search the city until you do find them. This is your top priority."

"Understood, Your Grace," said Aveline formally, nodding at once. She and Donnic bowed to take their leave and, with Varric following, left the couple.

"Where is Mal?" Anders finally managed.

"In his room with the dog," Caitlyn said. "The seneschal told me and I didn't want him to see..."

Anders gave her a tight hug, a sob escaping him as he did. As he embraced her, Caitlyn began to shake. Her eyes grew hot with tears and a lump formed in her throat. "Anders," she whispered next to his ear. "Anders—this is my—"

He did not want to hear her finish that sentence. "No, it isn't," he said firmly. "Don't think that."

"Meredith did hurt someone else," she said in another whisper. "You warned that she would, and she did. Even if it was another who actually shot her." She broke away and wiped her eyes, unable to look at him. "Selby had no family except her sister. I want her out of that Circle," she said, her voice suddenly hard again. "I don't care who has a problem with that. I don't care if she won't feel anything about her own sister's death now." The mere thought of it, of Tranquil being denied even the ability to experience grief for those they had once loved, sent Caitlyn's rage to a towering inferno. "She is the only family left and Selby would have wanted her at her pyre. Maker, Anders... she wanted the chance to talk to her sister again." The tears that she had been holding back gushed forth. "We told her about Justinia's project..."

"And she died knowing that her sister might be restored. That's better than dying without that hope," he said brokenly. "If it succeeds, she will be one of the first people to receive the cure."

Caitlyn nodded, closing her eyes. "Yes. We can at least do that." She gazed one last time at Selby's wrapped body before turning aside at once. "I need to be alone." Without waiting for him to respond, she stepped aside and trudged back to the inner Keep.

Anders wanted to follow her, to comfort her, to share the pain... but he understood that sometimes one did need to be alone. He waited until she was inside the inner Keep before heading in to find his son instead.

Mistress Selby's final speaking engagement had had a large crowd, and word of the assassination spread quickly across Kirkwall—along with the news that the assassins had taken advantage of the large, frightened crowd to blend in and escape. The fact that guards had been present at the speech and had still been unable to prevent the assassination also made the rounds quickly, and the people of Kirkwall, well accustomed now to acts of protest and vigilantism, reacted. By nightfall, a group of armed people had gathered at the Keep.

Aveline stormed into the outer Keep angrily after practically shoving her way through the vigilante guard clustered outside. "Where is the Viscountess?" she said to Seneschal Bran. "Does she know what is going on out there?"

"Her Grace has not left her quarters since the news came," Bran replied. "She requested not to be disturbed for any reason short of the death of a friend or an attack on the Keep, which this is not. They... are on her side, in fact."

"They are vigilantes gathered outside their ruler's house with weapons."

"Be that as it may, the Lord Consort has said that they may stay for now."

"I see," Aveline replied coldly. That explained a lot. "Then in that case, I hope that Her Grace 'recovers' soon."

"Have you a message for me to take for when Her Grace does appear again? Were you able to find the assassins?"

"No. We weren't. Hopefully by the time she comes out again, I will have better news for her." With that, Aveline stomped off toward the guard barracks.

Caitlyn had locked herself inside her private study, accessible only from inside the master bedroom, and she had even warded the door to be sure that no one disturbed her. She had not cast veilfire or activated the fire runes on the dwarven lamps, leaving the room dim, the furniture casting shadows that were long and black. Left alone with only the crackling of flames in the fireplace for company, she stared into space, her thoughts increasingly bitter and dark.

Anders was right, she thought over and over. He said that Meredith would hurt someone, and that is exactly what happened. It would not surprise me in the least if she knew about this. Were we not already worried that Mettin's mob might be returning? If they have come back, if they have insinuated themselves into the population again, there are those among them who could take direction from Meredith. She has hurt someone again. He was right.

It's not like I had no warning. She tried to arrest me for years, stopping only when Petrice became Grand Cleric and declared me free. She did arrest Merrill, and because of it, Merrill couldn't rejoin my Small Council afterward. She then cast a Holy Smite in my presence, knowing I was pregnant. Now, because of her—or people inspired by her, at the very least—a member of my Council is dead.

This is a real blow. Selby was an ally, not a close friend, and her support depended on my getting results for mage rights, but of everyone on the Council—other than Anders—she was the staunchest, the most radical and pure in her ideals, of all, even including Marlein Selbrech. Marlein is an aristocrat. Selby was rich, but she was not titled, and she thought about the lower classes too. I could have forced these recent votes through on my own, but her speeches, her stories, helped people understand why they mattered so much. If I had said things like she did, it would have been dismissed by many as self-interest, since I am a mage, but she was not one. And I wouldn't have had as many compelling stories to tell, either.

With this thought, Caitlyn's mind turned down another, darker trail. Maker! She was the leader of the Mage Underground! What will happen to them now? Surely they have a team structure, a lieutenant ready to take over if anything happened to her. Surely they won't be crippled...

Her mind turned back to its first trail of thought. The situation is untenable and cannot continue. The Mage Underground shouldn't need to exist much longer. This is beyond politics now, and we have to respond as if it is war. If these people came from the Alliance of the Faithful, it is war.

Heaviness filled her at that. I do not want to lead a war, she thought. I have enough blood on my hands already. I didn't want any of this to happen this way. I just wanted to protect my family, to ensure that we were never torn apart again. That was how it all began. I didn't even want to be Viscountess when I first came here; I just wanted to get Mother's house back because I thought that a Hightown address would be enough to protect Mal and me. Then I met Anders again and learned of what he had suffered, and we decided to help all mages so that someday no one else would suffer what we had...

Helping all mages may mean fighting a war.

This realization sank into the pool of her thoughts like an anchor, embedding itself firmly. And war means blood. It means blood and death.

Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the flames. Her hands grew warm, and in one of them, small orange curls of fire vanished in the air, ghostly and yet menacing.

If it is inevitable, then so be it.

Anders finished tucking Mal into bed. Heading back to the master bedroom, he frowned at the sight of the red arcane glyph gleaming on the wall, covering the door to Caitlyn's study. Had she not even had dinner?

"Love, you need to come out," he called gently through the keyhole.

There was a pause, a moment of silence, and then she replied. "Go to bed, Anders."

Concern filled him. "Have you eaten?" he exclaimed. "Mal hasn't seen you all evening! Have you left this room?"

"Go to bed. I'll come out when I am ready."

That told him all that he needed to know. "Caitlyn! Open the door!"

"Or what?" she snarled back.

He took a deep breath. "Or I'll blast through."

Another pause. "You wouldn't dare."

He picked up the nearest staff and held it at the door. He did not want to do this, but she was worrying him by sealing herself away like this for hours. She had not even seen the murder, while he had. What was she doing all this time, alone with only her dark thoughts for company? It frightened him, and he prepared to cast a spell that would tear down her glyph, knowing that it would also destroy the door.

The first blast of cold struck the door, rattling it on its hinges. The red lines of the glyph faded slightly. Through the door, he heard her spring to her feet, cursing angrily. He readied a second spell.

Before he could cast it, the glyph disappeared, and the door opened sharply. Caitlyn stood before him, furious. "Anders!" she exclaimed.

He dropped the staff at once and placed his hands gently and loosely on her shoulders, trying to comfort and calm her without doing anything that she might take as confinement or restriction. "I was worried," he said, sincerity in his words and his expression. "I was afraid for your state of mind!" The rage in her face calmed slightly as he gently steered her to the small sofa next to their bed. He pulled her down to the seat and sat right next to her, not letting go. "Please," he said, "talk to me about it, whatever it is. Don't shut yourself away like that. I am here for you."

Most of her anger melted away. Sighing deeply, she stared past him. When at last she was able to speak, her tone was low and bitter. "I believed that what I was doing was succeeding," she said, still unable to look him in the eye.

He noticed it. "Look at me, darling."

She hesitated again before finally mustering the nerve to do so. "I thought I could achieve our goals without more blood being spilled. I believed... and now she is dead because of my foolish belief."

"It wasn't your fault," he said. "She knew the dangers and took them on anyway, and her work made a lot of difference for mages—the Mage Underground work and her speeches. She left a legacy, and she was brave. Brave people sometimes die, and they knew they might. Let her have her courage, Caitlyn. Don't blame yourself for this. We'll find who did it."

"That's not the point," she said wretchedly. "Does it even matter if we do? You were right, Anders. I had already realized that you were right about wanting big changes rather than a lot of small, gradual ones, but I think you were right about everything."

Is she talking about that argument we had about assassinating Meredith? he wondered. "What do you mean, love?" he asked.

She sighed again. This was a hard, complex subject, and she had spent the greater part of the evening trying to sort out what it meant to her, what she thought, and why this hurt her so much. "I have always been a confrontational person," she said. "Even in Lothering, I said what I thought."

He managed a weak smile. "That you did. I distinctly remember some things you said in those days that rather shocked me with their bluntness."

She could not smile back. "It is my nature to want to say exactly what I believe and to fight for it... but I lost my taste for fighting physically and violently after I came to this city. I had to kill people, Fereldans, who turned to crime because they had no other choices, and I realized I could have been one of them. Was, for the first year, when I was a smuggler. I didn't like doing it."

He held her gently, letting her get it all out.

"Then I had the ambition of becoming Viscountess and made the deal with Petrice, and I realized that I couldn't say exactly what I thought all the time if I wanted to keep her support... and later, of course, other allies too. That's politics," she said, managing to inject a wry tone very briefly. "And of course, as a mage, I couldn't get what I wanted by fighting and violence either—not as Viscountess, at least. But this aspect of my personality, the combative, confrontational side, was always there. I was just able to satisfy and utilize it by trying to get the best terms for myself when I compromised with allies, and exerting power over my enemies, political or legal power. Some of it was abuse of power," she said sheepishly, "but it was still peaceful whenever possible." She leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. "And I really believed that this way could work."

"It has worked," Anders said. "You got some major reforms through."

"They have been challenged, they are now at the mercy of a Divine who has been cautious, and the person who was instrumental to getting popular support for them just got assassinated. I followed the rules... I was aggressive and confrontational within the rules, but still followed them... but Anders... Meredith and her supporters don't think the rules apply to them." Her gaze hardened as she looked up to face him again. "And there is only one way to deal with people like that."

"What are you saying?" he asked quickly, his heart beating. Did she mean what he thought she meant?

She took a deep breath. "I am saying that I think you were right about everything, including that peace is no longer an option. Meredith did not shoot that crossbow or whatever weapon took down your glyph. She may not have directed the attack on the clinic either. She has supporters who will do those things because they believe in those views, and there is nothing I can do to change their minds. Does it matter if I arrest and execute one or two? Does it even matter if Justinia does sack Meredith? Elthina isn't Grand Cleric, but it hasn't stopped her from causing trouble. I still want Justinia on my side if war breaks out... but I don't really see it as an 'if.' It's coming, Anders."

He thought about what she said and tried to gather his own thoughts before replying. "What do you want to do?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know. This isn't only about the cause of mage rights. It's also about our family, about protecting our children. If I had no children, if I didn't have Mother or Carver or you, then... I might consider very extreme things."

"You wouldn't have needed to protect me. I would have been with you."

She chuckled darkly. "All right, if we didn't have Mal and this little one, and if Mother and Carver had died... then sure, you and I could have, I don't know, blown up the Gallows together and run for it."

His eyes gleamed in dark amusement at that idea. "How romantic," he teased drolly.

"But we have our family to consider. I want to protect all of us, not endanger them with a rash act, but they are already in danger, and inaction will not protect them either." She leaned against him. "I am preparing myself for the idea of fighting, but my biggest fear is that the spark of war will be the loss of someone I love, and I cannot accept that."

"Of course not. Are you hinting that you want to retaliate and spark it that way instead?"

"I just hate the waiting," she burst out. "Once I have accepted this idea, that dark, confrontational part of me just wants to have it over with."

"I understand. That makes perfect sense to me. I know how it feels, love."

"I thought you would," she whispered. "But I don't want to be on the wrong side of an Exalted March. The idea is that we win any fight we start."

"We didn't start this," he pointed out. "As you said, you tried to follow the rules and do this peacefully and politically. They are the ones breaking traitors out of prison, distributing calls for insurrection, blowing up clinics, trying to make you miscarry, and killing members of your Small Council."

She considered that. "You're right. Again," she added with a smile. "All right. You've helped me sort out what I think. Peace is no longer a chief goal for me and I do not really think it is a realistic one either. Maybe it never was. I will not restrict my choices with the aim of preventing war. But I will restrict my choices to protect this family."

He pulled her close and rested his cheek atop her head. "On that note, there are vigilantes outside the Keep. They support us," he assured her when she moved sharply in his arms, "and I have told them that they are welcome to stay. I think we should have all the protection that we can get."

"I agree. If they are here tomorrow, I will speak with them." She gently extricated herself from his embrace. "I should tell Mal good night if he is still awake."

"I think he probably is," Anders said with a smile.

She caressed the side of his face. "Thank you for talking me through this."

The next morning, after breakfast and before anything else would occupy her time, Caitlyn headed to the outer Keep with Anders and asked to have the leader of the vigilante group brought inside—disarmed—to meet with her. She could not disguise her surprise when that leader turned out to be Alain.

"You weren't here yesterday," Anders said, also surprised.

"Indeed I wasn't, Your Graces," he said. "It was a disorganized, leaderless group when I came. I learned about it overnight and decided to join them today. They set me in charge." His face was set and angry, though obviously not at Caitlyn and Anders.

"What is the group's objective?" Caitlyn asked. "If it's to lodge a petition to bring the killers to justice, I assure you, we are furious about Mistress Selby's assassination too. She was a close ally and this has left us in shock—but has not crippled us from acting."

"We know," Alain said. "We are here to protect Your Graces, in fact." He lowered his voice so that no one could eavesdrop. "There are a few apostate mages in this group, as well as the other two."

"Other two?"

"A group gathered overnight at the Chantry and a third at the Gallows. We consider you 'our' Viscountess, especially us mages and those non-mages who have mage relatives and friends. I mean... we are your subjects, but we also see Your Grace in a more specific way, because of everything that you have done, and we want to protect you and your family." He considered for a moment as Anders and Caitlyn exchanged surprised, flattered looks. "All sorts of people came to the Keep steps overnight. The more religious ones see the Grand Cleric in the same light, as someone to protect. They see her as someone who identifies real threats to the faith even when it means a hard fight and sacrifice, rather than making a scapegoat out of mages because we are easier to attack. They have largely gone to the Chantry, and the Templar Ser Keran has taken over that group."

"And the Gallows group?" Caitlyn said. "Somehow I am guessing that they have a different motive, since you are here and Meredith is the only 'leader' there now."

He suppressed a wry smile. "They certainly do. They are demanding her resignation." He glanced around quickly. "Grace is the leader of that group, but Ser Thrask is part of it."

That surprised them. "Is he still a Templar?" Caitlyn exclaimed.

"To my knowledge. I don't think she knows he is in it. He told me that he volunteered to leave the Gallows to 'stand guard,' but he's with them."

"She hasn't tried to get rid of them?" Anders asked.

"They haven't been violent or trespassed inside. They're making a petition of sorts, staying in an area under city authority. Thrask has kept the peace."

"That's good," Caitlyn said, surprised. "And what of the Guard-Captain? I heard that she was none too pleased with the group's presence last night. Did she change her mind, since you are here?"

"I'm here in my capacity as First Enchanter, not as a member of the Arcane Guard," he said, his face closing up. "She still is not happy."

"The City Guard proved itself unable to protect Mistress Selby, a member of the Viscountess's Small Council," Anders said harshly. "Perhaps she should bring in the killers, if she wants to restore faith in the Guard."

"Well, that's Your Graces' concern, of course," Alain said. "For my part, I will just continue to control the Keep group, so long as you want us here."

With this, the interview seemed to be at an end. Caitlyn dismissed him to the steps to resume overseeing the vigilantes there. She was a little concerned about the Gallows group, since they were not there to "protect" anyone and the leader was a person who had a history of being associated with violence, but she supposed that was likely why Thrask had decided to step in. And the truth was that she was nervous about leaving the Keep, since her enemies now had the ability to take down a magical glyph barrier with a single shot, and she had no idea what such a weapon even was, let alone how to counter it. She decided to leave the Gallows protesters be for now and talk with Aveline.

Aveline was in the barracks, filling out paperwork, an expression of fury on her face even before Caitlyn and Anders entered.

"I know he is there," she seethed when Anders gleefully related Alain's involvement to her. "I don't like it a bit, and I am considering dismissing him from the Arcane Guard."

"What?" Caitlyn exclaimed. "He would be sent back to the Circle if you did that! Aveline, we are friends, but I am also your Viscountess, and in that capacity, I forbid it. Unless you have a very good reason." When Aveline's eyes narrowed even further, Caitlyn continued, "What is your problem with these groups, anyway? I'm told that they have not been violent. Is that false?"

"Not that I know of," Aveline said tightly. "Yet."

"Then what is the issue? Do they interfere with guards' duties?"

"No. But they are insolent to the official guards, sneering that they have to protect you and the Grand Cleric because we 'obviously cannot.'"

"Being verbally insolent to the guards isn't illegal if they are not interfering with you."

"They are lawless vigilantes!" Aveline finally burst out. "They are usurping the authority of the rightful City Guard, and the presence of such a prominent member of the Arcane Guard makes it appear that I approved it! It makes it appear that we are working together, which makes me answerable for what they do, in people's eyes—but I cannot actually give them orders. You must see the problem this poses, Hawke. You will be held accountable for them too."

"That's fine with me. I trust two of the three leaders, and the third group is a protest, not 'vigilante protection'—and someone else I trust is watching it. Petrice has taken ownership of the Chantry group; they are her problem. If the ones here at the Keep do anything wrong, I'll deal with it in the same way that you already deal with improper behavior by individual guards."

"You will put your faith in self-appointed vigilantes rather than the Guard?"

Anders spoke up before Caitlyn could respond. "They are loyal to her," he said hotly. "They are 'self-appointed,' here voluntarily, because of that loyalty. The City Guard may or may not care about our family's well-being."

"You are implying that there are guards who might allow the Viscountess of Kirkwall to be assassinated," Aveline said in icy tones.

"Her predecessor was assassinated despite having guards around," Anders retorted. "Vigilantes prevented the Qunari attack from being even worse than it was, while the guards couldn't stop the Keep from being taken. And his predecessor was handed off to Meredith Stannard. There have been problems through the years with treason and corruption in the Guard. You can't deny that, since you found many of them yourself. I worry that you might not have found all of them. What if Meredith has zealots there?"

"Are you questioning my competence?" Aveline demanded.

Caitlyn interrupted before this could get any worse. "That's enough, both of you," she said repressively. "The vigilantes outside the Keep and Chantry apparently are not getting into fights with anyone, nor are they interfering with the guards. They are expressing their support, and it's an additional layer of protection. I'm not going to order them away."

"The Gallows group isn't protecting anyone. They are protesting."

"They have the right to do that. Look, Aveline, all that these people want—the ones at the Keep and Chantry, at least—are the murderers. If the killers can be found and brought to justice, if their weapons can be confiscated so that we can learn how they did what they did, these people might see their confidence in the City Guard restored. But if you make them your enemy while the killers walk free, it will only make it worse."

Aveline looked defeated, but she could not argue against Caitlyn's logic in her final point. "I'm doing the best that I can," she said. "I really am, Hawke."

"I know," Caitlyn said in softer tones. "It's hard on all of us. Let's try to be aware and control it."

After spending a blessed half hour with Mal in the family quarters, Caitlyn accepted that she had to go about her duties. She hated seeing Anders and Mal off to the clinic after the horrible event yesterday, even though the search rule implemented after the attack was still being enforced and the vigilantes guarded the Keep beside the City Guard. I need to get to work, she thought, suppressing the pang in her heart as they closed the doors to the clinic behind them. They will be fine. I have a lot of work to do after... what happened. Sighing inwardly, she headed to her office—not the private study, but the office that was accessible to the seneschal and other officials. It had a window... and after a moment of consideration, Caitlyn prepared to cast a glyph at the glass from the inside. The office was three levels off the ground, but better to be too careful...

A raven with a letter attached to its leg was perched on the windowsill.

Surprised, Caitlyn opened the casements to free the bird of its burden. She intended to find something to feed it, but after its rest, it was ready to take flight again and did so. She turned to the letter. It was short and lightweight, and it bore a thin wax seal with a sigil of a nightingale. She quickly checked it for spells before popping the wax.

.

Your Grace,

I know this an unexpected messenger, but I have trained them and I know it will find its way to you safely. It is urgent that I tell you the truth about news you will hear in coming days.

Divine Justinia has received the challenge to your new policies from the so-called "Alliance of the Faithful" clerics. Although she applauds what you have done, she regrets...

.

Before she even finished this sentence, anger filled her mind, and her hands began to grow warm with burgeoning flames.

.

...that she must put the two policies, those allowing Circle mages to live outside Circle quarters indefinitely, on hold for doctrinal review. She has directed trusted archivists and scholars to pore through old tomes and documents to find a text to affirm these laws. She approves of what you are doing, Caitlyn. She just wants to be sure that her endorsement is fully supported by Chantry documents so as to avoid a pretext, even a contrived one, for a northern schism. They are getting bolder in how they speak of her, even using the term "anti-divine."

You may share this with Anders, but please keep it secret from others. I must once again ask you to keep the faith. You are not alone.

Leliana

.

Even in the tumult of anger, frustration, and an understanding of Justinia's reasons that was obnoxious by its very existence in her thoughts, Caitlyn had the presence of mind not to leave this behind. She went to her bedroom and shuffled through her wardrobe until she found a loosely fitted set of old clothing from her days as a Lowtown vigilante. Stuffing the letter into a pocket, she grabbed a staff and headed to the guard barracks.

Aveline was surprised to see her again, but did not question as she helped herself to several stuffed training dummies. The guards had plenty, and they were easily created from scrap materials. Caitlyn dragged them to the stone-walled room where Mal practiced and set them up in a corner. She took a deep breath, imagining that they were her opponents and that they were screaming, pleading for their lives before her—that they were in her power, primal and pure magic power, uncomplicated by worldly institutions. I would do it, she thought. I would now. She focused her fury in her mind and cast a fireball.

Anders found her there later, facing a soot-blackened spot on the wall, the rag dummies burning and charred. Sweat coated her face and dampened her hair. Her usual finery was nowhere in sight, and instead she was wearing a simple set of black cotton and leather that fit loosely except around her pregnancy bump. Flames crackled from her palms as she gazed at him. Her appearance was striking and brought out a surge of desire in him, but he knew that this wasn't the time, unfortunately.

The flames in her hands grew to a fireball, which she promptly heaved at the same blackened spot, knocking the dummies over. The fireball dissipated in a wave of rippling flames.

"What did the dummies do to you?" he said, trying to crack a weak joke.

She heaved a breath and took the note out of her pocket, handing it to him wordlessly and observing as he read. His eyes narrowed, and a crackle of spirit light passed over him. He let the note fall to the ground and then, in the next moment, blasted the corner with a fireball of his own.

They threw a few more fireballs to dispel their fury before finally falling into an embrace. She threaded her fingers into his hair and felt his arms around her shoulders. "When?" she said. "How much longer?"

He wished he had an answer.

The official post was delivered by courier that afternoon. Among the myriad of petitions and official correspondence that was not urgent was a letter from Amaranthine, bearing the griffon seal of the Grey Wardens and written in a familiar hand. Caitlyn quickly popped the seal and read it, carrying it into her family parlor as she did.

"What's that?" Anders asked as she entered. He was casting a healing spell, with Baldwin as the patient. The mabari had stepped on a sharp stone at some point. Pounce watched, his tail flicking back and forth, seemingly enjoying the dog's momentary misfortune.

"Carver is visiting for Satinalia," she explained.

"Oh. Well, that's nice, but it's less than a week away. Do we need to do anything to accommodate him?"

"He's staying with Mother."

"Does he know that the city is in turmoil yet again?"

"He'll find out," she said grimly. "It's pointless to write back telling him, because the letter won't likely reach him in time before he leaves."

"I'm glad to see him anyway," Mal chirped. "Satinalia is fun. I like it almost as much as my birthday."

"Why almost?" Anders teased.

The boy made a show of pondering the question. "Because I get my favorite food on my birthday," he said slyly.

"Rascal," Anders said affectionately, fluffing his son's hair.

Caitlyn smiled tenderly. Although she had an inexplicable bad feeling about Carver's visit—or perhaps about the holiday—she was still glad that, despite the darkness of the recent days, Mal was still able to enjoy holidays and make jests. She made a silent vow that she would hold a fun Satinalia party, just for her family and closest friends, and try to forget all else for that brief time.

Aveline had no good news to report the next day. The guards were no closer to finding the killers or their weapons, and it was clear to Caitlyn that this fact frustrated her friend deeply. She tried to ignore Aveline's obvious irritation, knowing that it was not really directed at her.

Anders did have pleasing news. "Alain is letting the vigilantes escort patients safely inside the Keep," he said. "They're worried that anyone who supports us will be targeted, even someone just seeing Healers, so they bring people in under guard. He told me that the ones at the Chantry are doing the same there for people who go to that clinic."

"That is nice of them," Caitlyn agreed, smiling despite everything.

"There are a couple of them also scouting Darktown and Lowtown for people who are ill but who are afraid to come. These are good people."

"I never said they weren't," she said, her smile growing broader.

"I know," he said softly. "I just hope that the Guard-Captain recognizes that she was wrong."

Aveline glowered. "It's good that these two groups have not posed problems. I am glad to be wrong about them... so far."

"What are the ones at the Gallows up to?" Caitlyn asked. "The same?" Official news of Divine Justinia's order placing two of the new policies on hold had not yet reached Kirkwall, so her foe could not gloat, but it was clear that Justinia was not yet ready—if she ever would be—to sack Meredith as the protesters wished.

"I am glad that you asked," Aveline said pointedly. "There was an incident there this morning that Ser Thrask had to calm. Meredith came out, and they began to throw rotten food and clumps of mud at her."

Anders muffled a snort of laughter.

"It's not funny," Aveline said. "Meredith tried to order their arrest, but the leader, Grace, challenged her to fight them if she wanted them gone."

"Which I presume didn't happen," said Caitlyn.

"No, she issued a threat of her own and went back inside."

"Too cowardly to take on a crowd alone, then," seethed Anders. "She doesn't mind attacking pregnant women when they are relatively isolated, or dragging elves out of their homes."

"You should not want a fight," Aveline said harshly. "As I said, I am glad that the ones here and at the Chantry are behaving decently and helpfully, but this Gallows group is something else, and that Grace is very arrogant."

"We don't want her actions to reflect poorly on us," Caitlyn interjected. "I will write a statement and send it with you, Aveline."

Aveline nodded, pleased that Caitlyn at least agreed about this.

After she had returned to work, Varric approached them more discreetly. Caitlyn realized that he wanted to talk alone and beckoned him into an office. "How long are you two going to stay indoors?" he began after the doors shut.

"I don't know," Caitlyn said. "I know we can't stay indoors forever, but I am not comfortable going out this soon, with some unknown weapon that can take down magical wards in a killer's hands. And the other weapon was a crossbow. I wouldn't even see an attack coming. That is what scares me."

"And she is seven months pregnant," Anders defended her, "and very recognizable. Your hair is beautiful," he said to Caitlyn apologetically, "but it's also unusual and distinctive. Between that, the baby bump, and the staff on your back..."

"Then I suppose I am finally being cautious and not endangering myself."

Varric chuckled. "Point taken. But something has come up, on top of every other bloody thing going on here. I've been contacted by someone looking for Daisy and who thinks, rightly, that I know where she is. Haven't given her up."

"What?" Caitlyn said. "Who? It had better not be a Templar again."

"It's an Antivan Crow master. He is hunting a former Crow who left the guild and is hiding out with the Dalish. This runaway seems to have been one of the Hero of Ferelden's companions during the Blight, allegedly. Did the pure, noble Lady Cousland really hire an assassin?"

"Not really. I joined after he had left," Anders said thoughtfully, "but there was a Blight companion who had been a Crow. He had been hired to kill her and swore loyalty to her instead when she defeated him."

"Then perhaps you should find these Crows and get them to let him alone, and Daisy too," Varric said, "or conscript him into the Wardens, if nothing else." It was perfectly clear to Caitlyn that he wanted to get Anders something to do so that he would not take it into his head to visit the Gallows protesters, but in truth, Caitlyn could not fault Varric for that plan.

Anders looked from one face to the other, guessing what they had in mind, but it did not bother him. Another idea had entered his mind, and he regarded this as a good opportunity. "I'll go," he said. "It'll be a nice change."

When Anders set out to meet with the Crows and their target the next day, he did not go alone, but instead invited all of Caitlyn's friends to go along except Aveline—even Fenris, despite his dislike of the man. He did not actually expect Fenris to agree to go with a group that he would lead, but to his surprise, Fenris went too.

The Crow boss who had sent out a squad to try to apprehend Zevran, the former Crow who had joined the Wardens' party years ago, was an Antivan named Nuncio. He had sent requests to Varric seeking "help" in apprehending an assassin who was trying to claim sanctuary with the Dalish on the mountain and believed Varric had the connections to get in, having heard of "the Viscountess's little Dalish friend," as Merrill put it with an angry sneer. Varric had known immediately who Nuncio was due to his underworld connections.

Anders had heard some very unpleasant things about the Crows, namely, that they effectively practiced slavery—and often actually did purchase their "assets." A Crow assassin might not have willingly chosen that career, but instead had been bought, trained to kill, and then coerced into murdering whomever the contract said to murder, on penalty of death. And not just for refusal, but for failure, even if—as had been the case with this Zevran—the Crow had survived that failure. Anders suddenly realized why Fenris was exercised enough to overcome their mutual dislike. It was rather disgusting to Anders too. It reminded him of the coercion that tyrants like Meredith Stannard imposed on mages, and he hoped that at least one or two of the assassins would be mages, so that he could make them see that. If we are lucky today, he thought hopefully as they headed up the mountain, we won't have to kill all of the Crows, and even if we are unlucky, Zevran might just get a new job.

"You are admitted because your Viscountess has been an ally to us," said the Dalish sentry, glowering at them—Merrill in particular—as he let them in.

It took some time for the elves to give up the assassin's location, and they only did so after Anders assured them that he was not going to hand the man off to the Crows to be killed, but instead was going to get him away from the clan so that the Crows would not descend upon the mountain and attack. He finally led his companions into the hiding place.

"Ah," said an accented voice heavy with irony, "so I have escaped the Crows only to be captured by city authorities! You do know that prisons are not safe from the Crows, do you not?"

"We're not here to take you to prison," Anders said, coming into the man's line of sight.

A blond elf with a sly expression on his face beamed back. "The surprises never end! You are the Viscountess's husband, are you not... but these are not guards. The Siren would never join the Guard. An unofficial operation, then!"

"It's been a while," said Isabela, her voice very sultry as she eyed him.

Zevran rose to his feet and bowed to her. "And you are as lovely as ever."

"Such a smooth talker."

Anders cleared his throat pointedly. It didn't surprise him in the least that these two knew each other, and he wondered if this might have been the assassin whom Isabela hired to kill her husband... but there was business to do. "Ahem. We are here to get you away from the Dalish—and from the Crows, if need be. I know who you are. You served Lady Cousland six years ago."

"Indeed, and a lovely lady she is too, although she could not 'appreciate' the masculine physique—"

"Watch your tongue," Anders warned. "She was my commander."

"Ah, so you are a Warden." His eyes suddenly became wary. "Is that your intent, to conscript me to protect me from the Crows? I regret to tell you that I... rather do not want to join the Grey Wardens. It is another chain, and I do like my freedom, having found it at last."

"I understand that. Let's just handle your former colleagues, then." For now, he added in thought.

They left the Dalish encampment, Merrill looking sorrowful again as she gazed at Keeper Huon as he bade them farewell. For a moment Anders wondered if it had been a mistake to bring her, but it would have been unkind to exclude her, and she had chosen to go. Perhaps she would eventually come to terms with everything that had happened. He hoped so.

He did not care overmuch about what happened between Fenris and Isabela, but it was interesting to him in a lurid way to observe discreetly as Isabela and the assassin flirted shamelessly in front of Fenris. Curiously, Fenris did not seem to mind. Knowing her, she'd probably ask him to make it a three later, Anders thought, a hint of disgust filling his mind at the image of Fenris intimate with anyone, and he might accept. Maybe they all like to express their love of freedom that way. For my part, I just wanted the freedom to be a mage with a normal life, to love one faithful partner... but maybe they are different. It's their affair anyway.

Nuncio and his Crows, a very large contingent of them, were waiting for the group in their own encampment. Anders quickly scanned the group as he approached. None of them were carrying staves... so no mages, he thought in disappointment... but he was pretty sure he spied tattoos on most of them, marking their enslavement to the assassins' guild. Behind him, Fenris was also glowering at the sight.

Nuncio was furious, immediately realizing the betrayal. He was about to give the order to the assassins to attack, clearly not caring in the slightest that he was attacking the consort to a head of state, when Anders cut him off.

"Stop this!" he exclaimed to the assassins. "You do not have to do as your master bids and kill your brother. You outnumber your master!"

Several of the assassins wavered. Others hardened their gazes.

Fenris spoke quickly. "You are slaves," he said. "I was too. I did terrible things because my master ordered me to—but no longer."

"Silence!" demanded Nuncio. "You all know the penalty for betrayal."

"I am a Crow," said one of the assassins, a better-dressed one with gleaming daggers. Three other assassins quickly joined him.

The rest exchanged swift looks with each other and edged toward the newcomers. In outrage, Nuncio attacked—and with that, the battle was joined.

Anders and Merrill quickly cast magical shields around themselves and their allies, trying to curse the hostile assassins when they had the chance, and targeting the leader most of all. The encampment soon became soaked with blood, for every one of the Crows had sharp blades, and even when they could not land a lethal hit, they could draw blood with little effort. It was too constant and steady for Anders to justify casting group healing spells all the time, as he quickly discovered. Caitlyn could use all this blood to power spells and heal her own wounds, he thought darkly, but she gave that up. And not one of us would have stood for her fighting this battle as Viscountess of Kirkwall and with a baby on the way. I am glad she is safe at home.

But his companions were seasoned and battle-hardened, and they were not without skills of their own. Isabela also knew how to wield daggers, Varric and Merrill could keep to the fringes with him and attack from a distance, and Fenris could utilize his lyrium markings to dash from place to place and attack with great speed.

Anders felt a pang as he saw one of the Crows who had sided with him go down. The Crow master withdrew his blades from the dying man's back and leaped toward Anders. He stiffened, readying a spell to stun Nuncio.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Fenris darted in with an aura of the Fade about him and swung his blade, catching Nuncio's side. The man fell to his knees. Immediately Anders, Fenris, and all who were nearby began to pile on, not giving him a chance to get back on his feet and attack again. With his defeat, the remaining hostile Crows went down quickly.

Anders breathed heavily, as it became apparent that no one else was fighting, and cast a group healing spell. He gazed out and counted. There were eight Crows—former Crows, he supposed—plus Zevran who had survived the fight. They looked uncertainly at each other, unsure of what to do now.

Anders decided to make his offer. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for your help," he began. "If you are concerned about being hunted by others in your guild, I have an alternative: Work for me. You too, Zevran."

Varric glanced at Anders, eyebrows raised in shock.

"Work for you?" Zevran repeated warily. "In what manner?"

"Not what you think," he said, for now, anyway. "One of my wife's allies was assassinated recently. The Viscountess's Keep could use skilled fighters who know how to detect threats and can respond quickly. I can't think of anyone better than Crows."

The ex-Crows glanced at each other, nodding. One of them, a particularly good fighter who had apparently been a lieutenant, spoke for the others. "We accept your offer and pledge our blades to your family's service."

Zevran had not agreed to the offer, Anders noted. Frowning, he approached the elf as the group, now with swelled numbers, began to head back to the city.

"If you are truly determined to leave, I can't stop you," Anders said, "but you will be hunted by Crows wherever you go, and you may not find allies everywhere. If you don't want to be a bodyguard again, what do you say to investigating?"

"Investigating what? Or perhaps I should say who? A certain Templar?"

"Maker's breath, you are irritating," Anders muttered. "You obviously know who. As for what, I want to know three things: Did Meredith Stannard know anything about the plot to assassinate Mistress Selby, did she know about a bomb attack on a healing clinic in my wife's Keep last year, and is she conspiring with a former Templar named Mettin?"

Zevran considered this. "I have heard of these events. It may be difficult to find proof of the latter, unless this Mettin himself comes to Kirkwall."

"If she knew anything about either of the attacks, that's good enough. There are dozens of people who formed a mob of mage-haters and might know if she conspired with their leaders, and they may be back in Kirkwall."

"And if I do find such proof?" Zevran drawled, caressing one of his blades. "You would have me act, no? That is the endgame?"

Anders glowered. "My wife is the Viscountess of Kirkwall. I won't have anyone assassinated without her knowledge and approval."

"That is admirable," Zevran approved. "Very well. I owe you a debt, so I will investigate the Knight-Commander... but after that, I may yet take my leave. I have business to conclude with my former employer."

Caitlyn was shocked and rather hurt when Anders marched back into the Keep with a detail of former Crows in tow, but she recovered quickly.

"Anders," she said, taking him aside out of their earshot, "have you done what I think you've done?"

"I doubt it," he assured her. "They owed me their lives, and I am letting them repay that debt by protecting our family. They have interesting expertise. A couple of them know all about poison detection... some are extremely sharp-eyed... one of them has a pendant with a rune that lets him blend into the shadows... and after what happened to Selby, I just thought..."

She smiled in relief, giving him a hug. "Oh. Well... you would tell me if you told them to do something else, wouldn't you?"

"I would ask you," he said firmly. "It would mean war, and I swear, Caitlyn, I would not make a decision like that without asking your permission."

She pecked his cheek. "Thank you."

"Zevran is going to investigate Meredith," he continued. "He is going to look into the people in Mettin's mob to see what they may know of her involvement in... certain events."

"Good," she said in hard tones. "I've had enough of pretending to respect and work with her. If he finds anything, it is going to Justinia at once."

And let's hope that she will act on the findings of a former Crow, Anders thought cynically.

"You're home!" exclaimed a boyish voice. They broke apart and whirled around to see Mal smiling at them. "Are they really Crows? I want to talk to them." Beside him, the mabari barked and wagged his tail.

Anders laughed. "They are—or were—and yes, you may talk to them, but... your mother or I should be there too."

"All right," he said agreeably as he joined his family.

Anders was immensely pleased with how the deal with the Crows—former Crows now—had gone. He would not trust them enough to let them into the inner Keep, trusting only his and Caitlyn's magic for that, but he still felt a lot safer now with them insinuated into the outer Keep. And Zevran himself was sneaking about Lowtown, or soon would be, looking into the people who were part of Mettin's old mob. If he could come up with hard evidence against Meredith, it would be over for her.

All in all, it had been a successful day, and it became even better when Carver's ship came in and Carver himself stepped off it with his family and Kirkwall friends waiting. A group of guards, vigilantes, and two ex-Crows stood behind, relaxing only when Carver stepped into a carriage next to his mother, sister, brother-in-law, and nephew, and the door was closed behind him.

"It's good to see you, brother," Caitlyn said to him.

He grunted. "Likewise. You're pretty far along, aren't you?" he added, noticing her baby bump.

"Oh, Carver, don't be rude," Leandra chastised, but Caitlyn just laughed.

Beside her, Anders smiled. "Seven months," he said, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist. "And it has been wonderful to watch the changes this time." Caitlyn took his hand tenderly, giving him a quick smile.

"It's a girl," Mal spoke up. "Father has a spell that can show him."

Carver had already known this, but he had no intention of being brusque with his young nephew. That was reserved for his sister and Anders. "So you'll have a little sister in two months. The next time you have a birthday, there will be a new baby and you will be a big brother."

Mal had apparently not considered that particular aspect, and he was struck silent for the rest of the ride.

"I should warn you," Caitlyn said in a low voice, "the city is on edge again."

"I gathered that from the full complement of guards."

"One of the members of my Council—a very close ally on the issue of mage rights, at that—was assassinated in broad daylight a few days ago," she said. Carver's blue eyes widened in shock. "Anders had a magical glyph in front of her for her protection, but the assassin had an accomplice who had some sort of runed weapon—we think—that took it down in one shot. We still have not found the people who did it, and we already suspected that the mob behind the attack on the clinic was back in town. There is a broadsheet from the north that's circulating, too. Be careful, Carver. When you come to the Keep, send a messenger in advance so that you can have an escort too."

The carriage rolled down the streets, where people were setting up Satinalia lanterns, ribbons, and décor. Satinalia Eve was the next day, and people would feast and celebrate for two days—or more. I just hope that no one takes advantage of the holiday to do something else terrible, she thought. It would be a perfect time, while people are feasting, playing, and drinking.

The carriage turned a corner into the more well-to-do quarter of Lowtown. Outside a tavern, several people were raising a large full-face mask made of lightweight wood. Although it was meant to resemble the mask of an Orlesian harlequin, no person would ever wear this mask; it was easily ten times the size of a real one, and it was painted... garishly. In fact, Caitlyn thought as she stared at the object, there was something distinctly unsettling, even scary, about the sharp contrasts of color and outline. Why were the gaps between the teeth outlined in red, like blood trickles? Then there was the manic clown face—more a sinister leer than a comedic smile—and the vast, empty eye sockets.

The group of people lifted the ghastly thing into position, dangling in front of the tavern from the upper floor. Candle flames from inside the tavern flickered out through the thing's black eye sockets, like a demonic mimicry of pupils. Caitlyn turned away and shuddered. Didn't these people see how horrifying it was? In the next second, the wind caught the thing and made it sway side to side. The candle flames seemed to shift from one side of the thing's black eyes to the opposite.

"Do you want to arrest those people for scaring all the children on their block?" Anders muttered in a voice that only she could hear.

"I'm glad it wasn't just me," Caitlyn confessed. She took his hand and squeezed it. Mercifully, the carriage turned and began climbing toward Hightown. As it rolled toward the Amell house to let out those who lived there, she breathed a sigh of relief.