Chapter Thirty-Seven: "…Oft go Ugly, Awry, or Just Plain Flat-Out Wrong"

"So, um," Hrodwynn bit her lip briefly, her steps hesitating just as briefly, as she followed Fenris indoors. They were entering the Chantry through the main double doors, doors so massive they reached two stories, and so covered with ornate decorations of precious metals and gemstones that they must have weighed several tons each—at least by Hrodwynn's estimate. Yet the doors moved silently, easily, as a pair of Brothers opened them for the day, allowing her and Fenris along with other faithful into the sanctuary of the Chantry.

"So, how does this work? Do I just, ah, go up to a Sister and say, Hey, I've got an appointment with Mother Elyse? Will I have to make a donation or something? Recite a bit of chanting or anything of the sort?"

"No, Hrodwynn," he slowed his pace to allow her to catch up to him, and reached behind to take her hand, "You don't have to do anything, remember? I sent a note yesterday to Mother Elyse asking if we could visit with her today. And though I haven't gotten an answer back, I'm sure she'll be able to speak with us. But if you'd rather," he stopped and turned, taking hold now of both her hands, his face somber and full of concern, "We can leave right now. Without a word to the Mother. We can leave here and go home and never speak if this again if that's what you want."

She couldn't stop the nervous swallow as her wide eyes explored the Chantry, thinking that it was exactly what she wanted, but also it wasn't. She truly did not want to be there, surrounded by all the ostentatious drapery and silks, gold and diamonds, elaborate and mysterious ceremonies and rites, and all the Brothers and Sisters. And yet… "No, I know why we're here, why we have to be here, I understand that," she pursed her lips and nodded to herself. "We'll stay. But do they have to stare at me?"

"No one's staring at you," he answered, his voice soft in the large and echo-prone antechamber. "It's, ah, it's me they're staring at. I, um, do come here, from time to time, and they know of me, and it's not like I can disguise myself or hide in a crowd or…"

A nervous little titter escaped her, fluttering around the chamber like a loose sparrow, making her blush over the noise. "Oh, um, right, I forget, there's a lot of business you do for the Chantry, isn't there, like helping with dispensing food to the poor and the like."

"I do hire myself out, yes, and the Chantry has been one of the, erm, businesses let's call them, that I've worked for. So, yes, I am known around here, but…"

"Fenris!" a familiar voice called as they entered the main sanctuary. They both looked off to the side to see Sebastian jogging up to them, dodging around patrons and clergy. He was dressed in armor, however, not robes, and his bow and quiver were slung across his back. "What luck! Did you get the message then?"

"What message?" he answered, "And no, we didn't. What are you talking about?"

"From Hawke," Sebastian answered, already taking a step or two beyond them back the way they'd just come. "He's asking everyone to meet him this morning. Urgent, as I understand it. I thought you might have gotten a message yourself, seeing as mine was not addressed to me personally, but looks to have been copied several times and quickly, without even a greeting or who it's supposed to be addressed to, just the words 'Come to the Gallows at once. Hawke.' written…"

"Alright, I get it," Fenris held up a hand, staving off both Sebastian's torrent of words and his insistent waving at them to follow. "Hawke needs us. We'll go right away."

"Me, too," Hrodwynn started, half a step behind them.

Fenris immediately stopped. "Hrodwynn…"

"This is urgent, Fenris," she argued. "Hawke needs all of us, for whatever reason…"

"For whatever reason," he countered, "I think he can make due without you for once. Seriously, Hrodwynn," Fenris placed his hands on her shoulders, "I would feel better, whatever it is going on this time with Hawke, if I knew you were here, safe and sound inside the Chantry. Besides, you have that appointment with Mother Elyse. That's important, too. Probably more so."

"Mother Elyse?" Sebastian repeated, but neither of the other two were paying him any attention.

"I don't have to," she shrugged, batting her lashes coyly. "You said it, just now, that I could leave if I wanted to. I could go with you today, see what mess Hawke's gotten himself into this time, and then meet with the Mother another day."

Fenris gave her a look, an ebony brow lifted in disbelief. "Is that the real reason? Or are you afraid of being left here on your own?"

"I'm not afraid," she lifted her chin, her emerald eyes flashing, "Not of being alone, or the Chantry, or some doting old Mother who's supposedly been around the block a few times. I've faced down the Coterie on my own; I think I can handle one little old lady by myself."

"That's the spirit," he smiled at her.

Too late, she saw she had stepped into the trap. "Oh, fine, then, yes, alright, I'll stay," she crossed her arms and huffed at an unoffending lock of bangs. "I'll stay here, safe and sound, while you two run off and have all the fun."

Fenris almost laughed, if the reason for her visit to the Chantry hadn't been so serious to begin with. But he did feel better, knowing she would be here, and vowed, "I promise: we won't have any fun without you."

"Great," she hummed, "Fine. So, where am I supposed to meet this Mother Elyse? Does she have an office or private chambers or something?"

"Just wait in one of the pews," Fenris supplied, his eyes flicking upwards at the balcony, "She'll find you. I told her I would be with you, but I also gave her a bit of a description of you, so she should be able to find you when she becomes available. Or ask one of the other Brothers or Sisters, they'll let her know you're here. Either way, I think you can manage on your own."

"Alright, go, then," she gave him a half-hearted shove, "Go have fun, or not fun, whatever. You'd better hurry; it looks like Sebastian is about to piss himself waiting so long for you to join him."

"Language…"

She rolled her eyes. "Sorry, forgot, in a Chantry and all, mustn't be vulgar, got it. But go! Go, before I change my mind."

He shifted close to her, feeling he had to hurry, but wanting let her know how important she was to him, how much she mattered. He took her hands, kept them fast in his, and held them between their hearts. "Amatus."

Briefly she closed her eyes, her ears savoring the syllables, before she opened them and answered, "Fen."

He stared at her, his jade gaze holding her emerald one as fast as his hands held hers. One heartbeat. Two. Three.

Hrodwynn broke the spell first, leaning in to lightly brush her lips against his. "Go," she whispered.

He left.

As Fenris and Sebastian passed from the sanctuary to the antechamber, the Brother commented, "I believe Mother Elyse is in seclusion today, praying and fasting at least until sundown. Were you aware of that? Hrodwynn isn't going to stay here all day, waiting for her, is she?"

"No, I'd no idea," Fenris answered honestly, "But I hope Hrodwynn will stay. She… needs to speak with someone about this."

"It wasn't an affair she's been having then, was it?" His words weren't so much of a question, as of a statement waiting for affirmation.

Which he got. "No, she's not having an affair. It's something far worse. Come on, I'll explain it as we go…"

Hrodwynn heard none of the conversation they were having, already focused on her own daunting task. What Fenris said had been true; now that he was gone, no one was giving her a second look, which made the roguish part of her feel quite a bit better. However, it left her with another problem, how to make herself known to this Mother Elyse, whom she had no idea what she looked like or where to find her.

"A pew," she whispered to herself, mimicking the muted tones of those around her and mindful of making another echoing noise like that giggle from earlier. "Fenris said she would look for us in the pews." Scanning the main floor, she saw it was an entirely open space, not a stick of furniture other than candleholders to be found. Then she remembered where Fenris had looked when he had mentioned the pews, and her eyes lifted, finding the balcony. There was a podium front and center, a place where the Grand Cleric or whomever was preaching could stand and deliver their sermons and everyone would be able to hear them. If there were pews up there, she couldn't see them. She could, however, see two grand staircases that led to that second floor. Neither one of them were blocked off with ropes, or stern-faced Sisters, or any deterrent whatsoever, so she must be allowed up there, right? Swallowing, feeling as if everyone was going to be staring at her again if she attempted it, she nonetheless started up the thickly carpeted steps.

No one batted an eye in her direction.

Feeling a little foolish, and perhaps a little hurt, she scampered up the stairs with as much decorum and respect as she could make herself show. Once she reached the balcony she found the pews, long wooden benches with backs lined up to face the podium. No doubt, she thought to herself, this was where the high and mighty sat during the sermons, the rich and powerful citizens of Kirkwall, the high-ranking clergy, and any visiting dignitaries and the like. She felt like scoffing at first, wondering why they would get to sit up above all the common folk who were standing beneath them, but then she sat down on one of the benches.

"This is… not comfortable at all," she hummed to herself. She tried for a few minutes, wiggling her ass around, lifting one leg then two, shifting her pouches around to brace her back… at one point she considered taking off her shirt to use as a pillow, but immediately thought better of that. She ended up with one boot braced against the end of the pew, her knee cocked and supporting her elbow, her chin resting in her hand as she stared out over the great empty space above the sanctuary. "So, maybe the privilege of sitting up here is the view; it certainly isn't the accommodations."

She sighed, her foot twitching, her fingers tapping her jawline, and waited.

Her patience ran out after only a few minutes. Giving a disgruntled huff over being made to wait so long, she shifted her position and realized her ass had already fallen asleep. Grimacing, biting off a choice and tasty and vulgar curse, she reached around behind her and began rubbing her butt cheek, trying to get the blood flowing again.

"May I help you, my child?"

"Oh!" Hrodwynn started. Having been looking out over the main part of the sanctuary, she hadn't seen anyone come up behind her from the doors and hallways leading further into the Chantry. Immediately she jumped to her feet to greet the women standing before her. "Um, excuse me, ah," she brought her hand away from her backside, thought to extend it out for a handshake, thought better of it, and let it drop to her side. "Mother Elyse, right? I'm Hrodwynn."

"Excuse me, Ser Hrodwynn, but I am not Mother Elyse."

"You're not? Oh, sorry, I was told, well, that she'd find me here, find us here, but then he left, and so I'm here by myself, and…" she gave up, feeling awkward and alone and out of place. Cheeks burning, she shrugged and finished, "Could you let her know I'm here, please?"

"I'm afraid Mother Elyse is… indisposed… for the time being."

"Oh," Hrodwynn actually felt a bit crestfallen for some reason. "Oh, well, that's alright, I've got time, I can wait, if, I mean," she looked back up at the other woman, "If I'm allowed to wait, that is."

The older woman, a Mother of some sort no doubt judging by her robes, smiled and gestured towards the pew. "Yes, of course, please, sit."

Hrodwynn nodded, "Thank you," and retook her painful perch.

The Mother stood there for a moment longer, looking down on Hrodwynn's flickering eyes that never lifted higher than the backs of the pews, and the fidgeting hands that kept trying to hide crippled fingers, and the short red hair that hung in slightly uneven lengths. She also noted the dark clothing, the jingle of metal on metal that came from the odd lumps in her pouches, the pair of knives hanging from her belt as well as the hilt of one hiding inside her boot. She smiled to herself, noting a few resemblances to another rogue she had known years ago, and took a step forward.

"If I may ask," she began, a hand out as if she were trying to approach a wild animal and didn't want to startle it, "What was the reason for your visit with Mother Elyse? Perhaps I could help instead, if you are in a hurry."

"I'm, no, I'm not in a hurry," Hrodwynn answered, though her eyes never rose further than the woman's knees, "I just don't like sitting around, waiting, with nothing to do. Perhaps I should just go…"

"You are free to go, my daughter," the Mother answered, "No one is keeping you prisoner."

The Mother had no idea what it was about her words, but something struck a nerve with the young woman; she could see it clearly as the red botches spread beneath the alabaster skin, as the hands pulled up tight to her stomach, as the shoulders begin to rise and fall with tiny, exerted breaths.

"Hrodwynn, was it?" the Mother tried to soothe her. "Do you mind if I sit? The pews aren't comfortable, I know, but sometimes it's better than standing, at least at my age."

Hrodwynn shrugged, covering her strenuous breathes and masking the nervous twitching of her hands. "Sure, help yourself, there's plenty of room."

"Ah," she sighed as she settled her frame on the pew just a few spots over from Hrodwynn, "This is much better. Hrodwynn," she kept her voice calm, gentle; though she had made the offer for the girl to leave, she had remained, and the Mother wanted to help her if she could. "Hrodwynn, you remind me of someone, a young man, bit a rogue, with bright red hair, brighter than yours," she tucked a wayward lock behind Hrodwynn's ear much like a mother would. "He was a handful when he first came to me. Brash. Full of anger. Hated to be here. He told me being in the Chantry felt like a prison. So," she shrugged, "I helped him escape."

"You, what, helped someone escape the Chantry?" Despite herself, her own troubles, Hrodwynn's curiosity was piqued. "Is even that allowed?"

The Mother laughed, "No, but neither should it be allowed that we force anyone to come here, either to seek sanctuary from their personal demons, or force them to seek the Maker," she leaned over closer, "Or force them into becoming a Brother or Sister. Sebastian was his name," she continued, leaning back and staring at some memory from long ago.

"Not… Sebastian Vael?"

That got the young woman's attention, and managed to help her look up further than her knees. "Why, yes, do you know him?"

"Yes, but, he's a Brother here. How could he be, if you helped him leave…?"

"Because he came back," she answered calmly, "Of his own volition this time. You see, my child, that is how it works. You come, because you're called to come, because you wish to come, not because someone has forced you to come and sit and wait for some Mother who may or may not be free to see you."

Hrodwynn dropped her gaze, her lips tightening a bit, "It… well, it isn't really like that… I suppose it could look that way, but…" She went back to fidgeting with her hands, the whole hand covering the crippled, working the oddly curved fingers as if trying to straighten them. A decision seemed to be made, judging by the sudden set to the young woman's jaw and the emerald eyes now lifting to gaze directly into the Mother's eyes. "You know Sebastian, of course you do, he's a Brother here. Do you know his friend, Fenris?"

The Mother smiled, holding her gaze steady, "Everyone here knows of Fenris. We owe him a great debt of gratitude for his selfless and loyal service. Though he had a bit of a rough start as well." She looked off again, into her own memories, seeing the elf with the imposing armor and odd markings, standing in the crowd without blending in, shifting as if it had been sheer agony to be there in the Chantry. He had struggled with his own personal demons, she remembered, but Sebastian had been as patient with him as she had been with Sebastian. "Why, do you know Fenris?"

"We're lov—erm, I mean," Hrodwynn felt her cheeks burn and dropped her gaze back to her hands, "Really, um, close friends, and, ah…"

"I believe the term you meant to use is, 'lovers'."

"Mother, please," she moaned, "I'm trying not to be vulgar. Fenris asked me to behave, and…"

"And he's not here, so he won't know, will he?" she winked. "My dear child, though I've lived most of my life in the Chantry, I am not so sheltered as to not know how young people live their lives, or love, or speak for that matter. Be honest, my daughter, be yourself; it will make things much easier for you."

"Well, alright, if you insist," Hrodwynn turned slightly to face the older woman, "But if Fenris asks, you did insist."

"I'll take all the blame for every rude word. Now, tell me, why are you here today? Why do you wish to speak with Mother Elyse?"

"I don't know, really," she shrugged, cocking one leg on the pew to rest her elbow on as she leaned forward a bit more towards the other woman. "I guess, well, Fenris wanted me to talk with her. I've got, um, something going on, some problems of one sort or another, and he thought Mother Elyse would be the kind of person who could help me."

"Problems? I see. And Fenris wanted you to be here, but you don't want to be here."

"It's not that," Hrodwynn sighed, "It's just that, well, I know I need help," she swallowed, "And I know I can't get it from Fenris, or any of my other friends," Maker's beard, what would they think of her if she told them, "So if I can get help here, then I want to be here, but…"

"It's complicated." The Mother took a deep breath, preparing herself for yet another long battle with a young person; she truly was getting too old for this. "You don't have to share, my daughter, you don't have to talk at all. We could simply sit here, in silence, if you'd rather. Could I help you? Quite possibly yes. Will I? Without reservation. That doesn't mean, however, that I must, or that you must come here for help. Fenris' good intentions aside, he does not know everything."

Hrodwynn nodded, but the Mother wasn't sure she quite understood. "It, well, I suppose it started with me and Fenris, when we hooked up, and both of us having amnesia, not knowing our pasts, it gave us common ground…"

Once started, the words continued, in fits and spurts at first, but the trickle grew steady, the flow grew stronger, and soon Hrodwynn was sharing everything. Their search for Fenris' sister. Hrodwynn's trip to Tevinter and tortuous captivity. Fenris' rescue. Their issues with being intimate again and trying to put Matthias behind them.

But she shared more than that, more than the obvious hurt and angst. The Mother was easy to talk with, an exceptional listener, one who sat and took everything in without handing out judgment in return. Much to her own surprise and horror and relief, Hrodwynn found herself sharing about her search for a way to regain her past. Coming across Everyone and his poems. Sebastian's theory of the Earl of Edmonte. And more, so much more, of Hrodwynn's sneaking off behind Fenris' back to see Everyone without him, of her keeping Fenris as far away from her quest as possible, and even the more inexcusable… unforgivable… and unrepentant betrayal…

"I feel… jealous… of him," Hrodwynn wasn't crying, but her voice was choking now with her emotions. "He got his memories back; I want mine back, too! I don't want to be left out of this. But… then I feel guilty for feeling jealous. I should be happy for him, that he succeeded, but I don't! Because… because it seems like… because he acts sometimes like he doesn't want to help me… he doesn't want me to get my past back. I know it's not true. I know, he'd do anything to help me, just like I was willing to do anything to help him. And I did, so much… I suffered, so much… I paid, so much…

"But I don't want him to suffer like I did. Not really. At least, I'm afraid that I do, somewhere, deep inside me, that I want him or need him to suffer like I did, but I don't! I don't want that! I just…" she sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve, "I just want my memories back, too! I don't want him to be hurt, though, so I didn't tell him, I tried to do it myself, but he noticed something was up and thought I was having an affair…

"I couldn't tell him the truth. I couldn't tell him, because that would mean admitting that I might be going mad, even though he thinks it too, at least he doesn't think it for the same reasons I think it. But we're both thinking it, and if I tell him the truth, then he'll know it, and there'll be no more denying it, and I'll be insane and we'll be apart and I'll never have my memories or my love or anything…!"

She stopped. At long last, the words were through, her pain-filled soul laid bare. She hiccoughed a few sobs, fighting still to keep them at bay, hoping for something—anything!—from the Mother that would reassure her.

"Oh, my dear girl," the Mother had weathered the rough seas of the other's torment with a steady hand on the tiller. She reached out now, a wordless invitation, and Hrodwynn accepted the offer, wrapping her arms around her, clinging to her as if to a lifeline in that same tumultuous sea. "My dear, sweet child. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to fear. Yes, I know, you feel as if you have betrayed your love, but you haven't; everything you've done has been to keep him safe and free of harm, however foolishly. There's no blame there.

"And as for insanity," she kissed the top of Hrodwynn's head, "Would you believe, the very fact that you question your sanity proves that you are not insane?"

"Um, not really," she blinked and tears ran down her face, "That sounds kind of, I don't know, lame?"

"Well then, how about this: I can personally assure you that you are not mad. Far from it. I know this, because I know what's really going on. You're mortal, that's all; you're like everyone else in Thedas. You make errs in judgment, you make mistakes, and you torture yourself for it. That's quite common," she finished with a bit of a breathy laugh.

"But…" Hrodwynn hiccoughed again, "But I… I feel… I'm so ashamed…"

"I know, my child," the Mother rocked her gently, "I know. I wish I could help you there, but I cannot. No one can help the way they feel. I can only assure you that everything's alright. That there is no betrayal, no madness, no reason to be ashamed. Eventually, these feelings will diminish and you'll feel better. Until then, I can offer you solace."

She blinked again, "Solace?"

"Yes, solace. Sanctuary. Refuge, if you'd like. A safe place to stay and meditate, to clear your mind of your fears, and your heart of its burdens. I would also suggest you speak with Fenris about this, all of it," the Mother tightened her arms in response to Hrodwynn's fearful clinging over her suggestion, "I think you'll find him quite understanding and sympathetic to the sufferings of personal torment. If memory serves, he was once exceptional at blaming himself for things that were not his fault. But that can wait until you're ready. First, Hrodwynn, you need to feel better yourself."

"Right, sure, um," she felt like she should be pulling away, maybe make some sort of excuse to leave, feeling drained and embarrassed and as if she had overshared. The Mother, however, was still stroking her hair back from her face, and wiping the tears from her cheeks with a handkerchief, effectively keeping her from making any sort of retreat, dignified or otherwise. "I do already feel better, I mean, it does feel better to have talked about this. I know I've been scared to say it, to say any of this, out loud because, well…"

"Because you feared that giving it voice would give it power and make it true," the Mother finished. She held the handkerchief in front of her nose and commanded, "Blow. But you see now that these fears hold no mystical ability to manifest themselves. I know, my child, these dark matters can be overwhelming, especially when kept locked up tight within the dark corners of our soul. But bringing them out into the forefront, forcing them away from the shadows that give them power and into the light of day—the Maker's light—we can finally see them for what they truly are: shadows of faded nightmares, nothing more. They have no power of their own, they hold no sway over our selves or our lives, they cannot make themselves real. They are nothing. Understand?"

She sniffed again, but when the Mother lifted the handkerchief, she declined with a shake of her head. "I think so. I guess. A bit. Sure."

"You don't sound convinced," the Mother smiled, "But that's normal. Give yourself time to get used to the idea. You'll feel better soon."

"Right, so, ah, what do I do? Just sit here and, what, pray? Recite a chant or something?"

"If you'd like," she nodded, "Or nothing of the sort. Just sit here and listen to your heart, or meditate and clear your thoughts. Or get up and leave if that would be best…"

"Excuse me, Grand Cleric Elthina," a Sister bowed as she approached them. "Forgive the interruption, but you have a meeting with Mother Madeline in a few minutes."

"Yes, I know," Elthina nodded to the Sister, "Please, let her know I may be a few moments late. If she wishes to reschedule, that would be alright."

"As you say, Grand Cleric," the Sister bowed again and left.

Hrodwynn's jaw was in her lap. The interruption was brief, but the revelation was momentous. "Bloody shite, you're HER?"

Elthina smiled at the slip of the tongue. "I do apologize, Hrodwynn, I must have forgotten to introduce myself."

"If I'd known," she tried to swallow the lump that was strangling her vocal chords, "I'd never have wasted YOUR time…"

"And that, perhaps, is why I neglected to make myself known to you." She brushed back another lock of hair, not that it needed it, but the act did seem to work earlier in calming the other woman. "You did need to speak with someone, and Mother Elyse wouldn't have been available for hours yet, and since I was already here…"

"Oh, shit, and I just swore in front of you. And I did it again! Shi—oh!" She slapped both hands over her mouth.

Elthina gave a soft chuckle and winked. "We're not worrying about the vulgarities, remember?"

"But that was before I knew you were you," Hrodwynn's voice was muffled from behind her hands, her eyes wide and shining.

"Does it truly matter?" she pressed. "Does knowing who I am negate any of this past hour or so? Do you feel like you did when you first arrived here?"

"No, I, ah," she dropped her hands from her mouth, "I still feel better about some things, though really embarrassed I shared all those things with you without, um, trying to say them nicely or…"

"I asked you to be honest," Elthina reminded her. "I wouldn't have done such a thing without knowing what I was getting myself in to. And you are better for it, aren't you?"

"I are," she nodded, "I mean, I am, I'm just… oh…"

"Yes, it seems I do have that effect on people, providing a bit of a shock just by being in the same room with them. Occupational hazard. Here," she handed Hrodwynn the used kerchief, "I don't wish to make you feel uncomfortable, so I'll leave, but I am sincere in my offer. Stay here, my daughter, for as long as you need to, until you feel well enough. Until your heart is eased and your mind is clear of those nightmares you spoke of. Keep the handkerchief, I have dozens of them, and you have more need of it than I."

"Um, thanks," she dropped her head momentarily, then lifted it again to look the other woman—to look the Grand Cleric herself—in the eye. "You are truly a classy lady, your Grace, or whatever you're called."

"As are you, Hrodwynn of Kirkwall, the only thief in the city who has ever broken into a Siggerdson. Yes, I know of your reputation, too, and I didn't hold yours against you, just as you haven't held mine against me. However, if you'll excuse me," she gave a small grunt as she reached her feet, "I suppose I must go and see what Mother Madeline wishes to speak about. When Mother Elyse is free, would you like for me to send her here to see you?"

"What?" Hrodwynn had been rocked a bit by someone like the Grand Cleric knowing about her, but she recovered quickly. "Oh, ah, no, thanks, but I think I'll be okay now. I'll just sit here a little longer, like you said, then I'll go."

"Take your time." She patted Hrodwynn on the shoulder and turned to leave.

"Thanks again," Hrodwynn called out after her, and added a little impishly, "Elthina."

The Grand Cleric gave a little smile and wave before she walked away.

Hrodwynn took a deep breath, the uncomfortableness of the pew forgotten as she tried to come to terms with everything that had happened that morning. It was a staggering amount, all but abandoned by Fenris within the imposing Chantry, being stood up by Mother Elyse, the long talk with… Grand Cleric Elthina! Andraste's bridal veil, but it was too much! She wanted to be numb. She wanted to become part of the wood beneath her and simply cease to be, cease to have to feel and process and take in and react and plan and…

What was it Elthina had said? she wondered to herself. "Just sit and meditate. Clear my head. Yup, that's what I need to do. That, and stop talking to myself.

"But, then again, it is peaceful up here," she admitted, continuing to talk to herself while looking around, listening to the distant prayers of the faithful coming up from below. "And kind of quiet. I can see why some people would wish to stay here… for a while…" she settled herself into the pew, trying to get comfortable, intending to wait there until Fenris returned, "Maybe even forever…"

She sighed, resting her head on the back of the pew, and wondered how much longer Fenris would be.


"Noooooooo!"

Fenris barely registered Sebastian's heart-wrenching wail, or the argument between Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard and First Enchanter Orsino. He hardly noted the chunk of debris that landed less than three feet from him and splattered him with rock and dust. He did sway with the rumbling of the earth as one shockwave after another shook the very foundations of the city—of Thedas!—but he kept his balance through automatic reflexes.

The Chantry… Hrodwynn…

Nothing remained.

"I know what I've done." It was Anders' voice, that hateful mage, that brought him out of his shocked stupor. "And I'd do it again. Without hesitation. It had to be done, Hawke. People needed to be shown, to be forced to see, the injustices being done to mages. I know, it was a drastic measure, but I also know it was going to take a drastic measure to wake the people up! And they are awake now, mages and men alike. There's no going back."

"You ass," Aveline swore, stepping forward as her husband, Donnic, tried to hold her back, "We all helped collect the drakestone and sela petrae you used to do this monstrous thing. You made us—all of us—complicit in your crime of mass murder!"

"I take full and sole responsibility. You all are innocent, thanks to your ignorance of my intentions."

"I doubt any court would see it that way…"

"But the Grand Cleric," Sebastian broke into the conversation. He rose from his knees, his prayers for the dead either finished for now or on hold, "SHE was innocent in this matter. SHE did not take sides against the mages or the templars. Why her? Why did she have to die?"

Anders answered calmly from where he sat on a crate, facing them as if facing a trial, "I know I took innocent lives. And for that I must pay, I accept that, it is only just and fair, to take my life for taking theirs."

"Do it, Hawke," Sebastian pressed, "Anders must pay for his crime. End his life, or I vow here and now that I will return to Starkhaven and raise an army that will level Kirkwall, all in Grand Cleric Elthina's name!"

"What about Hrodwynn?" Fenris at last found his voice, though it had sunk to a level so dark, so full of rage and ire, so devoid of emotion that it sounded cold, colder than ice, colder than the grave. A cloud of dust raised by the explosion was spreading across the sky and had just begun to block out the sunlight, sending a chill through the air and draining the colors from sight. He felt it was all the more fitting and appropriate for his mood; without Hrodwynn in his life, there should be no love, no warmth, no color. "She helped collect the drakestone for you. She was innocent. And she was at the Chantry this morning. She also was one of the lives you just took for you precious cause." He turned dead eyes behind an even more dead expression towards Hawke, "Kill him. Kill him, now, or I will."

"Wynnie…?" Anders at last looked up at their faces. "No… not her… not Wynnie… why… at the Chantry…?"

"Yes, she was there!" Fenris tried to vent his anguish through his words, but it was no where near enough. He grabbed the mage by his robes, lifting him to his feet, raising him higher in the air until his toes barely touched the cobblestones, until Fenris' arms shook and rattled with the strain. "Never mind why, but she was there, in the Chantry, this morning. Sebastian and I left her there to meet up with Hawke at the Gallows. No doubt she was going to wait there until I returned…" Fenris' mouth continued for a few more syllables, but no sound would come.

"Wynnie…" Anders lifted his eyes, soft and sad and heavy, to the top of the city that was now bare except for the dangerous cloud of smoke and thunder and lightening. The explosion had left an odd storm behind, like a mammoth tornado turning eerily slow, spreading itself in ever widening circles over the city, devouring all behind the wall of dust and debris. "She shouldn't have…" He searched, he tried to search, but there was no sign of the Chantry—or life—remaining. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, realizing he never would be able to heal her hand now, Justice or no. "But she was. I accept that."

"Bah!" Fenris screeched, throwing Anders down onto the street. Beyond words, beyond reasoning, he invoked his lyrium, his whole body glowing and casting everything in a bluish-white light, fighting off the increasing dust cloud as he leaned over Anders. One hand, curved into a talon, was slowly descending towards the mage's chest, each agonizing moment drawn out as long as possible.

"No!" Hawke barked. Not trusting Fenris to hear him, he struck the elf a stunning blow with the blunt side of his mace/staff. Fenris reeled back, gasping from the blow to his ribs, his lyrium fading as his concentration was broken, and staggering until he regained his balance. Snarling, crouching slightly to lower his center mass and gain more leverage, he set his sights on Hawke. "Fenris," Hawke held out a warning hand, "Just wait a moment. Let's talk this through."

"Stop, Hawke," Anders spoke, coming to his feet and stepping between the two. "He's right. They're all right. I am guilty."

"No, love," Hawke reached out, his hands cupping Anders' jaw, his brows curving with indomitable emotion as he tried to make himself understood., "No, don't say that. It wasn't you. It was Justice. He… he forced you… tricked you… possessed…"

"That's not true, Garret, and you know it." He smiled, only a small and sad smile, and held Hawke's wrists. "This cause, bringing the injustices of the Circle to light, to change the way mages are treated and therefore change the world, that has always been mine, long before Justice's possession. He only added fuel to the fire, or perhaps a little more than that. But now we are one and the same, Justice and I, and the decision to act, and the acts we took, were ours, not his, but ours—or mine alone, if you prefer, as Justice and I are now fully one entity."

He took a deep breath, pulling Hawke's hands away from his face, and continued, "What's done is done. I do not regret my cause, or my actions. I do regret every innocent life I took. Even Wynnie's. And I will pay for my crime willingly; after all," he gave a funny sort of laugh, half self-degrading, half hysterical, "My death will bring justice to those innocents who died for my cause. Including Wynnie."

He let go of Hawke and turned to face the feral Fenris. "Go ahead; I am ready."

"No," Hawke spun him back and away from the all-too-willing elf. "Anders, Anders, love, if only… why didn't you ever even try to explain this to us? We might have understood. We might have been able to help. Somehow. In some way. Other than," he paused and swept a hand at the chaos growing around them, "Other than this madness."

"Madness," Anders repeated. "Is it, I wonder? Is it madness to stand up for something you believe in? Or is it madness to stick your head in the sand and try to ignore what's happening before your very eyes." He took a step closer, holding Hawke's gaze with an unrelenting force of will. "I've just killed hundreds of people, innocents all, in one single blow. I must pay for that. Let Fenris kill me."

"No." Hawke swallowed, he could imagine the suffering Fenris would inflict, the mess and the gore as he drew out Anders' execution, the glow of his lyrium tattoos as his hand sunk through the man's chest, the expression of hatred and enjoyment staining his features. "No." He took a deep breath and drew out his knife. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, all the people in his life he'd already lost. His father. His sister Bethany. His brother Carver. His mother… now his only love? Was he never to know true happiness? "No," he lifted his eyes up to his lover, "I'll do it."

"Garret, I…" Anders started to speak, but Hawke pulled him close, held him tight in a last embrace. His lips next to Anders' ear barely moved as he whispered something, something that had been whispered to him only once, long ago, in the middle of the night, something so secret and private and personal that Hawke had never repeated it, not once, for fear of cheapening the gift Anders had given him. He said it now, Anders' real name, for the first and only time, before he pulled back and kissed him.

Anders held tight, his arms around his love, his life, as his heart literally broke before the force of Hawke's blade. The stab was swift and sure, entering easily without catching on his robes or hitting bone, leaving behind a clean wound, hardly felt but for the sudden lack of a heartbeat. Even as the light faded, even as his body grew numb, even as Justice/Vengeance shook his soul and broke away… Anders was finally at peace.

The silence was louder than the explosion had been. No one dared to speak. No one dared to even breathe. They all watched, still as statutes, as Hawke laid Anders' body down on the street. Hawke straightened his limbs, smoothed out the wrinkles in his robes, removed the knife, crossed his arms over his chest, closed his eyes, closed his mouth and wiped up some of the blood that had escaped there. Finally he stood, paused a moment to take a last look, and then turned away.

"Right," his voice cracked so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, he's left us a right bloody mess to clean up, so we'd better get going before this gets even more out of hand."

"Hawke, I… we…"

"Don't say it, Varric!" he warned, then realizing he had yelled at one of his closest and oldest friends, he tried to calm himself and explain. "I appreciate the thought, but do not say it! What Anders did was wrong, maybe he had the right reasons, but his actions were still wrong. Lives were lost today, some of them we knew," he looked to Sebastian, but could not bring himself to look at Fenris, "But even more lives will be lost if we don't act quickly, this very moment! I am leaving for the Gallows. Who's with me?"

"Are you stopping the templars or the mages?" Merril asked, quietly, before she sneezed on the dust.

"I'm stopping it all!" Hawke decreed, stating his intentions as plainly as he could manage. "I'm stopping the insanity. First, I have to stop this Rite of Annulment before Meredith destroys the Circle. Then I'll have to stop Orsino before he can do the same. Anyone have any objections, speak now!"

"I'm with you, Hawke," Varric was the first to answer, lifting Bianca from his shoulders, "I think we all are, but don't you want to do something about…"

"Leave it," Hawke commanded, swinging his mace with impatience, refusing to look at the body lying on the street. "Anders is gone, that's nothing but an empty shell. Besides, there's no time to mourn."

'No time…' the words echoed in Fenris' heart, truer than ever. There was no more time, not for him and Hrodwynn, not for those in the Chantry, perhaps not for Kirkwall or the Circle. But he still had time, he was still breathing, and there was still work to do, still a chance to save some of this… disaster. "Na via lerno victoria," he purred, unsheathing his greatsword and reaching Hawke's side. "Only the living know victory."

Sebastian gave a final look over the corpse, his bloodlust sated, but his duty still unfulfilled. "Count me in."

"Me, too," Merril agreed, readying her staff, "As you said, this isn't the right way to do things."

"You know me, Hawke; I get bored easily. I nice little epic battle is just the thing to wake the blood," Isabela drew her daggers. "You in, Aveline?"

Oddly enough, it was the Captain of the City Guard who seemed the most reluctant to join, or perhaps it shouldn't have been so surprising considering he was asking her to leave the city in favor of the Gallows. "Hawke, I don't… I can't just…" Aveline looked around the streets, what could be seen of them, as she tried to make up her mind. Already cutthroats and looters were catching on that they could take advantage of the chaos, the sounds of fighting and screams of victims were echoing strangely through the clouds of dust. She bowed her head for a moment, knowing her answer was clear, and when she lifted her face again her eyes were bright and true. "My duties lie here, but my loyalties lie with you. Donnic! Get back to the Keep. Regroup and organize the City Guard into teams of no less than ten. I know it'll severely limit the areas we can patrol, but I'm betting that a show of force will be enough to deter most miscreants from doing their worst. And ten should be a good enough number to handle those who don't."

"I know how to do my job, my love," he kissed her, "Almost as well as you. Go. Help Hawke. I'll handle the city."

"Make sure," she called out, even as she hastened to catch up with the others, "Make sure there's a city for us to come back to!"

"And you," he added softly, knowing she was already too far away to hear him anyway, "Make sure you come back to me. There's been enough death already today."