"Bethany." The voice as it drifts to his ears is so full of sadness and helplessness that Anders cannot believe at first that it belongs to Hawke. He tears his tortured gaze away from the rows of the dead to catch sight of her approaching the blazing fires in search of her sister. Oh Maker, please let her find Bethany alive. The thought has been spinning around and around in his head in a giant loop for the last hour now, every revolution of it squeezing the panic tighter and tighter until his mind is almost suffocating with the guilt of it.
This had all seemed like such a good plan at the time, a plan that would make everyone sit up and take notice of the plight of the mages. He had grown so tired of the rounds of bickering between the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter. Every time it had the same results. The two would lock horns, eventually involving the Grand Cleric, who would placate them with promises of compromise, until either Meredith or Orsino would reluctantly back down. They would then return to their wary truce until the next time one faction or the other would upset the delicate balance thus restarting the whole cycle over again.
He had tried so hard these past few years to put the whole situation involving the mages in the background, instead trying to focus on Hawke and the joy he felt whenever he was with her. He had never met anyone before that could engender these intense feelings of love and belonging in him as she could. It was an unnerving feeling at first, as he had never exposed his heart like this, instead finding it was so much easier to live behind an acerbic mask of jaded cockiness. He had learned long ago that, in love, there came a weakness that could somehow always be used against him.
During this last year though, no matter how much he tried he could not push down the increasing bitterness he felt at the intensifying maltreatment of the mages, until he was simply beyond the point of not being able to endure it any longer. If there was ever to be change, the chain reaction of it had to be set off with an action the world could not back down from. He had been willing to sacrifice his life for this change to come about, but in his idealistic fervor he had never stopped to think of what the consequences of his actions would mean for Hawke, that in other's eyes she would be painted by the same brush of guilt even though he had been so careful to not tell her of his plans.
He looks up as she moves away from the fire and glances back in his direction, his heart somersaulting as she catches his gaze and returns it with one of concern, but this look only lasts a moment before it is replaced by a hateful bitterness that he glimpses in her eyes in the moment before she turns from him and starts to walk away. His heart sinks as he realizes that she will probably never forgive him for this, in all honesty, that he does not deserve her forgiveness.
As she strides ahead he hears her steel edged voice drift back to him as she addresses the group. "We are wasting time. If we are to leave Kirkwall it has to be now, we cannot delay here any longer no matter what the cost." He can't stand it. He has to try to talk to her, to at least try to tell her how sorry he is. As he catches up to her he manages to blurt out "My love, I'm so sorry" before the resounding crack of her slap lands hard against his face. "Anders, don't do this!" she growls at him, the hate barely contained in her voice. "There is NOTHING you can say, NOTHING you can do that will make this better. Please, don't do this to me right now" With horror he can now see a deep engulfing sadness in her eyes as she tries desperately to hold back the tears, but before he can react, she whirls away from him and resumes her furious pace out of the Gallows and into Lowtown.
