This is really short—sorry—but it seemed like a good place to break. I promise more will be coming soon.
Fenris gripped the edge of the examination table until his knuckles were white. "Lowtown. Her mother lives in Lowtown. That's where I found her." He pushed himself away from the young woman's body and walked blindly across the room. His forward progress was halted when he hit his shins on a crate that had been turned into a makeshift table. His lyrium tattoos blazed brightly, he roared with rage and he put his fist through the crate. Wooden shrapnel shot across the clinic, some pieces embedding themselves into the wall.
"I would have thought you'd be relieved," Anders said. "One less mage on Thedas."
The elf whirled around. "Shut up! She was innocent—barely more than a child. They were supposed to protect her!"
The mage was silent for a long time. He went into a small back room and brought out a blanket. He laid it first on Leah's feet as he carefully brushed her golden hair from her now serene face. Then he folded her arms across her chest and pulled the blanket over her body.
When Anders finally looked up at Fenris, there were tears in his eyes. "Let me see if I can tell you what happened. One of the Templars told her he loved her, that she was special. He snuck her out of the circle because he couldn't stand to be another moment without her. They made love—it was probably the first time for her—and it was wonderful. Until his friends showed up."
Fenris stared at Anders and a cold knot formed in his stomach. He hadn't told the mage the girl's story and yet the man recited it as if he knew it by heart. The sudden realization hit him like an avalanche. Anders was telling his own story and the story of probably dozens if not hundreds of other mages. Young boys and girls torn from their homes and brought a place devoid of warmth and love. Young men and women who were told day in and day out that they were damned in the eyes of the Maker—dangerous and not to be trusted, ever. Mages were feared by those on the outside and reviled by those within the walls that were meant to "protect" them from themselves and Thedas from them. But instead of being protected, they were abused and betrayed day after day, year after year. In short—slaves.
The elf turned away from the mage's accusatory glare. He put his head in his hands. Maker help me, he thought, What must I do?
As if in answer to his prayer, Fenris heard Justice say, "You must dispense justice for this crime."
He raised his head and turned back to Anders. The blue glow was fading and the blond mage looked even more weary than before. "They will be looking for her," he said quietly. "The one who brought her over will no doubt have her phylactery. It will have stopped glowing now that's she's dead, but they'll at least need a body to bring back to the circle and there's probably a trail of blood they can follow. They will come here."
Fenris' lyrium tattoos began to glow. "Let them come," he growled. He pulled his great sword off his back and stalked out of the clinic like the predator for which he was named.