Notes: Thank you for your support of this story! In this chapter, something that was implied (if Justinia's people have spoken against the Annulments and Starkhaven has heard it, that means Kirkwall has too...) is now explicitly detailed. I also lay two major cards on the table concerning the trajectory of this fic—one, a major reveal about how an issue in DA:I will be both similar to and different from canon; and the other, a dark AU development very briefly hinted at in the concluding dialogue of Chapter 82. You know well enough how I write now, what tropes I favor, what my chief non-DA/non-musical literary inspirations are, and after this chapter, it is possible to predict exactly how this war is going to conclude. It's also possible that some of you really won't like it. I understand. I'm doing something with this fic that, it turns out, is actually a great deal edgier than DA2's canon ending.

Song: Falconer – "Hooves Over Northland"


Chapter 86: The Battle Cries Rise High


Your Graces,

Ser Cullen made it safely to Val Royeaux. We have since learned that the mages who mustered at Andoral's Reach, as well as those from the Ansburg and Antiva Circles, have joined your army in Kirkwall.

However, we have dire news to report. The false Divine, Elthina, believed that the Starkhaven and Tantervale mages were conspiring with the Resolutionists and Rivaini mages—and that the Rivainis were planning blood magic—to effect a violent mass escape. We do not know how much of this plot was real and how much was imagined. Word of it apparently came from the so-called "Knight-Commander of Tantervale," a Red Templar named Denam; and the so-called "Grand Enchanter" Raddick of Starkhaven, a longtime Loyalist.

But whatever the truth, the anti-divine acted on the information that she received. She ordered the Annulment of Starkhaven, Tantervale, and Dairsmuid's Circles, and her Red Templar Commanders carried it out. The enemy also overthrew the Chantry in Dairsmuid and seized control of the city.

It is currently believed that there are a handful of survivors from Dairsmuid and Starkhaven, all children. But Divine Justinia was informed by an eyewitness to the Annulment that there were no survivors of the Tantervale Circle.

Your Graces, we are sure this will be difficult to read as parents. But Most Holy wants to spread proof far and wide of the magnitude of evil of which our shared foe is capable. The Templar defector—not a Red Templar, that is confirmed—told a tale of shocking depravity. The Red Templar Denam led that Annulment, with Enchanter Raddick and other Loyalist mages in his force. He commanded Raddick and these mages to participate in the Annulment to prove their loyalty. They did, to a point. That changed when Denam reached the apprentice dormitory at Tantervale's Circle and commanded the Loyalists to slay the children as well.

The eyewitness reports that when Raddick began to plead for the children's lives, Denam beheaded him, then turned on the other Loyalists, ordering their deaths as well. The defector said that they fought for their lives, and that he had to slay a mage in this brawl who attacked him as an enemy. Then, with all the adult mages slain, the force of Templars, Red Templars, and Seekers entered the apprentice rooms and committed a series of horrific acts: Red Templars chopping through wardrobes to reach hiding children, shooting them full of bolts and arrows if they lay on the floor to feign death, beheading them (in whole or—again, we apologize for the graphic detail—in part), shattering their little bodies and heads with barrages of red lyrium. The Templar defector reported that a Red Templar even taunted one child with vile words about begging a demon for help, then cut his feet off. The defector said that this was nothing but torture.

We are extremely sorry to distress Your Graces and to be the bearers of such terrible news. But this atrocity cannot and should not be kept secret. Most Holy will proclaim it to all the lands of the Andrastian Chantry. The defector is giving Most Holy all the names he knows of those who were involved. This is an act of grave evil that spits upon the Maker for being done in His Name.

As Your Graces know, both Ser Cullen and I have had doubts about your cause and your views. We still do. But we also understand your position completely now.

Maker watch over you,

Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of Divine Justinia V

Ser Cullen Rutherford

.

Caitlyn and Anders finished reading the horrifying letter. Her head swam—with despair, with rage, with the burning desire for vengeance. A spear of fury lanced through her at the pictures that this letter had put in her head. She did not want to think of these images, but she also felt very strongly that she should—that she should face this. But as she did, she could not help but see Mal's and Jo's faces on the tortured, murdered bodies of mage children.

It didn't happen to them, she tried to soothe herself as the fury turned to a wave of paralyzing fear. And it never will.

But it did happen to other people's children. Mage children were taken from their parents to that Circle... maybe even parents who thought it was the best thing for them, the holy thing, the righteous thing—and that is what happened: horrific torture and murder.

As the storm of thoughts whirled in her head, she finally noticed Anders. He was also nearly catatonic with outrage and terror, and familiar blue light flashes were darting over his body.

Immediately Caitlyn decided that she would not try to talk the spirit down. They were alone, and this was an event to which Justice—or Vengeance—would unavoidably have a reaction. It was right and proper, really.

No sooner had she made the decision to stand down than the spirit burst forth. Filling Anders' eyes with blue light, Justice raged.

"They are monsters!" he exploded. His eyes blazed even brighter. "Bloodthirsty, torturing, child-murdering monsters! They always have been—Alrik, Karras, Mettin, Meredith... and Rolan! These are no different! They are all the same. They deserve no mercy, and when we go to that place, we must show them none!" He clenched his fist, lightning bolts of magic crackling through his fingers. His face contorted in loathing.

"That is exactly what we will do," Caitlyn agreed darkly.

"If I were in Tantervale, I would tear every one of them apart!" he continued to rage. "I would hunt down every last Templar and tear them limb from limb! I would have them begging for death—and I would not give it to them until I was ready! I would make them suffer twice as much as they made the children suffer!"

This aspect of the spirit was definitely Vengeance, Caitlyn understood—but she didn't care. The vision of Mal and Jo tortured, murdered, their little bodies despoiled, filled her mind again. Those who would do this deserved nothing but bloody vengeance.

His outburst seemed to give him some catharsis, and with that, he settled down. The light faded, leaving Anders in control.

He gaped at Caitlyn for a moment, and she half expected him to burst into sobs, hang his head, or otherwise feel guilty for the outburst and the thoughts that Vengeance had voiced. She was prepared to tell him that he was absolutely right to have thought these things... but it didn't happen. Instead his gaze fixed into a hard, angry glare.

"Justinia is going to spread this," he spat. "Finally, making herself useful. If those two who wrote the letter hadn't said so, I would've been afraid that she would have wanted to hush it up. But no. The Free Mages will learn of it if they haven't already. I can only hope that this will put an end to the murmurs of rival factions and stupid political groups like the supremacists, and unite us all behind the banner of justice and victory."

As Caitlyn rose to her feet, clenching the letter in one hand, she remembered her own rivalry with Fiona. I hope you're right, she thought. And I am afraid that you won't be. I've seen too much of politics to hope for unity.

She tried to collect her thoughts. "We must tell the leaders," she said. "Either of the atrocities themselves or the fact that we only just learned about them, if they know already. We don't want them thinking that we were trying to hush this up, or that we didn't think it worthy of discussion."

"They will want to retaliate immediately."

Caitlyn sighed. "I do too. But we can't yet. I'm still rebuilding our fleet, and we need the Glavonaks to make scores of blasting powder bombs like we had when we broke the siege—and to finish making the rockets."

Anders nodded, considering. "You're right. Do you think the mages' leaders should be told about the rockets yet?"

She thought about that for a moment. "No. Not just yet. I'll tell them about them before we march to war, so they'll know what to expect. But I don't want gossip spreading around too early. The enemy could hear."

He nodded. "We don't want those evil bastards knowing what's coming. And I mentioned, when you went out to Ironbark Ridge to see that first test, that I was exploring variations, other possibilities."

Caitlyn recalled that he had mentioned different sizes and different payloads. "Have you had a breakthrough with something?"

"I think I'm close to one. I'll show you when—if—it becomes ready. I am very motivated now," he added in a snarl. "The idea I have... I had doubts. I don't have doubts anymore. But it is certainly something I'd want kept secret."

"Let's just get this over with, then," she said. "Let's summon the leaders."


Some of the mages had already learned something. A small band of Dairsmuid mage children, led by two adolescents, had made its way to Treviso. The teen mages had sent word to the only place they knew was safe, the Mages' Council of Kirkwall. Petra, Alain, Sketch, Merrill, and the other leaders were on the verge of requesting a meeting themselves just to discuss that Annulment, and they knew nothing of the ones in Starkhaven and Tantervale—yet.

Caitlyn and Anders summoned the Mages' Council, the former First Enchanters, some of the Senior Enchanters, and Fiona. There were more humans in leadership positions than elves, so Caitlyn tried to make up the difference by including a few elves in the summons too, including Lysas, the one who had written to her about the White Spire Revolt.

When the guests arrived, Caitlyn and Anders faced a sea of dour, angry, frightened faces. They exchanged an uneasy look, knowing that this was about to get a lot worse. Grimly Caitlyn read Cassandra and Cullen's letter aloud. Her voice wavered at the violent description of the Tantervale Annulment, but she knew that if these mages did not learn about it from her, they would learn about it through the criers—or the grapevine—later.

When she finally finished, she looked out at the gathered mages. They were horrified, disgusted, and—most of all—outraged. For a moment no one knew quite what to say.

Finally Anders broke the silence. "We will make them pay for this," he declared. "When we are ready—when we know we have the means to crush them—we will march on the enemy, bring every last one of these murdering monsters to justice, and force Thedas to give us our due as people!"

For a moment Caitlyn was certain that his vengeful words would rally their spirits and inspire them to keep fighting. Several of the horrified and stricken faces hardened with resolve after he spoke.

But then a scoff ripped through the air. Former Grand Enchanter Fiona, a slender, short elf whose bearing was nonetheless impressive, stepped forward. Her face was twisted in derision.

"'When we are ready,'" she repeated. "And when will that be? You have been at war with these, as you rightly say, murdering monsters, for three years. Yet they are stronger than ever, more than strong enough to perpetrate an atrocity! 'When we are ready,' Hawke? Anders? How much innocent mage blood will be on your hands from sloth before you are finally ready?"

Caitlyn felt as if she had been slapped in the face. Disbelief flooded her, then, as Fiona's accusation sank in, blinding fury.

"You blame me for this?" she exclaimed as Anders stood defensively by her and the other mages murmured in varying degrees of shock, disapproval, and—she feared—consideration of Fiona's words. "Me, instead of the monsters who actually ordered and did it?"

Fiona pointed a finger accusingly at Caitlyn. "You wear a crown! You are a head of state, permitted to be so by Divine Justinia! The number of southern mages since the Nevarran Accord who have had your privileges can be counted on one hand! You could have used your power to rally mages to your side—but instead you basked on your throne, misruled, squandered goodwill, and sat at your ease for three years! And the innocent mages of Tantervale, Starkhaven, and Dairsmuid paid the ultimate price!"

"'Sat at her ease'?" Anders raged. "We fought battles! We took an enemy stronghold! Some of the mages and soldiers who stood with us bled and died for the cause! Kirkwall went through a siege this winter! And through all of this, Caitlyn has had to fight domestic enemies too, on two fronts—an anti-war movement and a band of mage supremacists who tried to assassinate her!"

A rush of love and gratitude filled Caitlyn's heart at his spirited, heated defense of her. "We've been fighting for three years! What have you done all this time, Fiona?" she sneered.

Fiona evaded Caitlyn's question, directing her reply to Anders instead. "You fought when they got your attention!" she snarled in contempt. "You never went on offense except when you were already nearby at Markham!"

"We were outnumbered and out-armed!" Caitlyn exploded. "Have you ever fought a Red Templar, Fiona? Ever even seen one? Well, we have." She glowered. "The enemy had more ships, more gold, more population, and more soldiers than we did, and many of those soldiers were—and are!—able to counter magic. Maybe you think you'll always win, or maybe you just know nothing about war, but we could not win until we had better weapons and more people! If we'd gone north too early, we would have been destroyed! The fight would've ended then, before you ever got involved at all!"

Fiona barked a quick, derisive scoff. "I was involved before you were out of nappies! I have worked for this cause for well over twenty years!"

Caitlyn glared at Fiona. "Twenty-plus years doing what, though? I achieved more in six!"

"You took advantage of a new Divine! You have no idea what I faced under Divine Beatrix..."

"All right, let's limit it to Divine Justinia's term, then! If you had managed to get your independence vote sooner, we might have had the numbers to make an offensive move! I've been fighting in battle for over three years. Before that, I fought in the sphere of politics for two more. I have been fighting for mage rights in some way since 9:34 Dragon! I'll ask you again: What have you been doing?"

"I have been trying to persuade the College of Magi for years!" Fiona exclaimed hotly. "Do you think it was easy to get this outcome? Do you comprehend the resistance I faced, the difficulties of even getting the chance to hold a vote? The reason the Lord Seeker restricted the College of Magi and then disbanded it was that I was elected Grand Enchanter!"

"That's what you think?" Anders said in disbelief, a laugh of amazement escaping him. "It wasn't about Caitlyn's leadership as a mage, nor the Free Mages mustering for war, nor the example we were setting by living ordinary lives, nor the battles we fought and won? You think it was because of you?"

"I am certain of it!" Fiona exploded.

"Maker!" Anders swore, shaking his head. "The Fraternities and College of Magi were nothing but a game the Templars let us play—and to get us to foolishly give them our own names for persecution! How do you not know that? You think the Lord Seeker cared that you led some dithering council when we were taking up arms and leaving bloodied Templar corpses behind?"

"You and Hawke have played your little war games, thinking they were more important than they were, while the real politicking occurred in Orlais—"

This comment earned a scoff of contempt from practically every mage present who was not Orlesian.

"Of course," Anders said, rolling his eyes. "The belief that the world revolves around Orlais. Orlais has been irrelevant for this war."

"What 'politicking' do you think you did?" Caitlyn snapped at Fiona.

"I don't think I did it; I did it," Fiona replied tightly. "The College of Magi was a fossilized institution full of old men and women who were so frightened of a new world that they would cling to their oppressors even after the White Spire Revolt! I barely won the vote at Andoral's Reach even after everything that had happened."

"I know that, and I'd say that reflects either on your persuasive abilities or on the means that you chose to effect change. I had nothing to do with the College of Magi, and look how far we have come! It seems to me that you chose the wrong institution to bring about change!"

"And yet who persuaded that institution at last? My method was more successful than yours. Did you not notice, Hawke, that you acquired only six Circles to your side, one of those on the battlefield, and another turning only when the enemy knocked on its door? Six Circles would have been a defeat in the College. Circle mages respected the College of Magi as our leadership body. If you think your war was a universal motivator, it was not."

"I'd figured that out, oddly enough, since it took you more than three years to join me," Caitlyn retorted. "But you would have me believe that all this time, you tried to get the others to join my war? The same effort you've expressed such contempt for? If you expect me to believe that, you must think I'm a total idiot."

Fiona glowered back. "Few outside a handful of Lucrosians and Libertarians believed you had a chance. You were not getting the numbers needed, even among fellow mages! At the final vote, I made it plain that we mages had to stand together! You were peeling off a Circle here and there, but not enough to matter! Everyone knew that the Lord Seeker supported the schism. We knew it was a matter of time before he joined them openly. The only question was whether you would get crushed after he did or before!"

"So," Caitlyn drawled as it sank in, "you do know how outnumbered we were. As Grand Enchanter, you were in a position to lead the people who had elected you, to bring hope to them, to combat that defeatist talk and get your people to change those odds by joining me—but you didn't. And yet you have the presumption to blame me for the Annulments because I did not fight on a front that I could not have won."

"I faced resistance, and you are to blame for some of it! The Divine kept hearing reports about the way you have been running Kirkwall, turning your own people against you. She knew what would happen if she threw her open support to a figure like you, so she didn't! And we paid the price for your petty despotism! We were put off, set aside, obstructed, as she delayed because you were so unpalatable."

"Justinia wasn't going to throw her open support to me no matter how I ran Kirkwall!" Caitlyn exploded. "I have it in writing in a letter from the Divine's Right Hand—dated early 9:37. She was never going to send an Exalted March my way or openly avow support for the mage rebellion! How I dealt with traitors and seditionists had nothing to do with it. I can prove what I say. I still have that letter. Want to see it?"

Fiona wavered, apparently deciding that she did not want to see it. She moved on. "But it wasn't just her. The Lord Seeker knew what would happen if the rest of the Circles revolted en masse. He wasn't afraid of you, Hawke," Fiona sneered. "He was afraid of what it would mean if I lobbied the Circles to break away. He shut down the College of Magi because there was at last a Libertarian Grand Enchanter. I had to counter resistance from mage leaders who thought there should be a less outspoken Grand Enchanter to appease him. There was no guarantee that the vote for independence would go in our favor!"

"To the Void with your vote!" Caitlyn exploded, to the shock of everyone present. "In Kirkwall, we had moved beyond votes! There has been a war going on—a war that was being won. Free mages proving that we were right all along, that we could live in the community and control our magic without being locked up. Rebels joining the fight for three years. All of this under the leadership of 'a figure like me.'"

Anders took her hand firmly in support. She smiled briefly at him before continuing.

"Do you want to know what happened, Fiona? I fought an anti-war movement, stirred up by a criminal, that flourished due to a depression and a siege. If you knew anything about war, you would know that privations and discontent are unavoidable. Did I make mistakes in how I dealt with it? Yes, I admit that I did. But I inspired mages to rebel, to come here, and to fight. Thanks to Anders' brilliance, we broke the siege and sent a message. The 'blast heard around the world.' As for you," she concluded with a cold smile, "you talked to people about holding a vote, knowing that the Lord Seeker was an enemy agent and would never honor it, all the while agreeing with the enemy about the supposed hopelessness of my war effort—"

"You dare accuse me of that?"

"You said it yourself," Caitlyn replied. "'The only question was whether I would get crushed after he joined the schism or before.' Your words, Fiona. You even agreed with the claim that my rule harmed the cause."

Fiona glowered back, silenced at that fact.

Caitlyn moved in for the kill. "So, you believed that I was going to fail, and I am quite sure that the people who listened to you could tell. That is a factor in why so few of our fellow mages believed I had a chance. You, their leader, agreed that I didn't."

"Do you suppose that the mages who followed you couldn't figure out that you also believed you couldn't win? That they could not put two and two together about why you did not march north?"

"Yes, I told my War Council that we couldn't win yet, and I'm sure some of the mages deduced it too. But we're free here. They knew that they could develop weapons, devise tactics, train, make allies. That provided hope. But the mages who listened to you were prisoners of the Circles. It matters."

Fiona scowled. "The results speak for themselves. You spent so much time making enemies of your own people that you neglected and failed other mages! The Dairsmuid Circle is nearly destroyed! The Starkhaven Circle, decimated by a fire not even ten years ago, conscripted to serve the enemy, is likely gone! The Tantervale Circle is annihilated to the last child! Even if you couldn't fight on the Minanter, the Rivainis were your allies! They fought for Markham before you arrived, and helped liberate Hercinia. And you abandoned them! You first became motivated because you bore a mage child, but you let mage children be tortured and murdered."

Caitlyn could scarcely believe this attack. This is a woman who abandoned her child and doesn't even seem to regret it. She considered calling out Fiona's neglect of Alistair, but quickly checked that notion. His parentage could undermine him as a king, and he was an ally.

No reasonable person could believe Caitlyn could have prevented this. This had to be nothing more than a cynical attempt to turn the army against her.

But a doubt nagged at her. Unless she really does believe her own words, she thought. And she very well might.

"There was no way for word of the enemy's movements to reach me in time to save the Dairsmuid Circle," she snapped. "I invited them to come to Kirkwall after they allied with us. They had freedom of movement. They stayed."

Anders gave her an alarmed look—and she instantly realized her mistake. But it was too late. Fiona seized on this comment exultantly.

"So you blame the victims!" she exclaimed. She turned to the gathered mages. "This is what Hawke really thinks. I'm sure the mages in Rivain preferred to live in a peaceful, tolerant land instead of living under her tyranny. But if we do something she doesn't like, it's our own fault if we die! How is that any different from the Templars?"

Memories of being told that she was just like Meredith, just like the Templars, came rushing back to Caitlyn. Rage soared in her. "Enough!" she snarled, staff in hand. "How dare you? You twist my words!"

"You know that's not what she said nor what she believes," Anders shouted, eyes blazing with anger. "You're just trying to get the Free Mage army to turn on her and follow you!"

Fiona turned to face the mages again. "He is right that I ask you to follow me," she said, her calmness a contrast with the fury of Caitlyn and Anders. "But he is wrong about my reasons." She opened her hands to the crowd. "I will not forget the fallen! If you follow me, I will take you north, to the very maw of this death, to avenge them."

Lysas then spoke up, or rather, erupted in indignation and disbelief. "Grand Enchanter!" he burst out. "You can't be thinking of dividing the mage army! We have to stick together! You said it yourself at Andoral's Reach!"

Fiona regarded him coolly. "You charge me with 'not sticking together' instead of Hawke and Anders? Do you consider them trustworthy leaders, then, Lysas? After the way they abandoned their own longtime allies to death?"

He gaped at her. "Do you really think that?" he exclaimed. "How could they have found out in advance and stopped it? You didn't know about the Annulment orders either; how could they have?"

"Hawke is a head of state. She should have an intelligence network. The Grand Enchanter of the College of Magi, though?"

"My intelligence network does not extend to having spies embedded in the high councils of the enemy, and it's ridiculous to expect that!" Caitlyn spat.

"Divine Justinia certainly had enemy spies embedded in her high councils, Lord Seeker Lambert foremost!"

"And she knew it! She let them be there, because she is obsessed with playing the Orlesian Grand Game! Do you really think that Elthina and her cronies would have let my spies serve among her people?" she scoffed. "Look, Fiona, you clearly don't want to answer to me—and I can't force you to. You came of your own free will. If you want to leave, then leave!" Her eyes narrowed. "But know that whether you leave or stay, if you take actions to deliberately hinder our war effort, you will be treated as an enemy."

"Your Grace," Lysas pleaded, eyes wide. "Please... we have to be united..."

She gazed at the rest of the gathered mages. "The rest of you... Lysas is right. If you stay, we will fight, we will avenge our fallen brothers and sisters, and we will win. This I swear. We have been building weapons that few know about yet. We will win this war. I implore you, do not lose faith, but stay with us, stay with your friends, and fight!"

Some of the mages still looked discontented, but the flares of mutiny that Caitlyn had seen in some of their eyes were gone. Anders took her hand, rubbing his fingers over her palm comfortingly. Caitlyn exhaled. It appeared that the Free Mages' leaders, at least, would remain.


That night.

Mal had heard about the Annulments. He was shaking with that same mix of fear and anger that so many other mages were, refusing to let his little sister out of his sight even though she had not yet done magic. His parents hated that he knew, but at this point it would have been impossible to keep the secret. His words, however, were far more heartbreaking.

"Two teenage mages led the Rivaini children," he said. His young face was filled with fear, but resolve and courage were also peeking through. "I am twelve, but... if Jo Beth ever needed it... if the children of the other Free Mages ever needed it—"

Anders spoke up at once, interrupting him before he could finish. "You will not need to do what those children did—and yes, Mal, their young 'leaders' were children too, and don't forget that. We beat back the siege, and we are going to crush these murderers once and for all. And establish mage freedom across Thedas. Those children showed great courage to lead, but they should never have had to—and you never will have to. I promise you this, son."

Caitlyn was glad that he handled it, because Mal's words were breaking her heart.

A sharp knock on the sitting room door interrupted the family moment.

"Hawke! This is urgent!"

Caitlyn and Anders gave each other surprised looks. That sounded like Merrill's voice. "Merrill?" Caitlyn called out.

"Yes, it's me! And Petra, and Alain, Sketch... the others."

The Mages' Council. Caitlyn instantly reached a grim and infuriating conclusion, based on the brawl that had occurred earlier today. "One minute," she said. She turned to Mal, a weak, wry smile on her face. "How about you take care of your sister in this room, right now, until your father and I have returned?" she managed.

He returned his mother's smile, but his was equally forced.

The Mages' Council was indeed waiting outside the door, with Aveline standing guard warily but not daring to deny them entrance. She too had been horrified by the Annulment news.

"The children are inside," Caitlyn told her friend. "Maybe you should open the door to keep an eye on them, so they know they aren't alone. I don't know if Jo Beth understands the news—I hope to the Maker she doesn't—but Mal absolutely does. And he is quite upset, though he wouldn't tell you that."

Aveline nodded. "Certainly." She went inside the room.

Caitlyn and Anders led the mages to a small conference room with a table and benches set up. They warded the door heavily once everyone was inside.

It occurred to her that she should probably offer them refreshment. Some of these mages lived at the Gallows, and that was a long walk to the Keep. There was nothing in this room but a few bottles of red wine, but she cast a careful, mild force spell to pull one into her grip. The Council members raised their eyebrows, impressed.

When the wine was poured, she prepared herself for the worst. She and Anders were both quite sure that they knew what this meeting was about. "Well," she said grimly, "let's make it official. Fiona deserted, didn't she? And took people with her?"

The mages sighed. Petra answered. "Yes."

"How many?" She was not sure she wanted to know, but she had to.

"Approximately five hundred."

Anders cursed. "Damn. There are several thousand of us now, but that's significant." He became distraught. "How can mages turn against other mages like this?" he burst out.

She planned this, Caitlyn realized. That only hardened her anger and her resolve. So she can plan a rebellion quickly when she really wants to.

"The idea we're fighting for: Mages are people. That's how," Sketch said with irony.

Anders sighed bitterly, but he could not dispute the point.

"They are deserting in peace this very hour," Petra said. "I'll give them credit for not brawling, at least. Heading for the city gates. I concluded that since they were not starting a fight, we wouldn't inhibit them. As Your Grace said, Fiona came of her own free will."

"You did right," Caitlyn managed. "Trying to stop them would only have led to bloodshed."

"And... there was something else we wanted Your Graces to know."

They raised their eyebrows, waiting.

Merrill, surprisingly, was the one to say it. "They include, as far as we can tell, all the known mage supremacists. Others too, but all of them."

It was Caitlyn who cursed this time. "Do you think they're heading for Tevinter?" Fiona's words returned to her. "She said she would lead anyone who followed her north..."

"It's quite possible," Petra said in distaste. "To think... Fiona, of all people, doing that..." She shook her head. "I guess she took allies where she could find them. Maybe she actually believes she is in control."

"I understand about taking allies where they can be found," Caitlyn said, thinking about Petrice, Varnell, and the Suprema. "And she did seem to believe that she possessed some great ability to sway others." Self-consciously she added, "What leader doesn't think so? She persuaded people to make her Grand Enchanter. And she did finally win her blasted vote. I'll give her that." Her expression became a scowl. "But she's deluded if she thinks Tevinter Restorationists would ever see an elf as a leader, even one who is a mage."

"Let her find out the hard way," Anders said. "Five hundred mages deserted. That, to me, is the bigger problem. Even if, to some extent, it's 'good riddance,' this will hurt morale. And especially after the news..."

No one had much to say to that. "We need to emphasize the supremacists' part in this desertion," Caitlyn finally concluded. "Even if not all the deserters are, it sounds like a lot are. That should make people feel better. These mostly weren't loyal mages who lost hope."

"We need a plan to go to war again as soon as it's feasible," Anders added.

"Yes, we do. We have to liberate Dairsmuid, get the enemy presence out of their Chantry and their city. We have to get every survivor we can to safety."

"You said that there are new weapons," Alain ventured.

"Yes," Anders said, his tone closed off. "We have a functional weapon of this sort, and there are... others... that are under development. They are based on the explosive that ended the siege."

"Well, there's that, at least."

The meeting fell silent for a time until the silence became awkward—and something else occurred to Caitlyn at the same time. "We have to replace Fiona on the Mages' Council and my War Council," she said. "Those who followed her here will want to feel represented, especially after something like this."

"We'll call for a vote," Alain said. "I don't know who will want to put their name forward. For the Mages' Council, I mean, of course."

"I don't think we should replace an elf with a human," Merrill said.

"If the mages voted for one..." Petra trailed off. "It's not unusual to replace a human First Enchanter with an elf and vice versa. No one was offended because we were all equal... for what little that was worth... in the Circles."

Merrill scowled back. "I warn you, the elven mages I have spoken to are upset. They feel that Fiona shamed their race, our race, with her behavior—that her actions will be used by humans to disparage all elven mages."

"But the mages might also resent not having the chance to choose their own leader," Petra said. "You didn't grow up in a Circle, Merrill. It's our custom. It's one of the few measures of freedom that we had."

"A former First Enchanter should replace Fiona," Alain said. "Otherwise there will be resentment."

"Petra wasn't a First Enchanter," Anders pointed out.

Caitlyn put up her hand for silence. The talk subsided, and she thought it over. When Meredith had killed Orsino, the Kirkwall mages had chosen Alain, a human, to replace him. Although Caitlyn had called Orsino out as a murder accomplice, she hadn't wanted him dead, and he had admitted the crime, so the Circle mages hadn't blamed her. Alain had also proven a better advocate for their rights than Orsino.

But Merrill said that the elves were already upset. It seemed that anything she did would offend a lot of people. How can I prevent another mass revolt? she thought. Everyone is upset and angry right now. Every slight, real or perceived, is magnified. But if we splinter any further, we lose the war.

The answer then came to her. "I'm not telling anyone who to elect to the Mages' Council. That is your choice. You founded it. Elect and promote as you see fit. But for my War Council, I get to pick its members. It's not a vote. And I am going to offer the position to Lysas. He opposed Fiona vocally. He is an elf, and he displayed leadership and courage. If he doesn't want it, I'll look elsewhere. But the War Council is mine, so my rules."

The Council members were nodding. "That works," Petra conceded.


Over the next several days, a flurry of activity roiled Kirkwall.

Anders spent a lot of time in Ironbark Ridge, concluding whatever extra project he was working on. Caitlyn made a note to herself to ask him about his progress when she made her next inquiry with the Glavonak cousins. She needed to know how many blasting powder weapons of all types they had: rockets, certainly, but also spherical bombs, and anything else that the dwarves might have developed. It was crucial information to know before they could plan the much-deserved assault on enemy territory.

They have their red-lyrium monsters, but they will not stand against the power of a mage army and our new weapons, Caitlyn thought.

She resolved that she owed it to her Rivaini allies to liberate their capital first. Even if the schism had not overthrown the Queen of Rivain—and it seemed that they hadn't, yet—she had to be little more than a prisoner in her own city, while red-lyrium lunatics and schism fanatics actually ran the place. They would see her as a heretic, whether she followed the Rivaini earth religion or Andrastianism. And they apparently had overthrown the Andrastian Chantry.

She wondered and worried about the small group of Rivaini mage children in Treviso. That was not enemy-held territory, but it was dangerously close to it. And there was a rumor, which nobody could confirm, that some children had been smuggled out of Starkhaven's Circle before the Annulment. What had happened to them? How could Caitlyn even begin to search for them without the enemy getting wind of the search first?

The only solution was to end the war as soon as she could. Dairsmuid first, then the enemy strongholds themselves. But only the true enemy territory would feel the full wrath of her arsenal.

Then a letter from a source that she did not expect arrived in the Keep.

.

Hawke and Anders:

My "friends" in the Felicisima Armada have told me that Captain Revaud has given orders to the armada not to attack the Kirkwall or Free Mages' fleet if you go to Dairsmuid to liberate the city. He found those magelings who got to Treviso, took them aboard, and they told him a tale of his daughter's heroism. Looks like she killed all the Templars and Seekers who attacked by summoning some sort of rock spirit that brought the Tower down.

Hawke, I'd be the first to advise you against trusting pirates... but I think it's different this time. I don't think this is a trap. I think the Armada really will leave you alone. Might even help you.

Isabela

.

"I hate that the mage children are on a pirate ship," Anders remarked, "but at least we know for certain that they're alive and outside enemy reach."

Caitlyn nodded. "I believe Isabela, too. Not having to deal with the pirate armada will be a good thing. We had Rivella the last time we sailed into areas where pirates sail, but not Rialto Bay itself, and of course... she's gone..." She sighed in regret; she had rather liked Rivella and had looked forward to meeting her again. No victory feast side by side, she thought sadly.

But if they could travel to Dairsmuid unbothered by pirates, perhaps even aided by the vicious raiders, at least she could avenge her ally.


The time had come for Caitlyn to make her visit to Ironbark Ridge. Anders was on edge in the Keep when he returned from work. His air rather disturbed her. The Annulments had upset and traumatized everyone, but in his case, they had inspired a dark resolve—to do what, Caitlyn did not know—that she had only rarely seen. But those moments of dark resolve occasionally disintegrated, with something rather like remorse and regret filling him instead. Being around the children did not even ground him; if anything, it triggered these mood swings even more, no doubt because of the horrors of the Tantervale Annulment. Caitlyn herself still had to force horrifying images of her own children, slaughtered gruesomely, out of her mind—and she always felt guilty when she did, because of the fact that some children had suffered that.

But it was clear to Caitlyn that Anders was involved in something at Ironbark Ridge that troubled him. His research both energized and bothered him. She would go there, get her update from the Glavonaks, and then ask him what he was up to.


Ironbark Ridge.

"Your Grace," Dworkin Glavonak said conversationally, leading her to the armory that had been set up since her first visit. "I heard about what those sick bastards did, and how you want to bring wrath down upon them."

"Yes. So how many weapons do we have now that can do that?"

"We have a hundred and twenty-four rocket casings. Sufficient explosive—propelling powder variant—to power their flight, and sufficient blasting powder to fill them all. In fact, we have the ingredients ready for all of them."

"Are they not constructed yet?"

"We've only just finished making the supplies. It's easier to make items in bulk, Your Grace, particularly when it comes to smithing. And the casings need to be forged well. But we've bolted fifteen of them together. That's another thing, the bolts. It all has to be precise, or else there will be a loose connection somewhere, a weak spot, a tiny gap, that causes a rocket to blow apart early."

"Well, we don't want that," Caitlyn agreed. "I didn't realize it had to be that precise, but I guess it stands to reason. A lot of magic has to be as well. What about the other weapons? The bombs that we'll loft by trebuchet?"

"Those are easy to make. We have a hundred and twenty."

"Maker's breath!"

"Indeed." The dwarven engineer rubbed his palms together in glee.

"I saw the successful test, of course. Do you have confirmed hits from other test rockets? So we know that wasn't a lucky strike?"

"Yes, we've tested as many as we reasonably can without wasting supplies. It wasn't a fluke. Our aiming apparatus is good, Your Grace, and our calculations for the rocket itself add up." He rummaged in his pack, withdrawing a notebook, which he handed to her. "We wrote it all down here. The rockets are built in three sizes, each one with a different range. This tells you how far they will travel at a given launch angle—and those angles are marked on the launch device. It's all quite simple."

Caitlyn examined the pages of the notebook. Indeed, the table of figures was quite straightforward to understand. She turned to Glavonak with gratitude. "Thank you for this," she said feelingly. "This will make it very easy for us in battle."

"That was the idea, Your Grace." He grinned rather wickedly. "I can't wait to see them put to good and well-deserved use!"

Caitlyn was glad that he could be so cheery. She could not stop thinking about the Annulments—the massacres that she had not prevented from happening. Although she did not think Fiona had been right to blame her, she could not help but feel some responsibility for the fate of innocent mages.

"Oh," Glavonak added as an afterthought, "I was going to have a full gross of the rockets, but your husband wanted twenty set aside for a special project of his."

"He told me that he was working on something. I'll ask him. I meant to anyway."


Anders' workshop was darkened, but he was waiting outside for her, that oddly dark and ominous expression on his face. "You want to see my project," he said, his tones flat.

"Yes," she said. She raised an eyebrow. "I needed an update from the Glavonaks, but I am curious about what you've been up to. You said you would show me when it was ready. Is it? Do you have a working prototype?"

"I've tested them. They work." His face took on an almost flat affect.

His tone was so dark and grim that it scared her. "Anders, what's wrong? What have you been developing? Clearly it's something that troubles you."

He seemed hesitant, then guilty, then angry, then frightened. Frightened of what he has made? Caitlyn wondered. Or... of telling me about it? Of telling me something he... doesn't trust me with.

Maybe, she reflected guiltily, he's completely justified in that. Sighing, she spoke in a low voice to him. "I understand. Whatever it is, it is extremely dangerous, and I have not handled power well. I won't bother you—"

He suddenly took her arm. "No," he said feelingly. "I'm wrong not to trust you. I'll tell you, love. I have not told anyone... Justice knows, of course... but I should tell you. You would have to approve or deny it, as Viscountess, but you deserve to know because we're spouses."

She remained curious as he took down the wards and unlocked the door, but followed him inside without questions.

Anders strode through the room, which held a desk, chair, a single shelf of books, and a locked chest. He pulled open the door to a small closet. A heavy trapdoor was mounted in the floor—and there Caitlyn realized that the floor was not wooden, nor was the trapdoor. The floor was stone, and the trapdoor was made of heavy, engineered metal. She recognized dwarven work when she saw it—and it bore a glowing ward as well, which Anders took down. He lifted the heavy metal door and gazed expectantly—but also uneasily—at her.

Caitlyn turned to him. "What is down there that requires this kind of security, Anders?"

He gazed mirthlessly at her. "You'll see."

They climbed down a ladder. Caitlyn caught the gleam of metal along the walls of the basement. Rockets, she thought. She glanced uneasily at him. "I don't suppose it's safe to light a torch."

His eyes grew wide. "Maker, don't do that, whatever you do! But you can light your staff with veilfire. That's safe. I've worked in magic light."

Nervously Caitlyn cast a veilfire glow that lit the globe of her staff. It illuminated just enough of the basement to let them see. Rockets were stacked on shelves that had been built into the walls. Twenty, she thought. The twenty that Anders set aside from Glavonak's store.

Anders approached one. "They haven't been bolted shut yet," he said, "so I can show you what's in them easily enough." As she walked over to him, he popped the casing open. Inside the container that would hold the payload was a large glass tube, fitted tightly inside the shell, gleaming in the mage-light with a poisonous green sparkle.

An idea had entered Caitlyn's mind to explain this sight, but it was so ugly, so dark, that she did not want to accept it just yet. "Anders," she began. "What is in that tube?" She was not sure she wanted confirmation...

Anders took a deep breath. "Poison," he said, staring at her, as if to dare her to object. "While Dworkin was developing the design for the casings, I decided to experiment with chemicals. Most of my work has been with healing potions, of course... but the skill is broadly applicable."

His voice was affectedly casual, as if trying to acclimate himself as well as her to the horror of what he had made. Caitlyn scowled. "Yes, as I'm sure a Healer could abuse their anatomical knowledge to kill very effectively too. You used your skill with healing potions to make poison?"

"For war? Yes, I bloody well did," he said defiantly. "I discovered that it's possible to mix fleshrot poison with lifestone acid. It's extremely flammable, so soulrot mix is used instead of firebomb mix to blow the casing apart and disperse the gas. These bombs contain a gaseous form of the fleshrot-acid mix. Burns skin on contact, deadly in half an hour if inhaled."

Caitlyn suddenly felt sick to her stomach. "Anders! You—you know this? You tested this and discovered that—" She broke off, appalled.

"Not like that!" he exclaimed. "Maker, no, I didn't test it on people. I didn't even test it on animals. I led a small group into the Deep Roads, not too far—don't worry—and tested it on darkspawn."

That relieved her, but her relief only lasted for a moment. He had still created this thing. "Anders, poison gas reminds me of saar-qamek."

"It's not, though. This doesn't do anything to the mind. It just burns... either the skin or the lungs."

"It 'just' burns? So the idea of dropping bombs that sear people's skin off, or burn up their lungs from the inside, doesn't bother you?"

"It's war. What do you think will happen to the people caught in the blast of the other bombs? What do you think happens to people caught in one of your fireballs?" He closed the bomb casing and gazed at her. "It caused the darkspawn's skin to blister, peel away, and slough off. I also did an autopsy on one to see what it did to the lungs, and they were... deliquesced." He trailed off uncomfortably as Caitlyn gaped at him. Finally, it seemed, the magnitude of what he was doing had come to bother him—or perhaps it had bothered him all along and the mask of vengeance and bravado had worn off.

Caitlyn tried to control her emotions. "Anders," she said, "why do we need to make these? As you said, people who are too close when one of the blasting powder rockets strikes... or a mage's spell hits, or a bomb lands... could die too. Why do you want to kill anyone this way, by a horrible torture?"

His gaze hardened. "Mages' spells and blasting powder are meant for destroying things, or for killing or disabling quickly. It's over fast, and that's that." He raised an eyebrow darkly. "But what if, every time the enemy saw a rocket flying toward them, they had to fear that it might contain something that melts their skin off or burns their lungs up, that it'll last for half an hour, and with no chance of healing because of their own actions in murdering all their Healers?"

Her gaze flickered to the walls, where the chemical rockets gleamed malevolently. "So the fear is the point."

He nodded, guilt visible on his face—but also dark, terrifying resolve. It was as if his doubts had faded by the act of talking about it to her. She was sure she saw a flash of the spirit within.

"Anders," she said carefully, "this is deliberately spreading fear, torture, pain, and suffering. You are a Healer."

"Part of me doesn't like it at all," he admitted in a moment of shame. "But they deserve it, after what they've done. They deserve to tremble in terror. They deserve to be as terrified as those poor mages must have been—as every mage in a Circle, every apostate on the run, has been. They deserve to suffer. After what they've done for ages, after what they did in Tantervale, let some of them die in agony!" He clenched his fist, and there was no question about it now—Vengeance passed over him in lightning crackles, brightening his eyes to spirit-blue for a fraction of a second. "And if we use these weapons, nobody will challenge us again. Nobody will dare make trouble for us."

Caitlyn drew back, overcome, as she took it in. Yes, these weapons would make them lords and masters of Thedas... but only for a time, she realized. It would also set other nations trying to make their own. Some would succeed.

The Blight. Red lyrium. Both unleashed on the world, one as a weapon. We might join that hall of infamy. Look how the world sees the Magisters Sidereal now. Look what their actions unleashed on all mages who came after.

"Anders," she said, "if we use this against the enemy, we have to win. I assume you realize why."

"I do," he said darkly. His gaze hardened. "The people who murdered those mages, who tortured and killed those children, deserve to die in terror and agony. You know they do."

"Anders," she said. She placed her hands on his shoulders and massaged them soothingly, trying to calm herself as well as him. "They do. And if we could target only those Templars, by the Maker, I would fight you to be the one to light those bombs." Her voice was fierce.

Anders managed a weak laugh.

"But most of the casualties of our bombs won't be those specific Templars. Some will be civilians. They can't all help where they live."

"You were an impoverished refugee, Caitlyn. When I made my escapes, I was a Circle mage who had nothing. We find a way out if we want it enough."

Anders was so very generous as a Healer, and he rarely placed full blame on any mage for doing evil deeds, instead arguing that Templars and Circles drove them to it. But he did not always extend that understanding to others.

She decided to try a different approach. "It's war. I know. Innocent people die in war. But this still feels different to me. We'd be deliberately using these weapons not just to win a battle, like we would with spells and our other weapons, but because of the fear they sow, the torment they inflict."

Anders' expression suddenly relaxed. The fear and darkness seemed to flee his face, as the spirit's anger receded. He collapsed in his chair and put his hands to his head. "You're right," he said. "I know that it's a betrayal of everything your father wanted me to be. Everything I'd like to model for our children."

Caitlyn felt a flutter of relief. But then he raised his head.

Anders gazed up at her, eyes hard with desperate anger. "But what if our other bombs aren't enough? What if our army of mages isn't enough? We are fighting murderous fanatics. They think the Maker is on their side. They will deliberately target and slaughter children, not as collateral damage in a battle, but with blades in their own hands as the children cower behind doors! They will torture children to death, simply because they can! What if our other weapons and forces cannot break the will of such people—if you can even call them that?" he added in a snarl. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "They have proven beyond any doubt that they have no limits, so why should we impose any on ourselves?"

The Annulments had broken something inside him, Caitlyn realized. "You're thinking of avenging the mages of the slaughtered Circles," she said gently. "That's why you want to do this. And we'll do that. I swear to you, I swear before the Maker, we will do it," she swore. "They will pay dearly for what they have done. But must it be this way? If we used these indiscriminately, in what way would we differ from the Tantervale Templars?"

He still looked resolved and stubborn. "Then we won't use them indiscriminately. Glavonak says the rockets can be fairly precisely targeted. We won't aim any of these at civilian targets." His eyes widened again. "Cait, I don't want to get rid of them now," he burst out in sudden fear. "I had this idea; what's to stop someone else from thinking of it after we use the blasting powder rockets? I'm terrified of people who hate us inventing something before we do. They will kill us all. They've proven that. And new weapons just give them an excuse to do it. They don't see us as people, after all. They kept us locked up in Circles because they saw us as weapons. They might decide they don't even need us now that these weapons exist."

She sighed. He had a point. "True," she acknowledged. "If mage-haters had invented any of our weapons while we were still hunted and locked in Circles, it could have been our doom."

"Either they would have decided they didn't need us anymore, or any rebellion we would have attempted under such conditions would have been quashed brutally. It is better that we make all these things first—before the people who hate us do."

There's something in that, Caitlyn thought dully. Maker, though, what a world if this is the calculation—create horrible things before one's enemies do.

"All right," she said quietly. "We'll keep these bombs. But I will not let them be used except in direst need."

He let out a sigh of relief, and Caitlyn realized that fear was driving him more than anything else—and that the mere existence of these bombs provided him some idea of comfort in his mind.

"I'm glad you understand," he said. "And you were right too. They should never be used casually."

"Do I understand?" she asked quietly. "Do you? Does anyone truly understand what all these things will mean for war—and peace? We're making lethal, devastating changes to warfare, without considering the kind of world it might create to have such terrible weapons lurking in the background all the time."

Anders sighed. "But did we ever have another choice?"

She did know the answer to that. With the Seeker revolt and alliance with the schism cities, it would have become an open question as to whether the Free Mages could stand alone even behind the bulwark of Kirkwall.

"Probably not," she admitted.

Anders nestled himself into her, lowering his head under her chin so that she was cuddling him. She ran her fingers through his golden hair, stroking the smooth locks, closing her eyes as she held him.


Notes: Thedas already has chemical weapons, in fact. Most throwing grenades qualify, and saar-qamek definitely does. Chemical warfare is actually shockingly common in Thedas. That's why I had Anders invent poison gas versions of some of the DA:O poisons... and enhance them. I wanted it to be something next-level and awful.

Nukes are far too big a jump for Thedas (they required 20th century technology and scientific understanding, and no one in Thedas is even close), but I suppose what I'm doing with another type of WMD, and the horrible logic of having them, is fairly unsubtle. Maybe nobody will mess with Kirkwall or the Free Mages for a while. But the moral cost does matter.

As is pretty apparent now, my definition of "fix-it"... has asterisks, let's say, and I specifically wanted the AU Mage-Templar War to play out without major changes to Asunder or DA:I needed, so I wanted Fiona's desertion with the supremacists to at least be understandable. I think her position in the argument was so, regardless of whose side one takes in it. That said, I'm really not a fan of the sudden shift to Orlais, the College of Magi, and Fiona as what really matters after we played the rebellion beginning with Anders (and perhaps Hawke) in Kirkwall, so another thing I wanted to do was to have the Asunder events as the side story instead, while the war continued where it actually began and with the people who actually began it.