Part III
I know you and Anders are… It's not my place to question. But please, be careful. He's a dangerous man. And selfish. Whatever he promised, don't think he'll ever put you above his own needs. - Sebastian
Lit torches reflect off the tunnel walls.
Hawke can't decide if that's good or bad news. Bad, most likely. Perhaps the Templars are still searching. She stops and cocks her head, trying to hear something, anything, to give her an idea of what they're about to face. But all she hears is her companions, the links in Merrill's chainmail brushing together, leather gliding over as Varric adjusts his gloves and Fenris' quiet breathing. His armor makes no sound.
The smell in the tunnel is awful, though not nearly as bad as the one they went to for the Sela Petrae, which made her empty the contents of her stomach when they made it back to Darktown. Thinking of the ingredient makes her wince.
What are you hiding, Anders?
He's never flat out lied to her before. Kept truths from her, certainly, but never a bald face lie. A part of her worries what he told her isn't a lie. That when he mixes the ingredients, they will be free because they will be dead. Hawke will not stop him if he feels it is what is needed to be done, but she knows, deep inside, that she doesn't necessarily want to live in a world where he does not stand beside her.
A sudden shout down one of the tunnels catches her attention. The man's accent is rough, the words too coarse to be a Templar. "Did you hear that?" she asks over her shoulder.
"Sounds like that Lyrium smuggling ring is back up again," Varric says, his eyes narrowing. "I hadn't heard they were back in business."
"They'll be in the way of the search, won't they?" Merrill asks.
"Let's take care of them," Hawke says, her voice crisp, the order given. She stands straight, her shoulders back, needing no Lyrium etched onto her skin like Fenris to feel the sudden spark of energy and magic in the air. She is ready for a fight, is aching for one, to be able to let loose and take out her frustrations on whichever smuggler took the wrong shift tonight.
Fenris is already running ahead, his markings lit, looking more wraith than elf. Varric grabs Bianca off his back and is ready to fire. Reaching behind her, Hawke feels the solid wood of her staff and she brings it forth, feeling the magic running through her veins, ready to call on the Fade itself to help reach her goal: to find Anders.
Seven smugglers are waiting, three running towards them, the rest with bows. Hawke feels the Fade swell inside her and calls on the Abyss, forcing the ones heading towards them to slow. Fenris takes full advantage and lunges with his great sword, and quickly the smugglers are down to six.
Fenris engages the two swordsmen while Varric, Merrill and Hawke focus on the archers. "Suck on a fireball," Hawke whispers to herself, unleashing fire magic from her fingertips. She hits only two when she meant to hit three, but the two she did hit start to panic, allowing Varric to fire.
A swordsman changes his target from Fenris to Merrill, but the elven mage quickly twists her body, releasing a Mind Blast. For only a moment, the swordsman pauses, but it's enough that Varric hits him with a bolt right between the eyes. Minutes later, the fight is over and Hawke puts her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She carefully evaluates her mana, wanting to make sure she had enough reserves in case Anders needed healing. Though if it comes to that, they are doomed. None of her companions enjoy her clumsy attempts at healing magic.
"Let's go further in," she says after they've all recovered from the fight. She doesn't bother to pick pockets or check weapons tonight.
They are quiet again as they walk, listening for any signs of more smugglers. After another five minutes of walking, Fenris says, "Wait."
He crouches down and Hawke's heart starts beating outside her chest.
"The mage is near."
Fenris stands and turns toward her. He holds out his hands to her, as if in offering and she sees the azure colored feathers in his hands. "Anders," she whispers. Somewhere in these Maker-ridden tunnels he is here and she must find him before she gives into despair.
The group starts to walk again, ten paces, then twenty, when two voices can be heard. These voices are more refined, and when Hawke hears the name Meredith spoken, she knows the templars are near.
Varric takes the lead then, turning to stealth. As the rest wait, Hawke watches him turn the corner to get a view of what is ahead. A moment later, he appears, finger covering his lips, telling them to be quiet. Another hand signal has them follow him down another inlet of the tunnel.
When he motions everyone to stop, Hawke feels Varric's hand on her forearm. "Blondie's still breathing-"
Hawke drops onto her haunches, feeling relief, blessed relief. Anders is breathing.
"But two templars are right on top of him. This is a trap," Varric says, his voice grim. "I thought you and the Knight-Commander made nice."
"Attack and the templars will most likely kill him," Fenris says.
"They won't if we kill them before they know we're here," Merrill says. "If we get behind them, Fenris can be very quiet, you know."
Fenris looks down at his hands. "I can only kill one at a time," he admits.
Varric chuckles at that. "Then Bianca here will do the rest."
Hawke nods absently. It's a good plan and should work. Best of all, it will keep her out of the fray, because all she wants to do it climb up the stairs leading to the Gallows and charge, to end this mockery of a truce between the templars and mages. Hawke has killed mages in Meredith's name and still it is not enough. It will never be enough.
They make their way to the end of the inlet and pause. The templar's backs are to them now, unsuspecting and unprepared for this assault. "One of the left is mine. Ready, Broody?" Varric asks quietly.
Fenris only nods as his markings activate again. Hawke's own magic wants to respond, wants to seep out, but she forces her mind to be still. Within minutes, they will have Anders and make their way out of these blasted tunnels.
Instead of watching Fenris make his way silently to the templars, she watches Varric line up his shot. She wishes her aim with magic was half as good as his. He's offered to work with her, but there simply never seems to be time. Perhaps she'll change that.
The suddenness of Bianca going off almost surprises her. Hawke looks at the templars; they are both dead and she runs to Anders.
Seconds later, she is kneeling at his side, trying to see where he is hurt. He's unconscious and there's a large gash on his left side, blood soaking his coat so it almost looks black. His right arm looks to be broken, but he has his hands, oh Maker, they haven't touched his hands. She is ready to cry in relief.
"I smell magebane," Merrill says softly.
Hawke rips off her gloves and throws them to the ground before placing two fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing… nothing… there! His pulse is weak, but blood is still flowing through his veins, his heart is still pumping, giving them a chance. She holds out her hand and one of her companions gives her a health potion. Carefully, as if she is tending the nest of a baby bird, Hawke lifts Anders' neck as she brings the vial to his lips. After pouring some of the liquid into his mouth, she massages his throat, hoping this will be enough to revive him.
Eyelids flutter but do not open. "Wake up," Hawke says, her voice strong, commanding him to listen. He ignores her. Hawke places her fingertips on the wound at his side and they come away coated in his blood. He's still bleeding and who knows how much blood he has already lost?
She gives him more potion, knowing he is beyond her ability to heal. The knowledge settles into her body, deep and certain, rooting itself like a deep freeze of winter.
And then the whispers start.
She closes her eyes, but the sudden darkness only makes it worse. The demons are calling, they are slithering towards her, telling her that he can be saved, it's so simple, all she must do is open herself to them and they will fix everything…
"No!" Hawke cries, her voice raw with grief, as she casts a simple healing spell.
This time Anders' eyes open slightly. "Hawke…" His voice is tired, so tired and she wonders how much longer they have.
"I'm here," she says, laying his head back down on the ground as she brushes away hair, caked with blood, from his eyes. "I'm here."
She grabs his hand, refusing to let go. There must be something she can do, without resorting to blood magic or demons. As much as she loves him, more than anything life has offered, Hawke will not lose herself to save him. She will not be the women he loves if she does.
"Injury kit, please," she says, holding out her hand. It appears, and she makes Anders drink. If they can root out the magebane in his system, so he can heal himself, or if they can just bind his wound enough so they can move him, perhaps then... Perhaps.
He coughs up the potion as she tries to get him to swallow. "Too late," he whispers. Each would slow and slurred and barely recognizable. "Almost gone."
Hawke drops her chin to her chest but refuses to shut her eyes, not wanting to miss a second of his last moments in this world. "I love you," she says, not caring that the others can hear. They know. How many times have they told her she is foolish for loving him? For letting an Abomination into her heart? Into her soul? Her life would be so much easier if he wasn't a part of it, yet it wouldn't be much of a life. Not without him.
"Justice," he says, coughing up blood as he does. "You must take him, love." Each word sounds scraped out of his throat. But then Anders meets her eyes for the first time. "Finish what we started."
"I will," she says without hesitation. But then she pauses. Is she willing to become an abomination for him? She believes in their cause, of course, but to do this… This is to turn her back on everything she has known. Her companions will never understand. Will they treat her like they treat him? Will they leave her side? Can she bear it if they do, if Anders is gone?
Anders' eyes close and each breath becomes slow and labored. It will not be long now. She strokes his hair and in one moment makes a decision. It is not only Anders she loves, but also Justice. She could not condemn Justice to a life alone outside the Fade. Or worse, have him inhibit Anders' lifeless body like he did with Kristoff. Not when she is able to provide an alternative.
A cool, metal gauntlet rests on her shoulder. "Don't do this, Hawke," Fenris says, his voice soft but urgent. She hears more emotion in these words than she has ever heard before. "You said you would trust me to do the right thing."
The right thing, of course, is to strike her down if she becomes an Abomination, not to risk what she might become, especially when anger and grief will overwhelm her. She looks up at Fenris and offers a sad smile. "Do what you must," she says, surprised at the calmness she hears. "I do what I must." He nods and takes a step back, releasing her shoulder but not his sword.
Her focus goes back to Anders, who is so still. She's never seen him this still, not even in the early morning when she's awake and watches him sleep. Even in slumber, his eyes are constantly searching behind closed lids or his feet move or fists clench. But now, he is calm and Hawke hopes desperately that he will be able to rest.
He exhales.
He does not inhale again.
She hears the death rattle she is far too familiar with and lets out a wordless cry. "Maker, no," she says, tears falling down her cheeks. Hawke hears demons flittering about, all offering their help and she is tempted, she is oh so tempted, if she could just bring him back…
But then everything changes.
He appears so quickly Hawke doesn't have time to be afraid.
She is fire and fury as the blood in her veins begin to boil. She is air and energy as electricity dances over her skin. She is earth and turbulence as her muscles grow heavy. She is water and ire as the mist in her mind finally clears.
She is Justice.
And she will have Vengeance.