Dearest Father,

When our new dwarven friend Varric has asked to speak with me privately, I never imagined he would be telling me to seek out a Grey Warden. When we met this Warden, and I learned he was a mage, Father I admit my heart soared! After a year of working for Athenril with Carver, the only mages I have seen in Kirkwall were the ones in the Gallows, and only the tranquil mages are free to roam the area. To be in the presence of another apostate, though Carver immediately hated it, it was as if I had finally found a friend. Someone to talk to, someone that would understand, someone to confide in and compare notes with...someone like you Father.

When he asked for assistance to help his friend escape the Gallows, well you know me, I jumped at the opportunity! Sure it was dangerous, but it was also exciting! I wasn't working for coin or to pay off a debt. I was finally doing something I believed in! I didn't mean to drag Carver along, but unfortunately there are still few I can trust in this city. With Aveline in her guard position, I could hardly ask her. So Carver, Varric, and I snuck into the night for a secret meeting in the Chantry. Certainly a story to tell the children someday!

Or so I thought.

Dearest Father, there is no way to explain the pit in my stomach when we saw Anders' friend had been made tranquil. To be so close to a fellow mage and see no life, no hopes or dreams, no anything in his eyes...it frightened me. I thought I grew a thick skin within this last year with the work I was forced to do, but there was no preparing for this. Or what followed next, when Anders saw his friend in that condition.

It was a trap of course. Templars poured into the room and attacked us immediately. Not only was the mage made tranquil, he was used to get to Anders. And then Anders...he changed Father. Into something I had never seen before, and honestly, Maker help me, never wish to see again.

My heart broke for the second time that night when Anders explained himself to me. He has taken a spirit into himself. His sadness is overwhelming when he tells his story, and my heart honestly believes he meant well when he did it. But I recall my lessons Father; I know what he did was not right, and never should have been done. Anders claims it was a "good spirit" that he was helping, or trying to save, right now I don't really know. Am I selfish in admitting that once he began his story, all I could think about was the friend I had already lost before he was even a friend?

Carver is angry with me again. I continue to try Father, but with this recent event he is furious with me. Templars died. At my hands. When did death become so easy for me? I have written to you countless times already over my guilt in killing Wesley. But now I am attacked by the Coterie, forced to kill them when they ambush me. Killed those templars that ambushed us in the Chantry. The blood is beginning to flow Father, small pools of death that are forming at my feet. What a disappointment I must be to you now, as I am to Carver, and probably Mother as well.

"You don't like me Carver, do you," Anders stated as he, Carver, and Varric occupied a table at the Hanged Man.

"No, I don't like you," Carver confirmed, taking a sip of ale and shaking his head at the nasty taste it left in his mouth.

"That's unfortunate," Anders sighed. "Hating someone just because they're a mage is a shameful thing."

Carver scoffed at Anders and turned to the side to keep an eye on his sister, buried in her pages to Father as usual. "I don't hate you because you're a mage," he justified his feelings, "I hate you because you won't shut up about it." Another swig from his mug had emptied it and he slammed it down on the table, lowering his voice. "Oppression this, templars that, I've heard enough long before you."

Varric shook his head as he looked at the two of them. "You'd think with one of you a mage, and the other a son and brother of mages, you could find some common ground to stand on."

Anders put his hands up. "I have nothing to do with his hatred of me. His issues are clearly of his own making."

Carver turned back around to stare down the mage. "I have spent my entire life in hiding because of mages. Pushed aside while Father spent all of his time coddling her and Bethany. I thought coming to Kirkwall we could put some of that hiding behind us, make new lives for ourselves." He took a breath, and then continued his rant in hushed tones. "We spent an entire year not being bothered by templars or having to live in the shadows. Within a day of meeting you however, we have not only tried to help a mage escape the Gallows, but now have templar blood on our hands. So yes, I don't like you. I despise you, your plight, and everything you stand for."

Varric covered his face in his hands. For once he was thankful the Hanged Man wasn't a very popular place among important people. The last thing he wanted to do was involve Bianca, but if these two didn't shut up soon, he was prepared to take drastic measures.

Thankfully Anders stood up, clearly having heard enough from "little Hawke," as Varric loved to call him. "Perhaps that is why your sister huddles in a corner writing letters to her dead Father. Because it's clear you don't give a damn enough to support her."

Carver opened his mouth to say something, but no words of defense came from his lips. He watched as Anders walked out of the Hanged Man, catching a glance at his sister. She quickly buried her head back into her words, but he knew she had overheard everything by the tears in her eyes she refused to let fall.