Marni had been gone for over a week, and still, alone in his clinic, Anders found himself opening his mouth to tell her excitedly about the orange tabby he'd spotted by the clinic door or to call her over so he could demonstrate how to make a healing poultice that also numbed pain. But the words would die on his lips as he remembered with a sickening jolt that she wasn't there. Despite her absence, there were traces of her everywhere: her threadbare oversized sweater draped over the back of his chair; the fine cut on the deep mushrooms she'd diced and spread evenly across a screen for air drying; the cheery chalk drawings she'd done along the walls to brighten the clinic; the occasional imprint left behind in the dirt floor by a small bare foot. Marni had made herself a part of the clinic in her year as his assistant, and now it felt wretchedly empty and eerily haunted by her present absence.
Anders tried to focus on his work. He and two other rebels would be infiltrating the Gallows that night to guide a young mage to a safe house through the sewers. He was preparing salves for their mission, or trying to anyway. A song Marni used to sing while she worked was lodged in his head, looping in her airy soprano, and repeatedly pulling his attention from the herbs he was busy distilling.
She was a distraction, Justice hissed in the back of his mind.
Anders tensed at the unwelcome thought and the truth of it. She was a bright light in the midst of the choking darkness that had settled on Kirkwall. She was a daily reminder that not everything had been lost, that there was more to Kirkwall than the hopeless feud between Templars and mages.
As I said, she was a distraction, Justice rebutted.
Anders snapped, How can you dismiss her like that? What happened to her should matter to you! She should matter to you! She was a victim of injustice as much as the mages are!
I agree, Justice said plainly. And now she is dead. We have exacted justice in blood from the slavers who killed her. There is nothing more to be done. We cannot continue to allow her to distract us from our task.
Anders shook his head, cut by the cold turn of Justice's thoughts. His thoughts. It isn't so simple for me. I can't just stop feeling on command.
Then allow me to guide us, Justice boomed loudly, and Anders felt the spirit's presence push heavily on his thoughts. You lack conviction. I do not.
Anders laughed in spite of himself. I lack conviction? I've been here, committed every step of the way, the same as you. How do you suppose I lack conviction?
The part of you that is not us. The part of you that ran from the Circle and ran from the Wardens, the part of you that wished to be a father to that child, the part of you that still dreams that Hawke might yet choose you over the elf. You seek out distractions; you wish to be turned from our cause.
Anders bristled. It was an old argument, one that had halted him at Hawke's threshold more than once, one that had prevented him from becoming too personally involved in Marni's life. You are quick to draw distinctions between us whenever Hawke or Marni are under discussion, Anders seethed with familiar bitterness. But as soon as the topic of your particular obsessions come up, suddenly it's 'our cause' this, and 'we must see justice done' that.
They are not my obsessions; we joined, and our causes became one. But it is human weakness that—
Yes, yes, Anders cut him off with a roll of his eyes. I'm weak. You know, I can still remember the good old days when the worst that could come of my weakness was an ill-chosen bed mate or setting the odd Templar on fire. Simple weakness never hurt anybody back then.
The Templars.
Anders snorted. Come now, they don't count. Besides, I only ever singed them a little… Until you. Now we're practically drowning in blood, and not all of it Templar's.
It is necessary, Justice dismissed coolly, and there is more to come. We must steel our self.
Anders frowned as the familiar dread—which had become as constant a companion as Justice of late—turned nauseously in his gut. I… don't know.
You must know, Justice pressed, or all that we have worked for, all the suffering that the mages here have endured will have been for naught. Justice must be done.
But at what price? Ander's asked, a panicked edge to his thoughts. He knew the answer, but facing it still made his stomach drop like a stone.
A price we will pay, Justice said firmly.
Not just us! Everyone in the Chantry… innocents will die if we follow through.
There are no innocents! Justice boomed, and Anders had to fight to maintain control as the spirit's wrath burned his skin and eyes. Their inaction condemns them as surely as if they wielded the sunburst brand with their own wretched hands!
I… I know, Anders said shakily. But Hawke still thinks the Grand Cleric can be swayed. Perhaps if we give her more time…
Hawke has failed. Her belief that she can defend mages by cooperating with the forces that abuse them is naïve and counter to our cause. While she discusses politics and reform with the clerics, more of your people's minds are sundered every day. Hawke does not share our conviction!
Anders shook his head. Hawke has a responsibility to defend the people of Kirkwall. She only hopes to limit the bloodshed of open hostilities. You know that Meredith will not take open rebellion in stride; she'd burn Kirkwall to the ground before seeing the mages free.
A necessary cost. The Circle must be abolished and the Templar Order broken. Peaceful means will not see mages freed from their shackles. And Meredith must pay for the injustices she has orchestrated.
And what of our friends? Anders asked as anticipated grief shuddered in his chest.
What of them? If they oppose us and defend Meredith, they will fall as rightly as the Templars.
No! Anders started. The possibility of Justice, of him, killing his friends had not occurred to Anders. Even if he forced the rebellion through an act they didn't condone, he was sure Hawke would never ally with Meredith. And the rest of their friends would certainly never stand against Hawke, no matter their personal politics. No, they would not need to fall to Justice's wrath. Not directly. What troubled Anders was what his actions might otherwise cost Hawke and their friends through their association with him.
They must not distract us from our course, Justice pushed, knowing the content of Anders' thoughts. We are building a world in which mages need not cower or die at the whims of the Templars. It is a world Hawke wants. She lacks the vision and conviction to see it through, but she would not think her life wasted if lost in attaining the Justice our actions will promise.
Anders, in spite of the sickening effect of the thought, believed Justice was right. They would initiate the rebellion, push Meredith and Orsino to their breaking point, remove the "stabilizing" force of the Grand Cleric, and Hawke would defend the mages against Meredith's fury. And once Kirkwall proved that the oppressive force of the Templars could be resisted and defeated, the other Circles across Thedas would rise up in kind. No matter how Hawke would judge Anders' actions, she would surely agree that the world he was building was better than the one that had forced her and her family into a lifetime of hiding and running.
While Hawke had consistently rejected violent tactics in her attempts at resolving the Templar threat, Anders believed she knew in her heart that it was becoming increasingly necessary. Meredith had threatened to cage her for her support of the mages only days earlier, and Anders had seen Hawke's eyes spark with the recognition the Templars could not be reasoned with, not by her and not by the Grand Cleric. As long as Meredith was in command, every mage in Kirkwall stood on a precipice, tranquility or death a hair's breadth away. Hawke knew it, but Justice was right: Hawke's sense of responsibility to the people of Kirkwall shook her conviction and prevented her from acting, even when she knew that the Templars must be struck down.
She wouldn't condone his actions. But perhaps, one day, she might feel some gratitude that he was willing to do what she could not. Once mages were free, she would recognize that the Templars had forced his hand, that he had spent eight years hoping desperately for an alternative, putting his faith in Hawke's push for peace, while the Order became increasingly violent and oppressive. She would recognize that he had done what was necessary, what was just, what she would have been forced to do herself if he had not acted first. He would take the consequences of starting the rebellion upon himself so she wouldn't have to. Hawke would understand that someday.