Notes: Song inspiration is "No Light, No Light" by Florence + the Machine.


Chapter 14: Revelation, Conversation, Resolution


Can I do this? Is this truly what I want? Caitlyn dithered at the gates of Kirkwall, trying to calm her turbulent emotions.

He should have told me the truth the first night, she thought. This was a big secret to keep from me. He thought it would have been "too much" for one night, but it wasn't better to learn about it this way. He claims it's a spirit, not a demon... but it did not look friendly at all. Could I really trust his assurance that it wouldn't hurt me—or, more importantly, my child?

But that wasn't the only reason I got angry, she thought with a pang. That only triggered the outburst and gave me an excuse. I was already angry about the nature of the favor. He wanted me to risk my own freedom—my own life, arguably—for something that, in retrospect, was obviously walking into a trap. There would have been nothing to keep that man from walking out of the Chantry himself if he were able. Anders should have realized that something was amiss.

He did realize it. He suspected that there might be Templars there. He just didn't suspect...

I wasn't angry just because he wanted me to take on a risk. Taking on risks occasionally is what we do for people we care about. He did it plenty of times for me, and for my family, after he was captured. All of his escapes... going to a town that he saw was destroyed by the Blight... giving Bethany a pyre, knowing there might be darkspawn about. That realization hit her like a stone. I was jealous, and I didn't have a right to be, considering. I was in no position to judge him for seeking comfort when he was feeling despair. I did the same thing. And he was feeling despair in the Circle. He was feeling despair for a long time. He said that he thought we were all dead until we appeared in his clinic the other day. The things he saw... and he hasn't even spoken of whatever he saw under Amaranthine except that it involved darkspawn that could speak.

He should have told me about that... spirit, she forced herself to think, rather than calling it a demon. He shouldn't have kept that from me even for two nights. That "surprise" made things worse.

But it wasn't the real reason I lashed out. Even jealousy of Karl wasn't the main cause. She leaned against the gate and closed her eyes. She knew why she had done it, and it was a reason that she couldn't bear thinking of. If her explosion really had been about the spirit, then that would have been somewhat defensible—though I shouldn't have attacked him in battle or been deliberately cruel to him afterward, she thought. Even jealousy would at least have been understandable. Hypocritical, considering her relationship with Leliana, and also cruel to be hostile to him after he'd had to end Karl's life, but understandable beforehand. However, that wasn't the reason for her outbursts. The real reason was something much worse.

He suffered. Even if he turned to another person for comfort briefly, he never stopped trying to get back to me and he suffered terribly—and I couldn't stand to accept that. I couldn't stand to accept that I'd been wrong to form and hold a grudge, that he might have suffered almost as much as I had, but that he had never turned against me in his thoughts as I did against him. I lashed out at him as cruelly as I could so that he would respond in kind and end all chances for us himself. If I did it, if I ended it—whatever "it" even is, or was before tonight—then I would have been the ingrate and the villain. I wanted him to do it—or thought I did—because that would finally be a big act against me. It would balance the accounts. It would mean I never had to come to terms with my own anger and guilt.

She muffled a sob. I may have gotten my wish.

She tried to focus. Varric had urged her to find him and apologize profusely unless she really did want to lose him.

I don't want to lose him. I suffered for years because I missed him and didn't know what had happened to him, whether he was well, whether he might die or lose everything that made him himself—as happened to his friend, she thought with a pang. I don't want to lose him... but he wants to mourn Karl. I shouldn't interpose myself...

No, I shouldn't make the discussion tonight all about myself. That won't help anything. It might be all right to be there to comfort him, though. If I find him and just... apologize, but then try to be there for him...

She took a deep breath. It was something like a plan. She just hoped that it would work. She slipped through the city gates and trudged in the direction that she had last seen Anders walking.


She finally found him in a clearing on a path that led up the mountains. His back was turned, and he appeared to be gathering wood. Karl's body was laid out, his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his chest. Anders had put a mage's cowl on his head, which hid the brand of Tranquility. Anders wanted to send him off as a mage, she thought—so very like him.

She backed away into the shadows when he emerged with an armful of kindling. He placed it around and beneath the body, and when he rose again, she stepped forward.

He tensed, grabbing his staff and glaring at her as he tensed like a predator ready to spring. She wondered for a moment if the... spirit... would appear again, but it was Anders' own voice that came from his mouth.

"Why are you here?" he demanded furiously. "You said plenty in the city. If you've thought of more, have the decency to save it for a time when I'm not doing a funeral—assuming you still have any decency." His lips curled in disdain, and it was clear he was unsure on that count.

There was the backlash she had thought she wanted from him—but now that she had it, it broke her heart. It was very possible that her words and deeds really had been unforgivable.

She cast her gaze at the ground. "I'm here to apologize, Anders."

He scowled and remained tensed. "Are you? Just like that? Do you think that washes it away?" He turned aside and gazed at the pyre. "I'm not interested. You deliberately attacked me while those Templars were trying to kill us all—and then you said... well, I won't repeat it." He turned his head to glare at her. "I suppose you didn't like the results. You're sorry that I reacted this way, aren't you? That's what you're sorry for. You would say the same thing again if you thought it would end differently."

She looked up and stared imploringly at him, eyes wide. "No! I..." She sighed; this was going to sound awful, but truth was truth. "I said those things because I thought I did want you to react this way. I know it's terrible. That's why I'm here. I... Anders, I didn't come to talk about myself." She rubbed her head. "I've been very angry for a very long time, and I turned that against you, and it was just a shock to me to hear about everything you went through. All the risks you took, what you did for Bethany... for all of us... I felt terribly guilty the other night, and so I retreated back into anger to try to... well, to do this, to push you too far, because I didn't want to deal with that guilt. It was wrong and cruel and I make no excuses. I'm sorry. And"—her voice wavered—"I understand if you can't accept my apology or forgive this." She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them and gazing pleadingly at him.

He was silent for a long time before turning aside without a word and gazing out at the body. She began to fear that it still would not be enough, that nothing would be now, and prepared miserably to leave. He cast flames at the kindling and sank onto a rock, his hands over his face as he slumped.

Quietly she moved away, feeling hot tears form in her eyes. That's it, then, she thought. It's over. For four years I told myself that I just wanted an ending—and now I've created one. You got your wish, Caitlyn. Hope it's everything you wanted it to be.

"Goodbye then," she whispered, unsure if he would even hear. He still didn't respond or even look her way. Feeling hollow and empty, as if she'd just lost something incalculable, she turned aside and began to walk away from the pyre site. It would be a long, lonely walk back to Lowtown. She doubted that Varric would have waited for her outside the Chantry, and Carver was surely home already. A long, miserable walk, and the only person awaiting her whom she cared to see was Mal. A pang hit her at the thought of him, his innocent wishes for his father to live with them. Would Anders even want to see him after this? Surely he would... but she dreaded the thought of facing her mother, who had been so hopeful...

"Don't go."

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, her heart beating. He was looking up, and though it was hard to be certain in the dark and the firelight, he did not look angry. She didn't argue for a moment; she just turned around and walked back, sitting down on the rock nearest him.

He didn't say anything after that for a while, just gazing ahead silently as Karl's body burned, his face deeply sad and angry again—but she didn't think this anger was directed at her anymore. It seemed to be anger at what had happened to Karl.

"Do you want to talk about him?" she asked quietly. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've no right to judge you and I'm glad that you had someone who was there for you, even if it was only briefly." Even if I wasn't that person. As she spoke the words, she realized that she meant them.

He was silent for a moment before speaking. "He was there for me," he said. "I don't know what to say... what you can hear..."

"I can hear anything that you need to say." She knew it might be painful, but she also knew she owed him this.

He seemed dubious, but sighed in acceptance. "If you mean that... Well, he was my friend before my big escape—the one in which we met. Just a friend then; the other did not come until after I was... taken back. He was... this is going to sound bad, I know, considering, but he was something of a mentor years ago. Not like your father, of course; he was just an apprentice mage who was a few years older than me and knew the ropes. That type of mentor." He gazed at the burning body. "He looked older than he was. Some people turn grey very early; he was one of them. I thought it was hilarious to give him a birthday gift of hair dye." He tried to crack a smile, but it came out with a choked sob.

"That sounds exactly like you," she said, trying to be encouraging. "What did he think?"

"He said that I should make sure to sniff my food and drink in the future, but that was just a joke, of course. He actually used it... and then went grey again after it was gone," he replied. Another sob escaped him, all attempts at cheer gone now. "I... didn't want this. I mean... of course I didn't want this... but there was a time, after I learned what had happened to the Circle in Ferelden, when I thought it was better that he was sent here instead of being there while demons and blood mages were taking it over and killing everyone." He wiped his eyes. "He deserved better than this. No mage ever deserves that, but he... he was talented. He was... less aggressive about vocally hating the Circle than I was, but it was a quiet discontent for him. He wanted an assignment outside the Circle after he was Harrowed. He should have been given one." He rubbed his eyes. "Instead they sent him here. That's another reason why we..."

She felt sick for a moment and almost wished she had not asked; this sounded as though it had been very serious indeed. "So they separated you and him too. It happened to you twice."

"He was already planning to end it because he knew about... you," Anders whispered, "but... yes. Twice."

She pondered that for a minute. "Four times my heart broke," she said quietly. "Two deaths and two breakups that I didn't want. And every time Mal did something special as a baby, my heart broke for you a little bit more."

A strangled cry escaped from him at that.

"I thought I must have suffered worse... but I don't think it was so." She closed her eyes and felt tears trickle down her cheeks. "I always had somebody," she whispered. "I always had Mal, and Mother, and Carver. You were alone after they took him away—and now, to see him like this at the last. Anders, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"I had Justice."

For a moment she didn't understand, but then she thought she realized what he meant. "Is that... is that the kind of spirit it is?"

He nodded, unable to meet her eyes, gazing at the pyre. "I met him in the Fade when I had a nightmare. I think it was around the time that Mal was born, and I was very upset about missing that. I... was close to making a bargain with a desire demon that knew where the phylacteries were stored... but he intervened and told me it was a trick. He had been drawn to me because of my anger about what had happened to us, the injustice of being torn from you and our son."

"Oh, Anders..."

"I didn't see him again until my Harrowing. He helped me defeat the demon I faced. Then... they sent Karl away, and I tried to escape, and that was when they caught me and locked me away for a year. He—Justice—was always there, in my dreams, and I became a Spirit Healer through the connection. The Templars never knew. He didn't want this, Caitlyn," he said. "He is one of the Maker's first children, a force of good, the embodiment of a virtue. He never lied to me or tricked me into letting him... share. He never wanted to leave the Fade at all, let alone possess anyone."

"What happened, then?" she asked. "How did this... come to be?"

"My Warden colleagues and I were sent into the Fade by a talking darkspawn, and he assisted us, but the foe that cast us out forced him out too. For helping us, he was rewarded by losing his home. He took over the body of a deceased Warden for a time, but... it wouldn't have lasted. And that Templar I mentioned... the one who joined the Wardens... tried to destroy the body, and almost did."

She considered that. "That was when you decided to make your bargain?"

"I don't even know if 'bargain' is the right word. He would have... died, if that means anything. I just wanted to help him. He had helped me—saved my life, I think—and I couldn't let him just disappear forever, as if he'd never existed. He and I were going to work together to bring justice to mages... to make sure that what happened to us, to our family, never happened to another mage child, or parent, or lover... but when I took him in, he... changed."

"Anders," she said, feeling bad that her tone was hardening again, but he seemed to be hinting at something that she did not like at all, something that made her scalp prickle with unease at the very thought of it. She had a child to protect, even from his own father if necessary. "If you are telling me that he did become a demon—"

"It's not like that! He's still Justice... but when I become angry, when I see injustices against mages, he comes out, and he is a force of vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy." His face was hard and dark suddenly, and she realized that there was more to this story. Something had happened, something bad. He would not say that otherwise. If she had to guess, she would have guessed that the ex-Templar Warden who had tried to kill the spirit had not survived long after...

But that was for another time. For now, she just wanted to understand. "So... he talks to you?"

"Not exactly. I feel his thoughts, but sometimes they are less distinct than my own and sometimes more. He's a part of me now." He gazed out at the pyre again. "It was the only thing I could do to save him, in any way at all—and it darkened his nature to do it." He choked on another sob. "Three people who mattered to me, who were there for me... and I couldn't protect any of you." A tear trickled down his cheek, which he wiped away furiously. "He did more for Karl than I could, in the end. He gave Karl one last glimpse of being human, being a mage. All I could give Karl was death."

At that, she wanted to reach out and hold him, but she did not dare. She ached to comfort him, though, and tried to think of something to say. "You gave that to Karl too," she finally said in a gentle tone. "Because this spirit was acting through you, you were part of it."

He considered that before nodding. "I suppose so. I..." His voice broke again. "I just wish I could have done more. I'm a Healer, and he is a spirit of Justice. We are supposed to protect the innocent... but it seems that all I can do is deal out death after I fail and then gather the ashes." He leaned forward, crying into his hands. "I wish I could have saved him. I wish I could have saved your father and your sister. I even wish..." He stopped talking, unable to finish. "Caitlyn, you're not the only one with guilt."

"I'm the one who deserves it. It's not your fault that any of them died. It is my fault that I held onto a grudge that was based on a falsehood and then turned against you tonight."

He was silent for a moment. "About that."

Suddenly the moment of bonding, even over mutual grief, seemed shattered. Caitlyn felt a sense of foreboding; his tone had changed.

"I believe you now. I believe your apology was sincere... and I've seen a different side of you than the raging cruelty. I have seen it when you are with Mal... and I've seen it just now, since you came to me here. The young woman from Lothering is still there." He gazed at her, reaching out a hand momentarily as if to caress her face, before catching himself and drawing it back. "I understand, I think, why you cultivated this anger."

"It was less painful to believe you were staying away on purpose and to be angry at you than to think of your suffering," she whispered. "I didn't think I would ever see you again. I didn't think it could ever hurt anyone. But then we did meet again... and you told me what had really happened... and the guilt is just too much. I don't know..."

He sighed deeply. "I understand, but you can't do it again, Caitlyn. You just can't. You have to find a way to deal with it if you want another chance with me."

She felt her hackles rise. "Can you control your spirit? It's a force of vengeance when you get angry, you said. Can I trust you around my family—around our little boy?" she said defensively.

"Yes, you can, especially around him and yourself. The entire reason he came to me was how I felt about what happened to us. He wants to protect you and Mal more than he wants to protect me." He stared hard at her. "You're deflecting. You don't have a rage demon; this anger is entirely your own. You can't lash out cruelly whenever it flares up and then think it just vanishes, forgotten, if you apologize."

"If you're saying that I can never become angry with you—"

"Of course not!" he exclaimed. "I'm saying that I can't continue... we can't try to have anything... if you're cruel like you were tonight. There's a difference between being angry about something and... that. You said you feel guilty about harboring rage against me for so long, but you don't have to. Until tonight, that anger didn't hurt me. It didn't touch me at all. There was nothing for you to feel guilty about until tonight. Just let it go, and let go of the guilt too."

She closed her eyes. "It's easier to say that than to do it," she said quietly. "You never deserved the things I thought about you—the things I made myself believe. Even if you didn't know I was thinking them, I know it. And it has hurt you now." She gazed at him, eyes wide with pain. "We could have died tonight, all of us, because of what I did to you in the fight. And then afterward... Maker, it was awful." She turned to the pyre. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the burning body of Karl, hoping that he was listening from beyond the Fade. "You wanted me to take care of him... and the first thing I did was mock what happened to you and hurt him." Yet more tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke to Anders once more. "I'll try, Anders—I'll try. I don't know how, but I don't want you to suffer anymore."

Anders was silent for a while. Finally he spoke again. "I do understand about feeling guilty over harboring anger and resentment that never actually hurt anyone. I have never told anyone this," he said, "but when I think about what happened to the Circle of Ferelden... there is a dark part of me that thinks they got what complacent mages have coming to them for meekly accepting their lot. I resented them for most of the last three years I was there. I couldn't tell any of them about you... and I never even told Karl about our child... but while I was thinking about your family in Lothering, they seemed satisfied with having shallow relationships and bowing to the Templars. I never took it out on them, but I saw them as part of the problem." He glowered. "If they had lived, they still would be. I know that. And I hate thinking it. It's horrible. It's unworthy." The glower left his face, replaced by an empty, hollow expression. "They died tragically. Many of them were children. They didn't deserve that, and they didn't deserve my hatred—even though it never hurt them. I know how you feel."

"How do you cope with it?" she asked.

He sighed. "It's easier because I don't have to face any of them."

She gazed down. "I don't have any answers for you. I guess... tragedies don't erase the past. A tragic, undeserved death does not take away someone's failings in life. They could be undeserving of their fates, but still wrong in their ideas when they lived." She opened her palms to him emptily. "That's the best I can offer."

He nodded. "I came to think the same thing, more or less."

"As for my own... problems... I meant what I said. I will try not to let that happen again."

He breathed heavily. "Caitlyn... I hate to issue an ultimatum... but I need more than that. If you had not come here, if you had not been sincere and kind, and listened, it would have been the end. Of chances," he added to clarify. "Of possibilities. Your words hurt. I wasn't happy when you attacked me in the fight either, but I'm sure the appearance of Justice was frightening. The words, though... you were extremely cruel. And I can't take it—I just can't. Not again."

"What do you want from me?" she burst out unhappily. "I regret it, Anders! I would take it back if I could. I don't want it to happen again!"

"It's not something that 'happens,'" he said. "It's something you can control. I need your word, if you can give it."

She turned aside, grimacing, her eyes closed tightly. Her heart was thudding. He was right, she knew—it was something she could control—but she had so much doubt nevertheless, and she was petrified of giving him a promise that she was not sure she could keep.

Moments passed, each one seeming like an eternity, though it was only a couple of seconds in total. Finally she opened her eyes. "I promise I won't do it again," she said, the words feeling like a prophecy of doom. I will keep my word, though, she vowed privately. I must.

He moved aside on his rock, leaving just enough space for her, and patted the empty spot. She hesitated, but only for a moment. In the next, she was beside him on the warm rock, the two of them leaning into each other and shaking from sobs that burst forth almost spontaneously.

"What happened to us?" she whispered through tears, burying her face against his shoulder for comfort and never wanting to let him go.

He cradled her, not knowing what to say.

"The last time..." She hesitated; this was not a romantic embrace, and she did not want to give him the wrong idea—but they had been lovers, and it was pointless to ignore that as if it had never happened. In this very conversation, they had danced about the subject with words like "chances" and "possibilities." "The last time we were... holding each other... my father and sister were alive... I was pregnant... everything seemed so bright and hopeful..." She burst out crying, wretched-sounding, embarrassingly achy sobs escaping from her mouth all the while.

She felt something wet drip onto her forehead and realized that it was a tear of his. "I don't know," he whispered. "I look back on the past few years and all I see is death and destruction in my wake. I've corrupted a pure and good spirit who was a great friend to me. Your father died because of me. Karl died because of me. Maybe even your sister."

It was horrible to hear him speak the very words that she had told herself to nurture and nourish her anger at him and absolve herself of her own guilt. "No!" she burst out with a choked gulp. "That's not true. My sister... I'm responsible for her death, Anders." A shuddering cry escaped her at the admission she was going to make. "When Leliana broke up with me, she told me she had done it because she knew I still cared about you."

"It was the same for Karl," he said softly.

"She went off with the Grey Wardens just after that, but before she left, she told me she would ask about you at the Circle and write to me with what she learned there. I know now why she was delayed... but I made the family wait for the letter that never came." She wept into his shoulder. "That's why Bethany died. I made us stay too late. The town was overrun." She choked. "An ogre was about to kill Mal, and me with him... and she rushed up to defend us. It's all my fault. Not yours."

Anders could not speak for a moment. "You don't know that," he finally choked out. "You don't know what would have happened if you had left earlier. They might have already been on the path you took." He squeezed her. "I was too late as well. Just a few days sooner and I would have been there with you." He rested his cheek on the top of her head, closing his eyes to block out the pain. "But your father... he was helping me. He was exposed to the Blight sickness because he was on the road with me. Karl was used as bait by another pack of lawless zealot Templars because he cared about me. All I have left behind me is death, and it's wrong. I'm a Healer. Maybe even... I don't know, I might have been able to save lives in the Circle if I'd stayed. I might have been able to defeat the demons and blood mages. I'll never know."

"Or you might have been killed along with the others," she said quietly, still suppressing sobs.

He was silent for another moment. "I probably would have."

Caitlyn remained pressed against him, her face buried against his feather-clad shoulder. The feathers on his coat were now damp with her tears and his, and it was a strange and unpleasant sensation against her cheek, but she thought it seemed fitting. He was still shaking from his sobs, she noticed. She wrapped her arms gently around his waist to comfort him a little with a hug. It seemed to help; his own hug tightened.

She had cried for her father when Carver brought home his body and many nights thereafter. She had also spent many nights during her pregnancy crying for Anders, until the grief and miserable uncertainty became too much to bear. Since arriving in Kirkwall and having to live in Gamlen's run-down hovel with no privacy, with his sneering disdain just around the corner, she had suppressed most of her tears for Bethany—but now they were coming out freely. She realized, as he held her and shook from his own sobs, that he too was mourning everyone he had lost, everyone he couldn't save, beginning with the one whose body was being consumed by the flames.

She lifted her head just enough to gaze out at the pyre. I'm sorry I didn't promise what you wanted me to at the last, she thought. I will do it now. I'll try my best to take care of him.

As the sparks flew high into the air and her tears and sobs finally, gradually subsided, she reflected on the strangeness of the situation and the many questions that had arisen. Even if it is a spirit of Justice, even if it is part of his soul now, he is possessed, she thought. I am glad it is not a demon—I'm glad he is still himself—but this will be a difficult thing to adjust to. It may be a good spirit, but it was menacing tonight, and it will be there for the rest of Anders' life.

I am holding a possessed man who is the father of my child, while he sobs for the loss of another man who used to be his lover—but I had a female partner. And I have no idea what to feel about any of that. Can we trust each other? Can we trust ourselves? They comforted us... they were there for us... and we were separated for a long time... but we did turn to others for comfort, both of us. And even if we have a future, can we be satisfied? If we do try again... then might I someday miss being with a woman, and he with a man? What then? I'm far too prone to jealousy to consider "sharing," and I don't think he would go for that either.

I gave him my word that I would check my cruel spiteful anger. I must keep that promise. I have to control this. I have to make it go away with respect to him. He doesn't deserve it. There are plenty of things and people who do deserve my anger—beginning with this appalling, wicked system that did this to us in the first place. Chantry law about mages is to blame for most of our suffering, the Blight for some of it, and the cruelty and apathy in this city for the rest. We can fight those things. He is helping people who lost their homes, and often relatives, to the Blight. If this spirit he hosts can be kept from darkness, it might actually be beneficial to mages to have that voice, that beacon of idealism, that tireless drive. And I am going to get the Amell estate back and become somebody in Kirkwall. I am going to do something about this situation. This anger can be productive.

Finally, she felt a bit better. She gazed out at the pyre once again as she spoke to Anders. "We can try to make sure that they didn't die in vain, any of them," she said, her voice quiet but resolute.

He lifted his head and gazed at her. "How?"

"I... don't have a solid plan," she admitted, "but I swear, I will do something. For them." She thought for a moment and added, "For our child. For all the mage children, parents, and couples." She sighed again. "For the Blight refugees."

He finally managed a grin. "That's very ambitious."

"The anger is not going anywhere," she said in a low voice, her gaze cast down. "I just have to find deserving targets for it." He gave her another silent hug before she rose to her feet unsteadily. "I should go," she finally said. She gazed out at the pyre one last time. "I should let you mourn him, without... all of this."

"He would probably prefer that we think about how to get justice for mages than be sad about him," Anders said, a sad smile on his face.

"He was still your... friend," she said, "and you should have time alone for this. You are welcome to come to my uncle's house if you want... but I'll understand if you want to be by yourself tonight." She gazed long at him. "Thank you for giving me another chance."


After she left, he thought about the conversation. She had meant what she said, of that he was certain—and he wanted to believe that she would keep her promise—but would she? Would her resolve last? He could not go through life accepting such cruelty from a person he cared for. If it did continue, he would cease to care for her. He was on the verge of it tonight, until she had turned up. Justice's presence made it harder for him to accept vicious cruelty, and more inclined to steel and harden himself against caring about any who did that to him—even her.

Please, don't do it again, he thought, as if he could reach her thoughts with his own. I don't want to stop caring. I don't want this to happen. Please find a productive outlet for this anger, if you cannot let go of it.

He turned back to the pyre and sighed. The outrage of the spirit's voice began to simmer inside him again.

I will not let this happen again, he swore, and I swear to you, I will find the exact Templars who did this to you—and if they aren't already dead, I will make sure I personally end their lives. There is never a reason to do this—mages who "choose" it because they're afraid of the Harrowing should be told what the Harrowing is like, to prepare for it, and dwarves can work with lyrium. The Circles don't need a supply of destroyed humans and elves. There is never a reason to do it—but it's even worse to do it to someone to use him as bait to catch someone else. It wasn't about Karl's fears, or even about exploiting his labor. It was about me. That bastard Rolan must have had associates who learned from the Wardens that he was dead, and correctly guessed that I killed him, and some of his fellow zealots are here in Kirkwall. I will find out who they are. If I have not yet done so, I will avenge you, Karl, and I will make sure that whoever they are, they can never hurt a mage again.

The pyre burned long into the night. When at last it was nothing but embers and ash, he extinguished it and, yet again, gathered the ashes to take back with him.

He thought about her offer to spend the night at her house. It was tempting... but they would probably both think they had to talk some more, and it wouldn't be a good idea. They needed rest first. He would visit the house in the morning.


Caitlyn was anxious and unhappy that night and the next morning when Anders did not show up. Was that all for nothing? she thought as she rose from her bedroll. Did he change his mind after I left? Carver continued to give her hard, disapproving looks all morning even though she had returned late, implying that she had followed Anders and talked with him the night before. He had not followed her, and apparently Carver assumed that meant that the conversation had not ended positively. I thought it did, she thought unhappily as she gave Mal his breakfast, a bowl of porridge, and began to eat her own. I thought we ended on a hopeful note. But if he changed his mind...

A loud knock on the door interrupted the family's breakfast. She jumped in her seat as her mother rose to go to the door. Was it Anders or Varric—or one of the associates of the Templars that they had killed last night?

Leandra opened the door to reveal a familiar young mage in a feather-pauldron coat. He gazed inside as she welcomed him warmly. Caitlyn leaped up from her chair.

"You're here!" she exclaimed. "I was worried."

He smiled mildly as Leandra hurried him into an extra chair at the table. "I needed to be alone last night," he said. "It was... a lot to think about."

Carver gazed from Anders to his sister and then glowered down at his bowl of porridge, but at least he was not shooting her contemptuous glares anymore.

"Won't you have breakfast?" Leandra fussed over him. "There is plenty..."

He suppressed a shrug as she pushed a bowl before him and slopped porridge into it. He had eaten breakfast at the clinic, but he was a Grey Warden, and he was hungry quite often. Nodding his thanks to her, he tucked in. It was quite good.

After the family were finished eating their meal, Anders took Caitlyn aside. "Could we talk?"

She nodded at once. He did not look grave or appear to be dreading what he had to say, so she felt hopeful. Mal gazed up at his parents. "Can I come?" he pleaded.

Leandra realized that they needed to speak privately. She hurried to her grandson and urged him away, toward the dog. "I think your mamma and father need to talk alone," she explained to him. "Let's play with Baldwin." The little boy seemed vaguely put out, but only for a moment, as the intelligent dog rose up from the floor to wag its tail at him.

Caitlyn and Anders walked out of the house and went to a private back alley. He studied her, considering. She did not seem to be in an angry or hostile mood today. The change had at least lasted through the night; that was a good thing.

"As I said inside, I thought about a lot of things last night," he said quietly. "I want to try again, first. If... if you want to. If you are comfortable with me. And Justice," he added.

She gazed outward. "I am nervous about him. I can't say otherwise. You may know him as a friend who helped you and defended you in the Fade against demons, but my first experience with him was what I saw last night—the spirit taking you over and fighting violently. Yes, they deserved it—but that's the first I saw of him."

He considered her point of view. "I understand, I think," he said. "And... in the spirit of honesty..."

"Don't tell me you have one of those too."

Startled, he gaped at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. She managed a grin, pleased that she could make him laugh, but it did not last long; he was focused on the conversation topic. "No, only Justice!" he said. "But I was going to tell you, just so that we don't have any more big secrets between us—"

"No more surprises?"

"No more surprises," he agreed. The smile faded from his face. "The Templar who joined the Grey Wardens to harass me... the one who damaged the body that he was inhabiting... he also drew his blade on me before he did that, as he threatened to report the Warden-Commander to some highly placed Seeker for having 'unsupervised mages' like me and especially for having Justice around. It was supposed to be self-defense, what happened..." He trailed off. "We knocked him out and put him to sleep, and then we... did the merge. He came to just as we were finishing it."

"I thought that you must have killed him," she said quietly, looking down.

Anders nodded. "He deserved it, honestly, and not just because he had it in for me. For a time, he was the one at the Circle who performed the Rite of Tranquility, because he believed mages were all doomed to the Void without it—and an awful lot of mages died in his custody while he did it."

"He murdered them," she concluded at once.

"Yes. The Knight-Commander dismissed him from the tower, but he did not punish or otherwise sanction him for what he had done. He had escaped true justice... until that day."

"And he tried to kill you and Justice, you said. I'm glad you told me this, but there is nothing wrong with self-defense. You shouldn't feel guilty about that."

Anders grimaced. "It wasn't self-defense by the time he came to. I had already taken away his sword, and I charged him—we charged him—with no more than a verbal provocation. It was vengeance, Caitlyn. And it... was gruesome." He sighed. "I don't like remembering the details. While it was happening, the spirit was in control. After he was... finished, I went to the Warden-Commander. I honestly expected her to execute me, but instead, she exiled me from Ferelden and sent me here. She showed me mercy."

"She seems like a wonderful person," Caitlyn said quietly, to fill space in the conversation. She was thinking about what he had said. It did trouble her that he would speak of the spirit being "in control" and acting violently, but it was exactly of a piece with what he had told her last night of the spirit having no mercy and becoming a force of vengeance when he was angry. Finally she asked, "I know you have said that he knows who I am, and who Mal is... but are you certain that there is no threat to us? What if I did something that he disapproved of?"

Anders considered her question. "I cannot promise that he would never seize control again. He does it when he's angry, and he might express his disapproval verbally... but it doesn't mean he's going to become violent, that I do promise. And no, he has never had a thought that threatened you or Mal—or anyone in your family. He didn't lash out at you last night, after all, even when he was in control."

She nodded, accepting his reasoning, though her behavior the previous night was still painful for her to think about. "Anders," she finally said, "I cannot imagine what it is like for you now, and what I have to say may have no relevance to what you experience... but it seems to me that if he really is part of you, as you said, then you have influence over him."

"I know I do at that," he said bitterly. "It was my anger that turned him into what he is now."

"Then your state of mind can influence him in the other direction too. I know this may sound odd, coming from me, and I need to take my own advice," she said darkly, "but just... keep to the light. I don't mean to back away from addressing an injustice, but... I guess make sure that whatever you do is proportional to the injustice, and that it's directed at the person who is responsible, and that it really is justice rather than... than personal revenge or venting anger. And yes," she said again, "I need to take my own advice about that." She gazed sadly at him. "We can work on it together."

He nodded. "Yes, we could."

Caitlyn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is something I'll have to get used to," she said, "but you told me that he saved your life in the Circle, perhaps more than once. He saved you from a demon. And he was your friend and comrade in the Wardens and probably saved your life in the physical world too. Since this is the case, I'll always try to value and respect him for that." It was hard to say, but she knew it had to be said. Saying it was a spoken promise.

"Thank you for that," he whispered. He seemed to understand what it took for her to say it.

"It's the least I can do."

He gazed sadly at her. "I told you no more surprises and I meant it. What I am about to say will sound presumptuous, and I should also warn you that it is a Grey Warden secret, so you shouldn't tell this to anyone else... but you need to know, if we really are going to... to consider a future."

She waited.

He steeled himself. "Wardens aren't just names in a roll book. It's not like the army. There is a ritual... and it's permanent and irreversible."

"The sacrifices you mentioned that Wardens make?"

He nodded. "One of them... a side effect of this ritual... is infertility."

She stared at him, horrified for him. Her right hand found its way to her mouth. He missed most of my pregnancy and all of Mal's infancy, and now he can never have another child. "Oh, Anders," she burst out.

He looked miserable. "I know. And if that's not something you could live with..."

Instantly she moved to hug him, though it was still a comfort hug rather than a romantic one. "It's all right," she said quietly next to his ear. "It's all right." She didn't want to say to him that it didn't matter, because it certainly did matter to him, but it would never be a reason to turn him away and she hoped that her actions told him that.

He did seem to understand, as he hugged her back gently. "It's hard to think about," he said, "especially since... the lost years..." He trailed off; it was too sad and infuriating to talk about. "This is what mages have to do to have a chance of living a life free of fear. We have to give up the chance of having a family... or, if we're very lucky, expanding the one we already have. And even being a Warden doesn't seem to be enough if you offend the 'wrong' Templars!"

She sucked her breath between her teeth. "It will end. We will make sure it stops. Someday. He won't live this way."

He nodded firmly. "No. He won't. Justice and I agree completely about that."

There was another potent silence before he spoke once more. "I still care about you," he said. "I always did. I... never stopped loving you."

She was not sure exactly where he was going with this, but he seemed to want to know whether she returned the feeling. "I didn't either," she said. "Despite how it looked last night."

He smiled sadly. "Then if you want... could we try again someday? Once I've mourned... and we have made peace with everything... and we've gotten to know each other again as we are now?"

She took a long, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. Here it was, then. This was the question she had both longed for and feared to hear, but in the end, there was no doubt of her answer. "I would like that," she said softly. "The innocent young couple who met in a snowstorm and only wanted a quiet, simple life are gone. This is who we are now."