Notes: Song is "Possession" by Otep.
Warning: Graphic violence and torture. In addition... well, I can't say too much without spoiling it, but one particular aspect is Vengeance's idea, not Anders', and you'll know what I mean.
Chapter 42: Something's Taking Over Me
Anders tried to keep his anger somewhat in check as he stormed from his private office, Varric and Aveline following close behind, the scroll from Ser Thrask in one hand. He felt the surge of Fade energy repeatedly as Justice tried to seize control and handle this himself, but Anders knew, as angry as he was, he could not actually confront Meredith—or, for that matter, tell the Grand Cleric—with a Fade spirit in control of his body.
He had slammed the doors open to the outer Keep, relishing the loud echo that sounded like the tolling of a great bell, when he heard yet more voices. Anders attempted to compose himself, breathing heavily through his nose as the people who were talking approached. As they did, he could better make out what they were saying—and it quickly became, again, all that he could do not to burst into a rage that would give control to his spirit.
"Your Highness, Her Grace is not here," explained a man hurriedly. Aveline looked up in surprise at the voice, and Anders was sure he recognized it too. "I might advise you to wait for Regent Anders to see you..."
"Regent Anders?" exclaimed the other person, deeply disapproving.
"Yes, Highness. She has authorized him to act for her in all things. I trust that the Regent can see you for your business just as well as the Viscountess..."
"But where is she? How long will she be gone?"
"I'm not at liberty to say, Highness."
At this, Anders and his two companions rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-face with Donnic Hendyr and Prince Sebastian.
Anders thought he had recognized that Starkhaven accent, and he could not account for who else might merit the title of "Highness." He was furious and impatient, but not surprised, by whom he saw. He halted in his tracks and glared at the prince. "What in the Void are you doing here?" he snarled.
Affronted, Sebastian drew back, a scowl appearing on his face. "I came to see the Viscountess to sue for a truce, in fact," he said.
Anders barked a cynical laugh. "Then you brought Elthina, and she has already been taken into custody? Because there will be no truce while she is free to spread her lies, conspire with Maker knows whom from afar, and undermine Cai—the Viscountess."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed even further. "Grand Cleric Elthina—"
Donnic, Aveline, and Varric all glowered at these words, and Anders interrupted him at once. "She is no such thing. She is not even a priest now. She is nothing but a traitor who escaped from the Kirkwall jail to avoid justice."
"What is the matter with you two?" Sebastian burst out, sounding entitled and angry but sincere in his way. "You got what you wanted! You got your own ally as Kirkwall's Grand Cleric, and you now live in the Keep and rule the city. You won your Game, yet you still insist on having Elthina. Why? This seems to be nothing but vengeance because she fought against your efforts to remove her."
Anders tried to hide his dark smile as he replied. "Vengeance? No, justice. You truly think it was nothing but the Great Game, apparently, and that after we 'won,' we would drop the 'pretense' otherwise. It wasn't. We weren't lying. She is guilty of a crime against Kirkwall, and more importantly, she is undermining the new ruler with the venom she spreads to her agents and supporters here." He stepped forward. "I don't have time for this. As the guard told you, I am in charge of the city while the Viscountess is abroad—yes, you heard right," he said pointedly as Sebastian's eyes widened, taking in the implication of that—that she was seeking an alliance. "These are my terms, and I'm positive that she would say the same thing. If you want us even to consider a truce, hand over Elthina first."
"Elthina is not in Starkhaven," Sebastian said, coldness suddenly entering his words, "and I cannot produce her even if I wished to."
"Which you don't," Anders sneered. "She is in Tantervale, then, assuming you're telling the truth. But as I just said, I have more important things to worry about now—such as a criminal Templar and a plot called 'the Tranquil Solution' to destroy every mage in Thedas! Donnic," he said, "give him a room, if he wishes to wait until she returns... but don't let him leave it."
"Are you taking me prisoner?" the prince burst out.
Anders had not intended that, but as soon as he realized that Sebastian was fearful and indignant at the idea, he instantly resolved to let him wonder—and worry. He strode off without another word.
They quickly brought Mal to the Amell house to visit with his grandmother and relatives, allowing him to take Pounce with him as well. Mal missed his mother and her dog, and Anders felt bad about pushing his son on the extended family like this rather than spending time with him himself—but a not-quite-seven-year-old had no business witnessing what he was sure was about to happen. They had turned toward the Gallows when a man stepped out of a shadowed alley. It was Thrask.
"Your Grace," he said to Anders. "I see that you got my message."
"We are on our way to take care of the problem," Anders said, "unless you have more to say now?"
"I do," the Templar said grimly. "Alrik is not at the Gallows right now. He and a large party of... associates... who I believe are conspirators with him and longtime allies on the subject of the 'Tranquil Solution,' as they call it—"
Anders was glowering at this term, and trying hard not to glow as well. Justice was going to burst out before this was over, he was increasingly sure.
"—have entered the tunnels that connect to Darktown to try to pursue a mage. She wished to visit her family, as the Grand Cleric recently allowed, but Alrik denied her request. She fled anyway rather than appeal to the Knight-Commander. If he catches her..."
"Then we don't have a moment to lose," Anders declared. "I know the tunnels you're talking about. Yes, of course I do," he added for the benefit of Aveline and Donnic, whose eyebrows all flew up. Varric was unsurprised. "That cannot be a surprise to anyone. Come on. We have to stop them!"
"How large is this party?" Aveline asked Thrask as they headed quickly for the nearest entrance to Darktown. "We might need more guards!"
"Surely they won't put up a fight against the Regent and Guard-Captain," Donnic said.
Anders peered blackly at him, shaking his head, ready to believe the worst of any Templars who liked using the Rite of Tranquility on mages. "They won't respect me at all," he said, "but we don't have time to return to the Keep to get more guards. We'll have to make do."
The group descended deeper and deeper into the bowels of Kirkwall, where even the shabby, deteriorating, dust-laden structure of Darktown gave way to caves and raw tunnels with only the barest of wooden platforms and rustic steps to aid foot traffic. Every now and then, a body or a skeleton was shoved into a corner, usually picked clean of anything valuable by the smugglers that trafficked in these tunnels. Some of the remains were covered in bloodstained mage robes. These tunnels were used by the Mage Underground, the network that spirited apostates out of the city, but the risk of running into violent criminal smugglers was ever-present for desperate mages. As Anders advanced, leading the group, he felt his rage stir even more at the sight of a small robed body, broken and mummified, thrown away like so much trash. A mage child, he thought in fury as he hurried along, taken from his family, perhaps. He fled for a reason. Abuse? Fear? Or did he just want to see his family again, like I did for so many years? And this is all the life he had. No doubt his parents think him safe in the Circle even now, since the Templars tell families nothing. He couldn't have been but three or so years older than my own son... Thoughts of Mal came unbidden and unwanted, and he tried to push them aside before fury—and Justice—overtook him.
Thoughts of Karl came to his mind instead. Those were much harder to push aside. She told me once that he knew what a loving relationship was because of me, he thought, and because of that, I've made peace with the fact that he never truly had my heart, but I never avenged him. When we killed Rolan, we avenged Caitlyn. Although what happened to her family wasn't as bad as I had feared, what did happen was Rolan's fault. I never avenged Karl.
Caitlyn might never have said those awful things to me that night if Karl had not been destroyed. Justice wouldn't have come out, surprising her, and she might have been able to come to terms with her guilt about resenting me, hating me, whatever it was, before her defenses flared up like they did so horribly that night. I could have sent him back to Ferelden, where maybe he would have joined the Wardens. This Templar took that away from all of us. This is the one who destroyed him. I had hoped that we had killed the one who did it that first night, but I suppose I always knew that we hadn't. Justice must have known the truth, somehow. He stared ahead as he passed through the tunnels. His reign of terror and tyranny will come to an end at last.
Anders could feel the Fade tugging at his soul as righteous anger suffused him. Justice was very close to emerging, but at this point, Anders was so deeply immersed in a pool of outrage that he accepted it.
As the group rounded the corner, the desperate voice of a young female mage broke the grim silence. Her words rang through his mind, bringing all sorts of horrible memories back.
"I just wanted to see my mum!"
A twelve-year-old boy cowered before a brawny armed man whose face was hidden by a helmet. "I just wanted to see my mum again. I just wanted to go home. I just wanted to—"
"Please. No one ever told her where they were taking me," pleaded the mage girl.
The same boy, now a twenty-three-year-old man, wept under his covers at the thought of the family he had left. Did they—did she—even know what had happened? Had they found Malcolm's body and realized what it meant that he, Anders, wasn't there? Did they know how much he wanted to get back to them, to go home, to offer what comfort he could?
Anders was stricken for these flashbacks, his face drawn and lined. Even Justice was unable to act at the moment, so much had he changed and grown since merging with the mind and soul of a mortal person. He felt the pain too. But then, as the group of people came into view for Anders and his team, another voice filled the dank air that got Justice's attention.
"You know what happens to mage girls who don't toe the line around here, don't you?"
Aveline, Donnic, Varric, and Thrask all drew their breath sharply. The words did not immediately register with Anders, but it only took a moment. In that moment, his team emerged through the last doorway, into the cave where a young olive-skinned mage cowered in terror and a bald, gray-bearded Templar smirked evilly over her. Several henchmen lurked behind him. Aveline's sharp gaze darted across the room as she counted them. A whispered curse escaped her lips as she realized the numbers they faced.
"Please, no! Don't make me Tranquil! I'll do anything!"
Thrask glowered. "The mages still fear it, even now," he muttered.
"That's right," Alrik said, leering. "Once you're Tranquil, you'll do anything I ask."
The Fade energy that had been gnawing at Anders for the entire trek suddenly filled him as the full, despicable import of the Templar's words hit him. Justice, Vengeance, what does it matter in a case like this? he thought as the spirit took him over.
"I will kill every one of you!" he roared in the spirit's voice. He formed a ball of magical energy at the end of his staff and hurled it at Alrik, heedless of the proximity of the young mage. The magical blast struck the Templar, who keeled over, twitching on the ground, as his henchmen quickly engaged the others in Anders' group.
Donnic Hendyr and Thrask were startled at the sight of Anders as the Fade spirit acted through his body, but they had the sense and presence of mind not to become distracted. The two of them, and Aveline, exchanged sword blows with several of the Templars, and Varric sent crossbow bolts into the poorly armored legs of others, even as a Templar with two extremely sharp daggers bounded forward to try to take out Anders. Anders—Justice?—snarled in anger and sent another blast at this Templar. It struck, exploding the man's midsection, sending a shower of blood and gore around the cave as his head and four limbs flew in separate directions.
Alrik was, alas, not dead; he apparently had better armor or more innate strength than his unfortunate soldier. At the sight of the bloody explosion, Alrik gaped in shock. The young mage was trying to scramble away from the fray, even as the dead man's blood dripped from her hair.
His eyes glowing bluish-white, Anders turned to a corner where another dual-wielding hunter was about to leap at him. He blasted the Templar with the same spell, striking the man's head directly this time. It burst like a ripe melon, covering the stone walls in red. The headless body sagged to the ground as streams of bloodied, sticky bone and brains trickled down the wall.
The sight of the Regent of Kirkwall, magically bonded with Maker knew what, blowing up his fellows with a single powerful blast, was too much for one of the Templars. "Stand down!" shouted this man, throwing his sword to the ground in surrender.
"Are you mad?" roared Alrik, clanging his blade against Aveline's.
"You think you stand a chance against that?" At these words, several of the other Templars hesitated, and two more cast down their blades. Two more quickly followed suit, seeing that the fight was lost with so many of their side choosing to surrender.
Alrik growled in anger, but he saw the writing on the wall—or the blood—and finally cast his blade to the floor. He turned to Thrask. "You traitor," he sneered. "You told them where to find us, no doubt."
Thrask stared back unafraid. "You have violated the Grand Cleric's order."
"And committed other crimes!" roared Anders, who was still under the influence of Justice, even though the spirit was beginning to recede. "We should kill them now, every last one of them, despite their surrender!"
"Anders," Aveline said in an undertone of warning. "You represent the law of Kirkwall now. You can't do that."
"They're criminals and rapists!" Anders retorted. "They deserve death!"
Seeing the dissension, Alrik seized the advantage. "We have the right to take this before the Knight-Commander," he said. He smiled evilly at his enemies. "We'll see what she has to say."
Thrask looked appalled and shot an angry glare at Anders. "He's right," he said darkly, sheathing his sword. "Well done, Regent."
"It's not over," Varric said in an undertone to Thrask. "We can take it to the Grand Cleric."
Relief filled Thrask's face at this. "Very true."
Anders took deep breaths as Justice ceded control of his body back to him. His eyes gleamed in anger, though it was his own now. He didn't like the idea of Petrice ordering their deaths. He should be the one to do that, not that shady, dubiously moral Orlesian manipulator who cared more about fighting non-Andrastians than she did about the suffering of mages. I will do it, he vowed to himself as the others of the group began to round up the surviving Templars and disarm them entirely. I will make bloody sure I do it.
The young mage who had almost suffered an unspeakable fate was cowering in a corner that had, somehow, not been touched by blood spray. She was whimpering and covering her head between her knees. Anders approached her hesitantly and touched her shoulder when he reached her.
She gazed up at him sharply and drew back, terrified, even though Justice no longer controlled him. "Stay away from me!" she exclaimed.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Anders said.
She backed against the wall, not trusting him. "What was that?"
Anders closed his eyes momentarily. He couldn't tell her the truth. It was unfortunate that Thrask and Donnic had seen it, let alone the loathsome Templars that they had just captured—and that is another reason why they must die, he thought—but he could not tell this girl the truth. "Magic. A powerful spell to protect me," he lied. He gazed at her. "Go to your mother. They undoubtedly have your phylactery at the Circle, but Ser Thrask and I will make sure nothing happens to you. You have the right to visit her. And after that... if you can heal or fight, you have a way to leave the Gallows."
The girl got to her feet, gave him one last look of mixed fear and gratitude, and dashed away.
Donnic had been collecting the Templars' weapons in a leather bag, searching them for anything they might have concealed in their armor. With Alrik's hands cuffed behind his back, the guard withdrew a short, runed, gleaming sheathed knife and a stubby little object that vaguely resembled a sceptre in miniature. The round end of it was inscribed with the sunburst symbol. Donnic could sense something odd about these implements, but he decided not to handle them, as they were clearly magical in some way. Better to leave them for Ser Thrask—or Anders.
Anders stormed into the Knight-Commander's office. Meredith got to her feet at once, glowering in anger at the mere sight of him—especially when she saw half a dozen of her Templars, including one of her favorites, bound and disarmed. Varric had gone to the Chantry to find the Grand Cleric, and Thrask had gone off to fill out official paperwork to authorize the young mage to visit her family, to account for her absence. He had also seemed reluctant to face the Knight-Commander after this, and although Anders viewed that as cowardice, he nonetheless did not want to endanger such a useful ally among the Templars. If not for Thrask's information, the mage they had saved today would no longer be a mage, and Alrik and his hangers-on would be free to mutilate and rape more mages.
"What is the meaning of this?" Meredith demanded. "How dare you bind and disarm Templars? You have no authority to interfere in the Circle."
Anders glared back. "These Templars have defied the Grand Cleric's edict banning the Rite of Tranquility in Kirkwall."
"Oh, have they? How do you know that?"
"We have reports that they used it after she banned it, and we caught them in the act of threatening a mage with it!"
Meredith sneered. "Reports, no doubt from mage sympathizers. You have no proof that they did it after the Orlesian banned it, and apparently, they did not manage to do it to the mage you claim that they threatened."
"What did I tell you?" Anders said as an aside to the others. He turned back to her. "We trust the source of the report, and we saw them threatening a mage of this Circle who was exercising her right to see her family. They will face justice for what they have done, and you cannot shield them."
"This is a Templar matter, and I shall investigate the allegations myself. Go back to your ill-gotten Keep, mage, and take the guards with you. This does not concern any of you."
"But it does concern me."
Anders, Aveline, and Donnic whirled around. Varric was back, and beside him was Petrice, full of indignation.
"This Alrik and the others have blatantly defied me, most likely with your awareness and tacit approval," she said angrily.
"Excuse me?" Meredith snapped. "You have no evidence that—"
"I overheard you. You intend to cover for them. That is the purpose of your 'investigation.' It has been investigated quite enough, I should say! They were caught in the act of threatening to perform the Rite illegally!"
"You banned it for the Circle. That mage was an apostate once she fled!"
"She was still a mage of the Kirkwall Circle, and why did she flee? To try to protect her body, mind, and perhaps life from Alrik? Is that apostasy? Your Templars," Petrice said in fury, "have defied my edict as Grand Cleric of Kirkwall, and you are covering for them. This cannot stand."
Anders noted contemptuously that she seemed to be more offended about her authority being defied than about the horrible crimes against innocent mages. Justice nearly surged out once again at that—but Anders managed to keep him down for a little longer. "It will not stand," he said. "And they have apparently committed... meant to commit, at a minimum, though I'm sure they did it before... a crime that is against Kirkwall law too."
Meredith stiffened at this. "You would not dare—"
Anders stepped forward, the Fade magic of Justice pulsing in him, just behind his skin, right there, filling him with purpose and angry resolution. "Oh, I dare," he said through clenched teeth. "Your plan is clear. You want to find some technicality to acquit them, to say there is no proof that they used Tranquility after the Grand Cleric banned it, anything you can to keep them from facing justice for what they have done. But they did not only violate Kirkwall Chantry edicts. They are accused of rape too, and that is a criminal offense in Kirkwall—and a capital one," he added menacingly. "No one, not even Templars, is above the law. We don't live under your tyranny here. I am placing Otto Alrik and every Templar with him under arrest for rape, attempted rape, and being accomplices to rape. Back off, Knight-Commander."
She reached for her sword, but Anders slung his staff off his back. "I said back off," he warned again.
A grim smile bloomed on Petrice's face. "You heard the Regent. The Chantry does not harbor accused criminals."
"They have the right to claim sanctuary—"
"Only in the Chantry. Not inside the Gallows," Anders said.
"They will not set foot on the Chantry steps," Petrice vowed.
"There is no precedent for Templars to be tried under secular criminal law!" Meredith exploded.
"Then I am setting the precedent now," Anders replied. He motioned to Aveline and her guards to take them away.
"How dare you?" Meredith roared. "The only reason you presume to claim the right to do this is because Hawke manipulated events to steal a crown, probably using malign magic to do it, and she spreads her legs for you at night! While I am a faithful servant of the Maker, anointed by His soldiers that fight against the scourge—"
Anders was already on the verge of exploding at her insults to Caitlyn. Hearing magic described as a scourge did it. He snapped. With a sharp jerk of his staff arm, he cast a blast of cold at the Knight-Commander, immobilizing her momentarily. He sneered at her, aware that it would thaw quickly—and it began to at once—but he had made his point. With the others following behind, he stormed out.
"I meant what I said," Petrice informed Anders back at the Keep. "They defied me, and Meredith has protected them. And according to the account that you gave, this Alrik has committed rape before. 'Mage girls who don't toe the line,' he said. They are all yours just for that. It is not the Chantry's jurisdiction to prosecute accused rapists."
"Has it ever prosecuted Templars before?" he asked pointedly.
She managed a grim smile. "Yes, in fact," she said, "but admittedly it is rare, and becoming rarer in recent ages. Still, they broke Kirkwall law too, and I will not protect them." She rose from her seat after he did, then turned back, remembering one last thing. "I should warn you, Meredith may try to appeal to the Knight-Vigilant for the right to handle it herself—which, of course, would mean to do nothing."
"Then I will make sure the Knight-Vigilant cannot stay their sentence," he said darkly. "I would rather fight with him from afar about something that can't be undone than have that lot walking around, free to hurt more mage children. And I'm sure that Ca—the Viscountess would agree."
After the Grand Cleric had left, Anders took several deep breaths to attempt to calm himself. They will be put to death, he thought. They will not walk free. It might have been more cathartic to do it in combat, in that cave, but they will die, and that's what counts. Justice will be served. Hear that, Justice? You will be served. There is no need to rage and become vengeful now. We'll just carry out the law and send them to the Void where they belong.
He rose from his seat and left the little office. All of a sudden he wanted to see his son again. I'll invite all of them to the Keep for dinner tonight, he thought. I wish Caitlyn were here—I really need to hug her—but she is on her way to Ferelden, where she will make an alliance to help Kirkwall... against...
At this thought, he remembered that Sebastian Vael was still there.
Anders hovered over Mal's bed late that night, closing the book that he had just read to him. The child gazed back at his father, hazel eyes wide and innocent. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "I overheard people talking about some bad Templars."
"Everything is fine," Anders assured him. "We caught those Templars, and they are going to go to trial and..." He trailed off.
"And die for what they did?"
Anders took a deep breath and let it out. He's not innocent at all anymore, he thought sadly. "Yes," he said to his son. "They are."
"What did they do?"
Anders closed his eyes momentarily. "They did a horrible thing to mages that cuts them off from the Fade, from their magic, from their own feelings and dreams—"
"Tranquil?"
Oh, my poor little boy, you shouldn't even know what that is! You should not know any meaning of that word other than "peaceful and calm." Miserably Anders gazed at Mal and nodded. "It's illegal here, but they did it anyway. And... they did something else too. They... hurt mages' bodies, where no one should ever touch someone else if they don't want it. It's a horrible crime and they will die for what they have done. And I promise you, you will never go to a Circle. Your mother and I will teach you until you know as much as we do."
Mal nodded. "I wish other mages could be safe like we are."
"So do I," Anders whispered. He kissed Mal good night on the forehead, then hurried out of the room before tears—whether of agony or outrage—formed in his eyes.
Anders sent Mal to his grandmother's house again the next day, reluctantly, but once again, he did not want the little boy around the Keep to see or hear any more than he already had. Grudgingly he decided that he should try again to pressure his prisoner—he rather liked the idea now—to turn over Elthina. This regime of rape and abuse occurred under Elthina, he thought, getting himself riled up again. They destroyed Karl—I hope to the Maker they didn't rape or molest him too—under Elthina. It was beyond sickening. As much as Anders had loathed the Circle of Ferelden, and despite the presence of Templars like Ser Rolan who had the same view of Tranquility that Alrik did, Anders had never heard of mages being sexually abused there. That, of course, does not mean that it didn't happen, he thought darkly, but even so, it was widespread here. That was a large group of Templars that we caught, and their abuse occurred almost entirely on Elthina's watch. Surely that prince will see now that Caitlyn and I mean what we say and that this is no Game-playing.
He summoned Aveline to stand guard, even though Sebastian had been forced to surrender his bow and quiver—as well as his lockpicks, which pretty much confirmed that he had been the one to break Elthina out of jail. With the door to the prince's quarters closed, Anders advanced on Sebastian, taking in the room around him as he did. Scorn filled his mind as his gaze passed over the fine furnishings. Some prisoner! he thought.
Sebastian glowered, rising to his feet grudgingly. He inspected Anders' clothing, a charcoal-grey suede coat with a dark red top jacket and salt-and-pepper feathers. Although Anders insisted on wearing this style, to look like the mage he was, and still had his old coat, his wardrobe had improved markedly of late, and his increasing preference for dark shades made him look much more imposing than before.
But Sebastian seemed oblivious to the meaning of Anders' sartorial choices. He continued to glower. "I heard that you arrested Templars," he said abruptly.
"The Grand Cleric has cast them out of the Templar Order," he said. This morning, Petrice had signed the document to do that, officially turning them over to the city. There would likely still be a challenge, since they had committed their crimes as Templars, but this would help. "And they are rapists who sought to make every mage they could get their hands on Tranquil."
Sebastian sniffed. "Yet your 'Tranquil Solution' was hardly the holocaust you imagined."
Anders stood still, gaping in amazement and fury—fury that was increasing faster than he would have thought possible. The surge from the Fade came on so fast that he could not hope to stop it. For a moment, Justice—no, Vengeance—was in full control of his body, light blazing from his eyes and crackling in lightning bolt shapes down his skin. He strode forward, not caring that Sebastian was gaping in shock at the sight before him.
Crack! Anders' fist connected with Sebastian's nose violently, breaking it at once. Your face will never be quite so pretty again, he thought in the tenth of a second before blood began to stream. Sebastian drew back, shouting in pain, covering his nose. Vengeance retreated, satisfied with the blood and the cries.
For a second Anders wondered if this had been a mistake, but he pushed that aside. He turned around and stormed away toward the door. As he jerked it open, he turned back. "You're staying here until you turn over Elthina. I will wait for Caitlyn to affirm this, but if she approves, those are the terms for your allies and your regent. You for her." He slammed the door behind him.
"Hostage-taking is not how heads of state negotiate truces," Aveline said hotly, following closely on Anders' heels as he stormed toward the jail. "It's not even done to ambassadors, let alone the leader himself!"
"I told you what he said. That self-righteous rich brat minimized rape."
"Anders, this is not about what he said! He didn't threaten you! The Viscountess is trying to get allies in Ferelden, and Comte de Launcet is on his way to Orlais, but if you do things like this, nobody will take our side!"
"He harbors a traitor. I'm holding him for that, if anyone else objects."
"That's not why you are holding him and you know it!"
Anders breathed heavily. "Stop questioning me," he said in a dark, low voice. "Caitlyn made me her advisor for justice, and she placed me in charge while she is gone. If she has a problem with this when she comes back, she has the authority to undo it. You don't."
Aveline glowered. "I know I don't. But I am on the Small Council too, and as such, I'm advising you to think better of it."
"He deserved it. Just as these bastards," he said, pulling the door to the jail open, "are going to get what they deserve. Justice has been far too thin on the ground in Kirkwall, but that is about to change."
Anders gazed around the courtroom of the Keep. This was where he, Caitlyn, Sebastian, Meredith, and Dumar had heard the account of Ser Keran that Elthina and... someone... had been passing treasonous messages back and forth to let the Viscount be assassinated and their own enemies be slain in combat. She and Meredith would have seized direct rule over the city after the Qunari attack if we had not acted then, he thought. There would probably be no Viscount or Viscountess at all, just the Knight-Commander. Kirkwall would be ruled by a tyrant. Maker bless you, my love. I did not like Petrice, and still don't, but you did what was necessary, and now things are not quite so dire. And a crucial event took place in this very room... just as another will. It is about time that the tables are turned against evil, lawless Templars like these.
Three large banners hung from the high walls, two of which were decorated. One bore the insignia of Kirkwall and one had the Amell family heraldry. The third was blank. He had had it placed there just this morning. It was a dark red swath of thick silk with black rope suspending it from the hook on the wall, and the servants who affixed it had thought it was a banner to indicate that a blood court was in session—that someone was on trial for his life. That was true enough, Anders supposed, but he meant it to be something else too.
He eyed the banner and focused his staff at it. This was delicate work, and he would not be able to fix it if he messed up. Keeping calm, he cast a stream of fine, controlled flame at the banner, burning an image into the cloth. The symbol briefly flamed before the fire went out, leaving behind a black scorch mark. At first glance it appeared to be the scales of justice—but instead of a balance, the weights were suspended from each side of the hilt of a dagger.
Vengeance. The tables are turned, Anders thought again, stalking out of the courtroom.
Several days later.
The members of the Viscountess's Small Council, minus the Grand Cleric, watched as Alrik and the surviving ex-Templars stood trial. Their hands were bound and shackled behind their backs, and they stood before Anders wearing not their fine, polished Templar armor, but rather, sackcloth for prisoners. Their faces were drawn and their eyes were bloodshot from lyrium withdrawal. After years of using it, it did not take long for a non-mage to suffer badly from withdrawal. The Small Council observed from what would have been a jury box, had he not declared that he alone was the judge in this case. The public gallery was almost empty. It had been full when the trial began, but a... disturbance... had necessitated the removal of much of the viewing public, Anders had decided. Aveline was still glowering about that, but it had been necessary, he thought. He couldn't have people shouting in the middle of court.
"So," he drawled to the Small Council and the few spectators who remained, "it has been established that you, Alrik, personally performed the Rite of Tranquility on the mages Elfhilda and Lia"—his voice changed to a furious growl—"ages seventeen and eighteen—"
"It hasn't been 'established'!" interrupted Alrik, sneering. "You wouldn't let us—"
Standing menacingly beneath the banner of Vengeance, Anders thumped his staff hard on the floor. A powerful bolt of lightning arced from it, striking Alrik. The man crumpled on the stand, twitching as electricity crackled over his body. A faint smile formed on Anders' face at the sight. Templars never let mages speak in our own defense, no matter what we are accused of, he thought. Apostate or Circle mage, it doesn't matter. They accuse us, and we can say nothing. If we try, it makes it worse. They sentence us to death or Tranquility, or solitary confinement, at their own whim. How do you like it, you bastards? How do you like being silenced and punished for speaking?
As the dark thrill of revenge passed through him, Anders gazed out, noting that the spectators who remained looked pleased—or at least tolerant. He had tried to prevent it, but previously, some people had gotten in who were opponents of Caitlyn—and him—and supported Meredith. The first time he had used magic to silence one of the rapists when the man tried to speak, these people had protested in outrage. That was why he had had them tossed out.
"It has been established," Anders continued, "that you did this to these young mages after the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall made it illegal to do so, and moreover, that you then proceeded to violate them and hand them off to your fellow rapists to do the same—"
One of the others looked to speak up in objection, but Anders noticed and sent a blast of lightning at him—not as powerful as the one he had just cast on Alrik, but enough to shock the man to his knees—before he could open his mouth to speak in his defense.
"Finally, you were caught in the very act of attempting to do these same despicable acts to the mage Ella, who was merely exercising her right to visit her mother. There are numerous witnesses to this, who heard what you said." He brought out a note from his coat pocket and proceeded to read it, keeping his staff threateningly in hand. "'You know what happens to mage girls who don't toe the line around here, don't you?'" Anders read.
The remaining crowd booed. A rotten potato struck Alrik. From the jury box, Aveline moved instinctively to apprehend the thrower and restore order, but she settled down in the seat again. A scowl filled her face.
Anders smiled in approval at the direction the potato had come from. "After Ella begged you not to make her Tranquil—which, again, is now illegal—you said, 'That's right. Once you're Tranquil, you'll do anything I ask.'" He paused, gazing subtly at the crowd.
Jeers erupted. Several civilians surged forward, shouting. Those who carried sacks reached into them, and in the next moment, a flurry of rotten fruits and vegetables flew through the air at the accused, bound prisoners.
"The evidence speaks for itself," Anders said once the crowd had no more food to throw. He glared at the prisoners. "You are found guilty on all counts."
"Bollocks! We didn't get the chance to defend ourselves!" bawled one of them in a desperate last attempt.
Anders turned to them, a menacing smile on his face as he spoke, making sure everyone in the courtroom heard. "You have been stripped of your knighthood, but you were Templars, and even though you have been without lyrium for several days, there might still be some in your bodies that you could use to perform the Holy Smite or other such things. You are simply too dangerous to be allowed to speak!" He leered at them, his smile broad and dark. How do you like that, you vicious, evil tyrants? He did not notice; his face was turned aside, but in the jury box, Aveline and Varric drew their breath sharply, their hands finding their way to their open mouths.
Anders turned back. "In the name of Viscountess Hawke, I, her Regent, sentence all of you to death. You will die tomorrow morning."
"Anders," said Varric, trying to keep his voice calm, "we need to talk."
Anders heaved a sigh. "You disapprove too. They had it coming. They are guilty. You were there, Varric. You saw it."
"Of course they are guilty!" he exclaimed. "But Anders—this isn't helpful. Shouting them down and zapping them with magic wasn't helpful. Throwing the crowd out wasn't helpful. Is this really about justice for Karl and those girls, or is it about revenge for everything you have hated about the Circles?"
"What's the difference?" Anders exclaimed. "People talk about justice and vengeance as if they are two different things."
"And you don't think they are? You used to!"
"I've thought better of it," he said coolly. "And let's suppose I am taking revenge on these Templars for everything I hate, everything that was done to me. If I am doing that, isn't it better that I'm doing it to vile rapists like them, instead of... oh, someone like Thrask?"
Varric gaped at him for a moment. "Anders," he said, "I don't want to have this debate with you. All I'll say is this. Do you really think that Hawke will approve of that trial when she hears about it?"
"After she learns what they did? Yes," he said curtly, stalking away.
Donnic Hendyr was waiting for him outside the jail that evening. "Some weapons were seized from that lot," he said. His face was fixed and set, as if he were trying to avoid looking too put out at Anders. "Most of them were ordinary blades and bows, but there were two things I took off Alrik that seemed magical to me. I thought you might want to have a look at them." He held out a leather bag to Anders.
Anders accepted the bag from him, sensing that there was indeed something highly magical inside. Justice was prickling beneath the surface of his skin at the proximity of something else that was Fade-touched. Anders hurried down to the cells with the bag in hand. He would examine the objects there.
Once he was out of Donnic's line of sight, Anders found the nearest table—a torture rack, actually—and emptied the contents of the bag onto it. The objects, a sheathed, strangely lightweight knife and some sort of... pommel?... glowed bluish-white. Gingerly, Anders put on gloves and examined the pommel-like object closely.
The glow was coming from only one end, he noted. In the gloom of the cells, it was clear to him that it was shaped like a ring around the edges of the round end. He frowned. Why would...
The round end popped off in his hands. It was a cap, and the glow came from within. Anders gazed in shock at the bluish-white symbol of a sunburst.
This is what they use to brand the Tranquil, he realized. His gaze shifted to the knife. But that means that this is... He pulled the sheath off the blade and nearly gasped in amazement.
It was extremely lightweight, almost insubstantial. Anders was scared to touch the blade, which glowed with sinister shapes and seemed vaguely translucent and wavy when not looked at directly. Examining it by sight and allowing Justice to ease into slightly more control, he considered it. There is metal, he decided, but this is Fade-touched, and it seems half in the Fade itself. This blade... this is also something they use in the Rite of Tranquility. But how? What do they do with it? He closed his eyes, wondering if Justice somehow had this knowledge, if over the course of his bond with Anders prior to his own separation from the Fade, he had discovered the memories of Templars who had performed the Rite. A vague image filled Anders' thoughts at this.
He gazed down the cell block, considering his options, then replaced both objects and stalked darkly toward the imprisoned Templars, bag in hand.
Alrik was slumped in his cell, his hands shackled. When Anders approached, the former Templar got to his feet, glowering.
"You aren't supposed to do it until tomorrow," he spat.
Anders unlocked the door. "I have questions for you."
Alrik's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Wouldn't I? This is a wonderful change, in my view. How many times did your kind lock me up, or others like me, for imagined offenses? And you really are a monster." Anders slung his staff off his back and zapped the Templar with it. A bolt of lightning arced across his body, stark white in the dim cell. Alrik groaned and twitched, collapsing to the floor in pain.
Anders stood back, glowering in contempt, his staff in hand. "Elthina was conspiring with someone in the Templars during Viscount Dumar's reign. Was it Mettin or Meredith?"
Alrik spat on the floor. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Another jolt of lightning rocked him.
"Are you sure about that?" Anders said.
"I'm sure," seethed the man. "I know that's what you and your fellow apostate bed-warmer claimed, but—"
A blast of flame struck him. "Care to take any of that back?" Anders hissed.
Alrik glared at Anders in pure hatred. "Just kill me if you're bent on it."
"Oh, you will die," Anders said, "make no mistake about that. But a clean death is too kind for you." His face curdled. "When I think of what you did to so many mages... you despicable, loathsome monster—" Rage suddenly overtook him, and with it, Justice—as Vengeance, rather. Fade-light blazed from his eyes as Alrik backed up, startled and scared.
The Templar froze in place, immobilized, pressed as if by a crushing cage, as his captor cast a spell. He groaned in pain, twitching.
Anders regarded him, the light of Vengeance gleaming from his eyes. A dark smile formed on his face at the sight. He intensified the spell, feeling a thrill of satisfaction as several of Alrik's bones audibly cracked from pressure.
That is only the beginning of what he deserves, Vengeance thought. In this moment, he was by far the dominant voice. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, blood for blood. Do unto him as he did unto others. That is true justice.
Wait, Anders managed to object. He is a rapist. I will not—
No, the spirit considered. Not that. But there is something else we can do. And we can do it. We have the instruments.
In that dark moment, Anders could not find an argument against the logic of Vengeance. And I want this Templar to suffer it too, to know what it's like.
Vengeance-Anders advanced on Alrik, slinging his staff on his back again. He reached into the leather bag and withdrew both instruments of Tranquility. The cap popped off the lyrium brand and clattered to the floor, metal on stone, clinking discordantly like a bell of the Void itself. He unsheathed the knife, which gleamed in his right hand as the brand gleamed in his left and the blue glow of Vengeance shone from his eyes and crackled down his skin.
Alrik's eyes widened. "You wouldn't," he whispered as Anders advanced. He backed into a corner of the cell.
Anders drew near, hovering over the shackled Templar. He held the blade but did not use it. I do not want to make this quick, he thought. I want to make him suffer as so many mages suffered when this was done to them. Instead, he held out the lyrium brand.
Alrik closed his eyes to the sight of the glowing brand as Anders brought it close to his forehead—but he could not stifle the shout of pain as the mage pressed it to his skin. The glowing lyrium scalded his skin, the close proximity of the magical substance to his brain bringing on an immediate and overpowering headache. He screamed, and it echoed down the cell block.
"Hurts?" Anders said in a low voice, keeping the brand in place. "I wish I could do it over and over for every mage that you subjected to this."
Beads of sweat formed on Alrik's forehead as he tried to scoot away, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was backed into a corner. He pushed against the cold stone, but that only made it easier for Anders, who increased the pressure at once.
"He—" Alrik tried to choke out. He winced as a trickle of blood poured from his nose. "He screamed like a baby when I did it to him."
Anders needed no clarification as to who "he" was. Karl, he thought at once. In fury and miserable, wretched despair at the thought of someone he had cared about enduring this, he brought out the glowing Fade-touched blade. Jerking Alrik's head forward—though keeping the brand in place—he pressed the tip of the blade to the back of the man's head. He was sure for a moment that he could see through the blade—and then he pushed it forward.
There was no spurt of blood, no sound of slicing, and little physical resistance. The... blade... passed into Alrik's head, leaving no mark. Relying on some innate, indescribable knowledge that Vengeance had gleaned from the Fade, he drew it upward, between what would be the two hemispheres of his brain, as Anders knew from his Healer studies. A dark smile filled his face at that thought. He noted the exact moment that the horror and fury left Alrik's eyes, replaced with a calm placidity—but he still kept the other implement, the lyrium brand, in place.
"Stop," pleaded Alrik, his voice now changed. "It hurts, take it away—"
"Go to the Void," Anders hissed. He kept it pressed against Alrik's forehead as his verbal protests became incoherent screams of pain. He watched as more trickles of blood appeared from the corners of Alrik's mouth, then each of his eyes, then his ears—that blood curiously discolored and diluted.
Anders drew back, staring, breathing heavily. The former Templar lay dead on the floor, the brand of Tranquility burned all the way down to bone, his brains liquefied and pooling on the floor from his ears.
With that, Vengeance ceded control, satisfied. Fully in control of himself again, Anders gazed down at his handiwork.
Did I really just...
He gazed at the instruments in his hands. Feeling suddenly uncertain, he capped the brand, sheathed the knife, and shoved them both into the leather bag, unable to look at them. He took joy in telling me that Karl suffered, he told himself. He was a tyrant to mages and to the very last—before he was Tranquil, at least—he was a monster.
A tyrant and a monster.
I'm not...
Anders glanced back again. The scar of the lyrium brand would be apparent to anyone. He grimaced. That could not remain. If it's illegal for Templars, it's definitely illegal for me, he thought. Shuddering, he hauled Alrik's body out of the cell by the arms, dragging it along the floor. He would throw it into the common pyre for criminals before anyone saw the evidence.
Mal was already in bed. It was hard for Anders to believe that this same evening, he had tucked his little son into bed, reading about Black Fox to him. He really, really wished that Caitlyn were here—but she was in Denerim, so he would have only Pounce cuddled against him in bed tonight.
Was that right? he thought. The other being seemed conflicted too.
A crowd had gathered for the execution of the rest of the ex-Templars—and not an entirely friendly crowd. There were supporters, definitely, and Anders was sure he saw several apostates in the crowd that he recognized, but there were also faces that were hard and angry.
"Where is Alrik?" Aveline had demanded that morning.
"He died under questioning," Anders said.
Her nostrils flared at that. She knew what "died under questioning" meant—though Anders was quite sure that she did not know the full gory details. "I hope, and so should you, that this doesn't irremediably hurt Hawke's plans," she said sharply.
"These former Templars, stripped of their knighthood by the Grand Cleric, have been found guilty of rape," he said to the gathered crowd. "They have abused their trust and their power over innocent mages—mages who are sons and daughters, brothers and sisters—and we will ensure that any others who do so are brought to justice, but rest assured, people of Kirkwall, that these will no longer harm your children." He turned to the bound Templars, who stood in a line on the Gallows. He had considered executing them by hanging, but he decided that what they truly deserved was to die by magic. The chains that bound their wrists, ankles, and necks would conduct lightning very well.
It was traditional for the lord ordering an execution to say, "Maker turn His gaze upon you," offering the prisoners one last chance to seek absolution, but Anders would not do it. They go straight to the Void, he thought angrily as he stared out at them. Forming a powerful lightning spell, he cast the bolt at the metal ball that connected to the end of the chain that bound all of them.
They screamed and twitched in agony as the bolts, one after the other, arced across the metal. As they gradually stopped twitching in death, the crowd—or the part of it that opposed this—began to murmur and shout in outrage.
"Monster! You didn't even give them a fair trial!"
The last former Templar stilled as the arcs of lightning crackled out. Anders lifted his hands from the ball and gazed out. Angry, outraged faces confronted him.
"Bloodthirsty maleficar!"
"Magister! Just like a magister!"
The opposing part of the crowd took up this cry. "Magister! Magister!" they chanted derisively. Several of them raised pitchforks. In response, the part of the crowd that backed Caitlyn and Anders turned on the people in their midst who were shouting invective at Anders.
Anders turned to Aveline, suddenly horrified. Aveline's eyes narrowed for a moment, as if to say "I told you so," but in the next, she was calling for her guards to attempt to contain the crowd.
It was too late. Someone—it was never clear from which side—threw a rock, and with that, a riot erupted. Screams and shouts filled the air as people lunged at each other.
In the distance, Meredith Stannard smirked in satisfaction.
Later.
"We couldn't arrest all of them," Aveline reported, a scowl on her face. "My guards have brought in the ones who appeared to be leading others, or who did the worst."
"Was anyone killed?" Anders asked.
She shook her head. "We're fortunate in that, at least. Though one person came damn close. A pro-mage rioter beat that one bloody," she said harshly. "We apprehended that person."
Anders got up from his seat and glowered out the window for a moment. He turned back to face her. "What about the others you arrested?"
"Most of them were pro-Templar rioters. We arrested them for disturbing the peace, vandalism, inciting violence, and—where we saw them fighting—assault. And I strongly suggest that you let someone else handle the trials."
He scowled. "They don't get a trial."
Aveline and Varric, who was standing nearby, both gaped at him. "What?" she exclaimed.
"They rioted against the execution of rapists. If they have a problem with the Court of Justice—"
"Oh, is that what you call it?" she said. "It looked a great deal more like the Court of Vengeance to me!"
He scowled. "They were rioting in support of rapists—rapists of children. If they have such a problem with my Court of Justice, then they won't be tried there. They will remain in jail until Caitlyn or I decide to let them out! Let's show others what happens when they try to undermine the law of Kirkwall!"
"Anders!"
He breathed hard. "I am not proud of everything I have done in this," he said tightly, "but we cannot give in to rioters. It will only encourage them!"
"No one is asking you to give in to them! Of course they should be punished, but you want to lock them up indefinitely without trial! Or will you free the ones on your side?" she asked sarcastically.
He ignored that. "Dumar was weak, and look what became of him because of it. Weakness in leaders does not generate mercy—it attracts bullies like the Arishok, like Meredith and Elthina! We cannot show weakness. Caitlyn's rule is fragile enough."
Aveline glowered. Varric exchanged a dark, pointed look with her before finally saying, "You had best hope that she gets an alliance in Ferelden, because you're going to need it now. And frankly, I wouldn't want to be you when she returns."
Notes: Sebastian's comment is not bashing; it's almost verbatim from the game (differs only in "yet" rather than "so"). Here, Anders didn't attempt to kill an innocent mage as Vengeance, so he's not about to listen to a theocratic prince minimize rape.
I realize I may have gone too far even for the most bloodthirsty among you (which I mean in the nicest way. I'm bloodthirsty too, clearly). If you are put off by Vengeance!Anders Tranquilizing someone (even a rapist), please don't give up on the story yet.
My idea of Alrik's Tranquility knife is heavily influenced by the intercision blade in The Golden Compass.
