Notes: Thank you for reading! I am afraid that this chapter is rather less fun than the preceding one, but there have been other and darker subplots that needed to be addressed. That starts now.

Warnings: Dark and unsympathetic conduct by a protagonist. Domestic violence/violence against intimate partners. I'm sorry. It mirrors an event in the game, specifically Legacy if you have Anders along, but I'm still sorry.

Song: "Thoughtless," originally by Korn, but I like Evanescence's cover better.


Chapter 78: Pushing All the Mercy Down


Caitlyn and Anders knew that word about the breaking of the siege must be spreading to every throne room and war room in Thedas. The way that it had happened would be a "blast heard around the world" indeed—but Caitlyn could not yet focus on what the new weapon and its destructive potential might mean for the future. The world had changed, that she knew—but for now, she still had to focus on the present.

With the siege broken, one of the first decisions that she made was to review all the names of prisoners who had been arrested for sedition. Aveline approved of this action, as she and Caitlyn sat in the Viscountess's office to discuss each one.

"I think you'll earn a lot of goodwill from releasing the nonviolent ones," Aveline said as they neared the end of the list of names. "That and it's the merciful thing to do. They've served their sentences. The siege is ended and the threat is over. There's no reason to keep them locked up anymore."

Caitlyn gazed across the desk at her friend. "The effigy-burners and the violent members of Harlan's mob stay, though."

"Understandably so," Aveline agreed. She took a deep, uneasy breath as she realized that Caitlyn was reading the last names on the list.

Her friend raised her eyebrows at her, her mouth contorting into a scowl, as she perused those three names: Ruxton Harimann, Flora Harimann, Brett Harimann. The very sight of the names brought up irritation in Caitlyn.

"Why," Caitlyn began slowly, curling up the list, gaze narrowing, "why are you so determined to defend these people?"

Aveline had been afraid of this, but it still disappointed her that Caitlyn was reacting this way. It struck her as stubbornness and pride, a refusal to back down from a position. At least, she hoped it was only that.

She managed to return her friend's stare. "I would rather ask why you are so determined to keep them locked up when you are releasing others who did commit sedition, beyond any doubt. This latest round of releases, as well as the mage supremacists who were not involved with the assassination attempt."

Caitlyn slammed her palms on the desktop. "I refuse to believe that they are as innocent and ignorant as they claim to be. They lived in the same house as that woman! One of them shared her bed! She was keeping a girl locked up in a bedroom while that traitor Grace plotted with her and tried to indoctrinate the child. How could they not see what was going on under their own noses?"

"You are a mage," Aveline said. "You know perfectly well that the desire demon could have manipulated their minds—or the blood mage herself."

Caitlyn sucked in her breath, then released it. "I'm not letting them out, Aveline. You need to drop this cause."

"Hawke, why are you singling them out? As I said, you have released others who are absolutely guilty of sedition. What in the Maker's name are you so afraid of with the Harimanns?" Daringly, she voiced the suspicion that was animating her thoughts. "Is this just willful pride, a refusal to back down because you think it'll make you lose face?" Caitlyn's gaze hardened, but Aveline continued undeterred. "It won't! Right now, quite frankly, this makes you look like a tyrant who locks some people up and releases others based on personal whim."

Caitlyn's eyes flashed. "If that insult is supposed to persuade me—"

"Letting them go will make you look reasonable, fair-minded, and just!"

That last word echoed through Caitlyn's thoughts, though in Anders' voice rather than Aveline's. For some reason, that irked her even more. It brought back their nights of arguing, confrontation, and chilliness in bed. Of Anders waiting for me in the bedroom to lecture me about justice, she thought. Those memories brought her irritation to a head.

She glared at Aveline. "I've had enough of this. I do not believe in the Harimanns' innocence. I don't believe that they could have had no idea what was going on in their own home for months on end, demon or no demon. They weren't asleep! They were conscious and alert, just acting odd. And if they were under the demon's influence that heavily, what does that imply? It implies that they could still be threats!"

"The demon is dead, Hawke."

"Are the seeds of thought that it could have planted in their minds dead?" she asked rhetorically. "You want to believe that the demon influenced them into not seeing what Lady Harimann was doing. Accept the consequences of that belief, Aveline: The demon also could have put other ideas into their heads. And we do not know what they might be," she emphasized. "Either they are lying to us about what they were aware of, or you're correct and the demon was influencing them not to see these things—but its influence could have been greater than you realize if so. Those are the choices, Aveline. No others. And if we don't know what that demon was telling them, the safe choice is to keep them locked up."

Aveline stared evenly back at Caitlyn. "I never thought I would say this, but you sound exactly like a Templar right now. And not a moderate one."

The memories of Anders making that same accusation flashed through Caitlyn's mind, inciting her anger again. "You are dismissed," she said icily.


First Anders accuses me of that, now Aveline. Caitlyn stormed about her private study, pacing in front of the fire, wallowing in her own indignation. Can't they see that there is a difference? I ordered a forced search of the Free Mages because there was an attempt to assassinate me, plotted and aided by mage supremacists. I have the Harimanns locked up because I know for a fact that they were living with a demon and an assassin and they implausibly claim ignorance. This is completely different from Circles.

She pushed aside the nagging little worm of a thought that, in some cases, Circles had had problems with demons and blood magic conspiracies too. There had been one such at Kinloch Hold in Ferelden, and even here in Kirkwall, the late First Enchanter Orsino had been corresponding with a murdering blood mage—the very one who had tried to kill Caitlyn's mother. It isn't the same, she told herself again and again. I'm not becoming what I went to war to bring down. I'm not like a Templar. They seek to round up every mage they can get their hands on, shove people like me into Circles, deny us the chance to communicate with our friends and family outside the Circle, deny us love and children, force us to face demons alone under threat of death, threaten to make us into emotionless shells, blasphemously claim that our Maker Himself cursed us when we were still in our mothers' wombs... I don't do those things. I would never do those things.

So I have a couple other policies in common with the Templars. So what? I would never do the worst things they do. I am simply doing what I have to do as a wartime leader who is under threat. I'm not like them.

She thought this over and over until she managed to convince herself.


Anders had tried, over the past week since the breaking of the siege, to keep his burgeoning resentment to himself—but it was getting harder by the day. He had never considered himself a glory hound, especially after Justice. He cared about his family and the cause, not about being publicly worshiped as a hero or symbol. It certainly wouldn't—shouldn't, he thought guiltily—have crossed his mind to feel envious and resentful of Caitlyn, the love of his life.

And yet, he was feeling precisely that after being named Champion and seeing life just... go on. It hadn't been like this for Caitlyn. She had been the darling of the city for a time.

The city is still at war, Anders thought, trying to reason himself out of this. We're in a far more hopeful place, but we are still at war. When the Qunari were defeated, it was the end of an era—more than one era, in fact. It was also the end of Viscount Dumar's reign. Caitlyn became Viscountess very soon after being named Champion. It makes sense that she was the city's favorite.

Still, he could not quite banish the thought. She fought the Arishok, and it was groundbreaking that she used magic openly to do so... but what I have done is far more groundbreaking, he thought sourly. My blasting powder will change warfare. It must. "The blast heard around the world," as we're calling it. Even if the Qunari have something like it already, I didn't get the recipe from them; I devised it independently after a laboratory accident. It's my innovation. And there's just... very little said about that. I'm Champion now. Hooray for me. "Here's a medal, now let's get back to our lives." Just like how Circle mages have always been treated: "Thank you for defeating the Qunari, the darkspawn, for pushing the Orlesians out, and so forth, now get back in your Circle so that normal people don't have to think about you."

The level of bitter resentment in that thought shocked Anders as it passed through his mind. That's unfair. Caitlyn didn't do that. And the city was besieged, he told himself again. People were hungry. They were losing hope. Hope is renewed again. They're more focused on that, the effect of the siege's end on their own lives, than on theoretical concerns of warfare.

It's still unfair, though. It's unjust.

Anders sighed. He knew that there was another factor at work, one that was hard for him to face, because it made him so unhappy, but it was still true. I likely wouldn't be feeling this way if Caitlyn and I were not still going through a rough patch.

That was the dark, bitter truth. They had been going through a rough patch in their marriage for some time, and it was adding to Anders' resentment right now. It's that darkspawn that haunts my dreams, he thought. Justice is getting stronger and bolder in order to fight it. That and...

This truth was even harder to face, but he could not avoid it. Justice would not let him. She has changed, he thought sadly. The war has changed her. She would say that she has always had a side that is hard and harsh, fierce and confrontational, and it's true, but... there is still something different. She usually, in the past, tried to keep to the light, to stay on the side of justice. Even if it was sometimes hard justice. Now, she's perfectly willing to be unjust and—yes, face it, Anders—tyrannical in the name of political expediency.

The war has changed her. The war, and the enemies in Kirkwall—Harlan and Lady Harimann. The assassination attempts on herself and Divine Justinia. These things have made her angry, distrustful, paranoid, and willing to do things that... that she was never willing to do before.

All of these factors have hurt our marriage, and they're making me envious and resentful of her now that we are both Champions of Kirkwall.

Anders sighed again, rubbing his head. He had no idea what to do. I've been trying to make it right, he thought, but nothing is working. He realized that Justice deserved some blame for that. The spirit's influence made him less diplomatic with Caitlyn, and it was making her double down defensively. He realized it, but Justice was stronger these days, so he was harder to control.

When he received word, exactly one week after the lifting of the siege, that Caitlyn had called a Small Council meeting to discuss "the prisoners," he instantly had a very bad feeling about what she might do.

A siege lifted against steep odds, the tide of war turned definitively in favor of mages, a world-changing weapon at our disposal, people feeling good again. Don't ruin this, Caitlyn. Please.


The Small Council meeting.

"I've made a decision," Caitlyn said to the Council. "Now that the siege is broken and the northern fleet is decimated—now that the schism has ample reason to fear us, after how it was done—"

Anders scowled. She isn't even looking at me, he thought resentfully. I discovered it, I developed it, and she isn't even giving me a look of thanks. I was useful to her, and she's grateful when I am useful. That's it.

Caitlyn was continuing. "—I think it's time for certain people to suffer the consequences of inciting civil unrest in a time of crisis for Kirkwall."

"Hawke," Varric began uneasily. "Are you sure now is the right time?"

"The right time was arguably years ago. Harlan and Lusine are crime bosses," she said. "He, at least, has been committing capital crimes for years, but nobody could prove it. That's over. They are guilty of sedition and treason. They will be executed for raising a violent mob to try to overthrow me during a siege."

Ser Marlein Selbrech and Comte de Launcet nodded in approval, as nobles who did not care for unrest among the common folk. Petrice also visibly approved, surprising Caitlyn not at all—after all, she had advised arresting Harlan two years ago. But no one else seemed happy with this decree, and all of the dissenters were her friends.

Aveline spoke first, unease in her voice. "I agree that the protest was seditious," she said carefully, as if trying to decide herself what she thought. "And you have ample cause to charge the effigy-burners with treason for making an implicit threat against you and Anders."

Varric nodded. "But since the siege ended with a resounding success, perhaps the best option is to let Harlan wait a while. Don't rile them up again. Don't give them something new to get angry about. Coast on the good feeling."

Caitlyn frowned at them. "'Coasting' for years is what empowered them to think they could do it. They tried to overthrow me in wartime, Varric. That's even worse than trying to do it in peacetime. They weren't just going to take me out. They were going to take an action that would've led to a surrender, a betrayal of all the Free Mages."

"And a victory for a heretical schism," Petrice added.

"That's true, but it didn't happen. And when it comes to assessing risk, I really think the risk is greater by executing those two at this moment. It'll rile up all their supporters, Hawke."

"After Satinalia 9:36, everyone in Kirkwall should know what I am prepared to do to riled-up mobs. If they have forgotten, they'll be reminded. And I have a new weapon with which to do it." Her words were surprisingly dark even to her own ears, but this second-guessing annoyed her. This advice led to that effigy-burning mob in the first place. Varric and Aveline mean well, but he is too invested in deal-making and compromise, and she is too invested in rules and norms.

Anders then spoke up. "I worked for a month on that explosive," he said slowly, dissatisfaction seeping from his words. "It was an overwhelming victory, and the city is in a celebratory mood. I'd prefer you didn't squander it, and I'd really prefer not to see my invention used against Kirkwallers!"

The tension, the borderline snarl in his words, surprised the entire Council. Ser Marlein raised her eyebrows. Varric unconsciously eased backward.

But none of them were as shocked as Caitlyn. She gaped at him in disbelief that he would speak this way. "If I wanted your opinion, Anders, I would've asked for it," she snapped back.

The other members of the Council inhaled sharply.

He glowered back at her, unbent. "If I'd kept my opinion to myself during the siege, the city would have fallen," he retorted. "I'll give my opinion when I please. I always have. You used to like that." His expression turned into a sharp glare. "Not one of you gave me credit. 'The siege ended with a resounding success.' 'The fleet is decimated.' And why did that happen? Because I gave my opinion. I'm giving it again."

"Anders," Aveline said quietly, trying to calm him down. Caitlyn looked shocked and angry enough to explode, and Aveline feared what might ensue.

He ignored Aveline. Perhaps it was the darkspawn's influence in his mind and the stress of having to allow Justice more power than he really wanted the spirit to have. It was certainly exacerbated by the fact that his status as Champion and savior of the city was being passed over and disregarded, in stark contrast with how it had been for Caitlyn when she defeated the Arishok. And, he recalled again, he had been having difficulty in his marriage for a while. But that in itself annoyed him. The difficulty is largely because of what she has become, he thought. She doesn't respect anything I think anymore if it conflicts with her desire for power.

But all this passed through his mind in less than a second. He slammed his own palms on the table as he glared at Caitlyn. "I also wanted to remind my wife of a few things. You were a smuggler, Caitlyn. You came to power by popular appeal. You and this priest riled angry crowds against Marlowe Dumar while a hostile foreign power threatened the city."

Audible gasps escaped from most of the Council as they realized that he was publicly calling his wife, the Viscountess of Kirkwall, a hypocrite.

Caitlyn could hardly believe her ears. How dare he speak this way to me in front of everyone? she raged internally. Under the table, she felt her palms growing heated. Not here, she thought, trying to suppress the small flames that sometimes erupted as she lost control of her anger.

She managed to control her magic. "That's enough," she sneered. "Yes, I was a small-time smuggler for one year, because I was indentured to a smuggler who is now a legitimate shipper—but he is the boss of the Coterie! It's not the same at all." She forced a look of lofty derision on her face. "You're obviously just irritated that you think you haven't received due credit for your explosive. And I'll thank you not to bring that to my Council in the future."

Anders looked angry enough to cast a spell. Caitlyn was half worried that Justice would burst out in front of everyone, including people who did not already know about him, such as Petrice. The other half of her didn't care. If he's going to behave like this in front of my Council, embarrassing me by fighting with me, it'd serve him right, she thought defiantly.

But before either spouse could lash out against the other any further, Varric interceded. "Let's move on," he said hurriedly. "If you're determined on this, I really would advise you to be judicious in how you do it. I'm not saying that Harlan doesn't deserve the hangman's noose. He does. I think we can all agree on that." He gazed across the council table, and, sure enough, saw no dissent. "But Anders has a point that we don't need to throw away the good feeling."

Caitlyn scowled. Varric meant well, and she knew that his general inclination as a merchant was to haggle to a satisfying compromise. But she simply did not agree. It was a matter of time before security would lapse—Maker's breath, the Keep itself was compromised, and I was nearly assassinated! she thought—and the two crime bosses would escape. That would empower and almost deify them in their followers' eyes. The only way to ensure it never happens is to give them the justice they've evaded for far too long, she thought decisively.


She was not surprised when Anders remained behind in the council chamber after she dismissed the meeting. Angry, but not surprised.

"Well?" she snapped. "Clearly you think I have to listen to more of it. So spit it out."

Anger flared in him again. "I don't think you 'have to' listen to anything," he denied.

"Then what do you want?"

"If you really don't think I have anything of value to say, walk away," he challenged her. "If you think everything that comes out of my mouth now is rubbish—"

Caitlyn's temper flared. "What has gotten into you? No, say it. Spit it out, whatever it is. I'll judge the value of it," she snarled, "after I hear it."

Anders breathed heavily, trying to get control of his own temper. "I would drown myself in blood for you and our children," he said fiercely. "I would rip the flesh from anyone who hurt any of you. But..." A shadow fell over him.

"But you don't think I should," she said. "Why not, Anders? Because I don't have a Spirit of Justice?"

"Because you're not... you're not doing it for the right reasons." He grimaced, aware that that was going to go over terribly.

He was correct. "The right reasons?" Caitlyn exploded. "Harlan wants to replace me! You don't think wanting to prevent that is a good enough reason?"

He had regained his power of persuasion quickly, however, and fixed upon her words. "No, I don't! I think that's exactly the wrong reason to do it!"

"Oh, really? You aren't a fool, Anders, so don't play one! You know what would happen if he succeeded! You implied at the meeting that I was a hypocrite, but if I am, that's why I see this so clearly! He tried to discredit me in the eyes of the common people and raised the city against me. I discredited Dumar in the eyes of Lowtown. It didn't end well for him, did it?"

"The Arishok murdered Dumar. You just wanted him to abdicate."

"Because he wasn't a traitor! Harlan and Lusine raised a mob to stand in front of the Keep while Kirkwall was besieged and in serious danger of falling. Several of them burned effigies of us. That's a threat, Anders."

"Yes it is, and I don't care what you do to the ones with the effigies."

"But for some reason, you care what I do to the gangsters who brought them to the Keep to do it."

"No, I don't! I couldn't care less about them!" Anders exclaimed. "I care about you!"

"Then support me as I remove a threat to both of us and our children!"

A gasp of exasperation burst from Anders. "Doing it now, in this way, is not going to remove that threat! Their supporters won't think it's actually about justice for their crimes. They'll think it's about using your power to execute political rivals! How exactly do you think they'll react to that?"

"They'd be right. It is about that, and getting rid of a rival is the entire point!" she snarled even as he gaped in disbelief that she would avow it so brazenly. "Even imprisoned, Harlan is a mortal threat to us! If we are overthrown, mages lose! We lose. Our children lose!"

Anders tried to shake off his shock at her words. "But even when the city was besieged, hungry, and people were at their most afraid, Harlan couldn't pull that off. His worst supporters burned straw dummies and chanted his name. It was bad, but it could have been a lot worse. On Satinalia Eve 9:36, it was a lot worse." He paused, staring intensely at her, pleading in his amber eyes. "He couldn't overthrow you in Kirkwall's direst hour, so he certainly couldn't stage a coup from prison now that the battle is won and we have an amazing weapon at our disposal. Draw the people away from him, and he's nothing but a crook in a cell. Take away his supporters' complaint, and you defeat him."

"Their complaint was the existence of the war, Anders. You know what they were saying. They don't want to fight 'mages' wars.' They called us magisters, for the Maker's sake! So how do I take away their complaint?" She did not wait for him to answer. "I can't crush the Templars and schism yet. We need to make more explosives. But I can crush this uprising."

He glowered. "And I'm telling you that there's a good chance you won't do that, but will just make it flare up into an inferno again!"

"It is a matter of time before Harlan escapes his cell!" she exclaimed. "Aveline has people watching him now, but how long do you think our luck will last? He'll eventually find a weak link and get out. If I don't remove this threat permanently while I have the chance, a lot more people than a pair of gangsters could lose their heads—gangsters who are also seditionists."

Anders' gaze hardened. "You have been throwing that word around an awful lot in this war," he said. "And in some cases, I agree it's deserved."

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "But at the same time, you don't like it, because of so-called principles. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are! I don't like that you say it as much as you do! You didn't live in a Circle, Cait. I did. I saw mages beaten, denied privileges, sometimes even marked for Tranquility because of what the Templars might've considered sedition if they were secular." He turned to her with a devastating glare. "And yes, I do have to ask: Were you a seditionist when you worked with Petrice to undermine Dumar? When she riled up crowds against him while a hostile foreign armed force occupied the Docks, and you supported her in that?"

"He deserved to be undermined. He was an appeaser. I've waged war against this hostile armed force—and defeated a siege!"

"Oh, and I had nothing to do with that, of course," he said sarcastically.

Caitlyn's rage suddenly manifested in words so dark they surprised even her. "You had everything to do with it—and how? Your ideals didn't win the battle; your explosives did. This is a battle too, a political one, and it was as well in 9:34. Maybe I was a seditionist. If I was, the fact that Dumar didn't see the threat and stop me is proof that he was unfit to rule."

Anders gaped at her in disbelief. "So it's all about power? Might makes right? Is that what you really think?"

"Power is how things get done. Having power takes away the luxury of pure idealism!" She glared at him. "And the fact that you're now ranting about how bad it is that I prosecute sedition proves something to me. Your issue isn't pragmatic like you've claimed it is. You have a problem with my exercise of power. Well, some people have to hold power, and those of us who do have to make hard decisions!"

He reached for her shoulders desperately, gazing at her with wide, pleading eyes. "This is a bad decision, though! And there are two separate issues. One is pragmatic, whether you believe that or not. What do you think will happen if you execute Harlan and Lusine in front of a crowd? You think it'll crush their supporters? You'll just make martyrs for them! They will revolt again if you do this!" He stared passionately at her. "I swear, Cait, I don't give a damn about Harlan's neck. The man has deserved execution ten times over for what he has done in the Coterie. I agree with you about that! But doing it now, like this, for this reason—executing a political rival for a political crime and making sure the whole city knows it—is a terrible idea!"

"I said in the Council meeting that everyone should know what I am willing to do to violent mobs."

"So that is what you choose? Creating a situation that could mean mass bloodshed like that—again? You don't have to take that path! That is my second issue, Cait. That's why I brought up sedition and how it bothered me that you are so fixated on that concept. It has nothing to do with Harlan's wretched life. I just don't want you to become a tyrant! We're fighting to liberate mages from tyranny!" He pleaded with her with his eyes. "Caitlyn. Darling. I don't want to see you do this, become this, when it isn't the only way. Don't take this path. Don't rule by fear. Please."

She felt the truth of his words in her very soul, but that only served to increase her defenses. "What alternative do I have?" she exclaimed. "Keep them locked up? They'll eventually bribe someone to release them. Assassinate them privately? It won't matter; everyone will know who did it!"

He looked pained and seemed to be struggling. Momentary flashes of blue light passed over his hands—before he suppressed them firmly. He breathed deeply, exhaled, and gazed at her. "This is not Justice," he said. "It's my opinion. Please realize that, and realize what it means. This is me. Don't blame it on him. It's me." He took her hands in his own and stared into her eyes. "I think you should leave them imprisoned, continue the regular Coterie arrests, and gradually release information about the crimes they committed in the Coterie—so that when you do put them to death, people will support you."

Caitlyn scoffed. "They are guilty of treason. You know it, I know it, and Justice knows it. That's all the justification I need!"

He sucked in his breath hard. "No, that's all the justification that Justice would need. But as you like to point out, we live in the real world, not the world of ideas, and you do need to justify it to your people too. The war has to be close to an end now," he added. "The Templars' fleet lies at the bottom of the Waking Sea now. We're winning, Cait. I think the wise thing to do is to leave Harlan and Lusine imprisoned, turn the people against them by showing what they are, then deal with them."

"And what if they escape first, Anders?" she finally exploded. "What if they compromise a guard and get free? What then? You never answered that."

He faltered, but only for a moment. "We'll have Free Mages in charge of watching them at all times. The mages have no reason to support him. They value greater things than coin."

She sneered. "There is another solution, which is guaranteed to end the threat they pose. And that is what I am doing. I've made up my mind."

Anders watched in dismay and anger as she stalked away.


Caitlyn's ire at Anders towered again when she went looking for the children and learned that he had secluded himself with them. So now he's taking my children away, she thought angrily. Being named Champion went to his head if he dares to use them to pressure and bully me.

She knew that she would not find solid, unquestioning support in Aveline or Varric either, nor, for that matter, Isabela or Charade. Merrill likely would not have a strong opinion one way or the other, and while that was nice to contemplate in a way, what Caitlyn really wanted was someone she trusted to tell her that she was right. While Fenris might agree with her course—he took an extremely negative view of organized crime due to its frequent connections to slaver gangs—she knew that inevitably the angle of a mage using her power would arise with him.

The answer to her personal conundrum came when she saw that the Grand Cleric was still in the Keep foyer instead of returning to the Chantry. Petrice gestured that she wanted a private word. Surely she of all people will back me, Caitlyn thought as she led the priest into a small office. She wanted me to arrest Harlan and Lusine long ago.

She was correct. "I wanted you to know that I stand by your decision," the priest informed Caitlyn, "and additionally, I have advice for you about how to carry it out."

Relief washed over Caitlyn. "What advice?" she asked.

"Well, first of all... while I disagree with your other Council members about holding those two in prison for potentially months, they do have a point that a public execution could stir up angry sentiment again," she said reluctantly.

All of a sudden, Caitlyn felt very, very tired. I thought you would support me, she thought wearily. She gazed at Petrice. "And I said what I was prepared to do if a riot arises again," she said in curt tones.

"Which would be your right as Viscountess to subdue a revolt," Petrice agreed. "But... the others do have a point that it might be unwise."

"Are you implying that I should have Harlan and Lusine assassinated privately, like by slipping poison into their meals or something?" Caitlyn asked. The idea seemed distasteful to her. "I'd really rather not. Everyone would know who did it anyway, and it would make it look like I had only done it that way because I wouldn't have been able to convict them openly."

Petrice shook her head. "There is a middle ground between a public hanging in front of a crowd and poison in the dark. A public record of conviction, but a private execution."

Caitlyn considered that, nodding for the priest to continue. "Go on."

"Ordinarily, this would not be allowed under Kirkwall law, as I'm sure you know. Prisoners have the right to a public trial and execution—generally. But at the beginning of the war, the Small Council granted you emergency powers on the basis that things are different when national security is at stake. And in this instance, it is at stake. Your Council members have made the argument for you: If you execute Harlan and Lusine publicly, before a crowd, it risks a riot. They themselves have justified invoking your powers to override the right to a public trial and execution."

Caitlyn burst into a grin as she saw Petrice's argument. "I like that," she agreed. "And national security is also a factor in why Harlan and Lusine should be put to death quickly, rather than holding them in prison and risking an escape." She frowned as something else occurred to her. "That said, a quiet, private death might be kinder than they deserve. They raised a mob that burned Anders and me in effigy. They plotted to overthrow me. It's high treason."

"Yes, and had they succeeded at their goal, they would have empowered the victory of heretics. Unfortunately, there is no evidence that they are heretics."

"No," Caitlyn said, "but I can also choose a... special punishment for them under those same war powers." She smiled darkly. "I like the justice of torching those two, and it could be done... mostly privately. There is an outdoor courtyard in the middle of the Keep. They suffer exactly as they should, but all I would have to tell the public is that they were convicted and put to death. No one would need to know how."


Caitlyn did not tell anyone else about her plans. She wanted it done as quickly as possible, to end the threat and put the whole ugly business behind her. Lady Harimann is dead, the siege is broken, we have real hope of ending the war, and soon, Harlan and Lusine will be dead too, she thought. This is the right answer, and it's the right time too. Enough is enough. The Coterie has undermined me for too long.

Anders and Aveline would generally be present for the trial of a high-profile prisoner, as the Viscountess's justice advisor and Captain of the Guard. But they did not have to be. Magistrates conducted most trials in Kirkwall, because the head of state would simply have no time for anything else if every case was brought before her for personal judgment. But the head of state could always invoke the traditional Court precedent of direct pardon—or condemnation.

For these cases, Caitlyn did exactly that.

She did not have Petrice present in the courtroom, as she supposed it would look bad for the Grand Cleric to oversee the trials even as an observer. But she did have Varnell and Orwald present to restrain the pair—and all along, the dark thought nagged at her that Harlan might be a mage. If he is, a Templar and I can deal with it, she thought.

She did not draw out the proceedings. Since she was not convicting them of crimes related to their Coterie doings, it was simply a matter of showing the evidence of their raising the mob.

She spoke in cold, formal tones. "This court has established that you, Harlan, and you, Lusine, have committed acts of sedition and high treason against your rightful Viscountess. On the thirtieth of Haring in the thirty-ninth year of the Dragon Age, you two raised an armed mob of over twelve hundred people and marched it to the very steps of the Keep." She gazed at them. "This mob proved quickly that it was no mere peaceful protest or petition. Several members raised effigies of me and my husband, and proceeded to set them aflame. The Chantry has, in times past, burned effigies of excommunicated heretics when the persons themselves are unable to be brought forth for execution. Burning one's rightful ruler in effigy is therefore a death threat."

Varnell spoke up at this. "Her Grace the Viscountess is correct."

Caitlyn continued menacingly. "Furthermore, these threats were made in a grave time for Kirkwall, when enemy soldiers and enemy ships surrounded the city on all sides. Not just common enemies, either, but heretics who sought to force a blasphemous perversion of Andrastianism on this city. You, Harlan, and you, Lusine, raised a violent, threatening mob against your Viscountess as your very city lay besieged. You also attempted to flee to escape justice, and were apprehended doing so. This action is an acknowledgment of guilt."

They scowled back at her, their hands bound, Varnell and Orwald standing guard.

"As Viscountess of Kirkwall, executor of law and justice in this city, I declare you both guilty of high treason, and I hereby sentence you to death. At nightfall tonight, you will be taken to the inner courtyard of the Keep and affixed to stakes, where you will burn by magefire." She rose to her feet, noting smugly that the defiant glowers on their faces changed to real fear at this brutal sentence.


Caitlyn wore her diadem, drakeskin armor, and red cape that night. It was a perfect night for the grim task, cold and dry, but with no wind to blow sparks dangerously about. Stars glittered overhead, indifferent and distant, as Varnell hauled the two prisoners out and tied them to the stakes that had been erected in the courtyard. Lights from within the Keep glittered on four sides.

"Hold! What is going on here? Oh—Your Grace?"

Caitlyn whirled around at the sound of her friend's voice. Sure enough, Aveline was emerging from one of the doors, fully armed, drawing her sword until she realized that Caitlyn was present for this "event."

Beside her stood Anders. A look of indignation and disappointment filled his handsome face.

Caitlyn wished that they had not come, but she supposed that it was inevitable that Aveline and Anders would discover her plans. Aveline would have noticed that they weren't in their cells, she thought. Her thoughts hardened. Though they were also taken out for their trial earlier today, and she apparently didn't hear about that. It happened on my orders, and Varnell did it, but if they had managed to bribe the guard on duty, they would have escaped then, and she wouldn't have learned of it until it was far too late. I am absolutely right to do this, she concluded.

"Cait," Anders said, approaching, his amber eyes filled with dismay. "What are you doing? Is this... what it looks like?"

"I don't know, Anders," she replied. "What does it look like to you?"

His gaze hardened into a glare, which he sent in the direction of Petrice and Varnell. "They're not heretics, as far as we know."

"And they are not being executed for heresy."

"They're being attached to stakes!" he exclaimed. "And those two are here! Cait, what is going on? Why are you executing them like this in the dead of night, with nobody else present? You didn't tell Aveline or anyone! You didn't even tell me!"

"I have personally condemned them to die this way," she said. "This is the kind of death they deserve for raising a mob that burned effigies of us and would've turned over the city to the enemy! This is justice!"

Real anger flared in his eyes at that. "Burning them at the stake secretly?"

"As opposed to publicly? Yes. I thought about what you said," she told him with ironic tones. "You have a point that it could incite a revolt to do it publicly. So I'm doing it this way instead."

"This is against Kirkwall law," Aveline chimed in.

"No, it isn't. I invoked my wartime powers. As everyone in my Council who voiced an opinion agreed, it could incite a riot to do it publicly. That's a national security issue in wartime, so I suspended the right to a public trial and execution for these two." She smiled in checkmate. "They had a trial. I also invoked my traditional right to do that personally as head of state. The records are in the courtroom ledger if you care to look."

Aveline's nostrils flared in anger as she realized what her friend had done, but she could not argue against the legality of it anymore. "Fine," she bit off. "As you say, Hawke."

Anders was glaring at his wife silently, aware that there was no point in trying to change her mind now, but visibly furious. Caitlyn forced herself to ignore him. Enough, she thought. Nothing is accomplished against enemies except by acts of force and threat. Those two, of all people, ought to bloody well realize it. She is a soldier and he just broke a siege by a violent explosion. They know this. They know this is how we must deal with enemies. Seething to herself, she made her way toward the oil-soaked stakes to set them aflame.

Aveline tapped her shoulder as she passed by. "Don't forget to offer them last words," she said in a clipped voice.

Caitlyn momentarily recalled her misgivings about that the first time that Petrice had ordered the auto-da-fé. From what she'd heard of the event, when Anders had been her Regent shortly after she became Viscountess, he had not allowed the condemned rapist Templars to speak last words either. He was right, she decided.

She gazed levelly at Aveline. "That's a bad idea."

"It is a show of respect for the condemned as a person," Aveline said. "Isn't that the point of the war? We're all people?" She glowered. "I don't like this, Hawke. I don't approve of this."

Caitlyn sucked in her breath. "Do you think I need your approval to do it? I do not. I am the one who wears the diadem of Kirkwall. You and several others on my Council need to remember that."

Aveline's gaze hardened. "I know that. But if you don't let them speak and have their words recorded, as even the Grand Cleric has done at her burnings, this is little better than a back-alley murder."

Caitlyn heaved a sigh. "Fine." Speaking more loudly, she turned to the prisoners. "Have you any last words before you face the Maker?" she said in clipped tones, resentment evident.

She knew as soon as Lusine opened her mouth that it had been a mistake, and cursed Aveline mentally as the former madam uttered her words in a voice filled with spite.

"I curse you, you apostate Dog Lord," Lusine sneered. She spat at the foot of her stake. "I curse you to the Void! I may have run a whorehouse, but better to deal in bodily pleasure than bodily torture! I may have helped raise a mob, but now I wish we had done far more than that!"

Harlan then spoke. He turned to Caitlyn, meeting his gaze with hers one last time, and at last, the mask was off. No more was he pretending to be an accommodating political leader. "When there was still a chance that I might be spared, I denied raising the mob with the intent to overthrow you. But you know something, Hawke? You're Maker-damned right that I did it for that reason—and by killing us this way, you've proved my case! You are the Magister of Kirkwall!"

I knew that was a stupid idea, Caitlyn thought, giving Aveline an accusing look. Her friend stared back impassively, making Caitlyn even angrier. Do you agree with them, then? she thought. Do you agree with what they said about me? Two criminal gangsters or your best friend, and you choose them? Is that what it has come to? Their subversion extends that far?

The idea that Harlan and Lusine had managed to get to even Aveline, the avatar of law in Kirkwall, terrified and infuriated Caitlyn. This ends now, she thought in fury and betrayal. She stalked to the stakes and glared at the two, eyeing them one last time. Then she cast fire at the oil-soaked tinder.

The pair went up in flames, their bodies instantly blistering, their faces contorting in agony as fire licked at their skin.

Caitlyn returned to the clearing where the others stood, watching with an impassive look on her face and growing turmoil in her heart. An odd lurking fear for what she was doing, what it meant about her, and what might come of it, had filled her soul. It's done, she thought, trying to suppress that doubt.

The flames climbed higher. Harlan and Lusine began shrieking in pain, their pride unable to overcome their agony. Flames engulfed their bodies, skin blistering and curling away.

At some point, the screams subsided. Caitlyn watched, determinedly hard-faced, as the smoke turned acrid and the sparks flew high into the night sky.

When she turned around, Anders and Aveline had left. The only people remaining in the courtyard were Varnell and Petrice.


Mal and Jo had gone to sleep already, which relieved Caitlyn. She did not want to have to explain this to them—and she was not willing to face what it implied that she didn't want to tell her children about this deed. She stalked silently through the halls of the inner Keep, taking a brief bath, postponing the confrontation with Anders as long as she could. She was quite sure that when she entered their bedroom, Anders and Justice both would be waiting for her.

She stepped out of the tub, pulling a dressing gown around herself, and scanned the adjoining bedroom. It was empty.

He wouldn't. But she knew, suddenly, that he would, and he had.

She stepped out of the bedroom into the corridor and gazed down the hallway. Mal's and Jo's rooms were locked and warded with the familiar magical wards glimmering on their doors.

So, however, was a third door—the door of a spare bedroom that was usually unoccupied. Caitlyn stepped down the hall to the door and cast a spell to examine this ward.

A blast of magic erupted from it, a flare of white light and raw force that pushed her back. Lightning crackled from the door, catching her body and setting the shorter strands of hair on her head on end.

He warded the door against me! Caitlyn realized. Outrage filled her at that. She sucked in her breath hard, returned to their—no, her—bedroom, slammed the door, and sliced open her palm to cast a blood ward upon it. The children could knock without triggering a magic blast, but Anders could not.

The act of performing blood magic, even just the spell that her father had taught her as a child to protect the long-gone Hawke cabin in Lothering, soothed her rebellious, defiant temper. She cast a quick healing spell on her palm and stormed to bed.


Caitlyn dreaded the inevitable confrontation with Anders the next morning, but at last she decided that it was best to just have it out. They could not avoid each other forever. She mustered her courage and stalked into the family sitting rooms, expecting to see him with the children. Their doors had not been warded when she had passed by them in the corridor.

The children, however, were nowhere to be seen. Anders sat moodily on a sofa and did not even look at her as she entered the room.

"Where are Mal and Jo?" she asked.

Anders turned and scowled at her. "At your mother's."

Anger flooded her. "Oh? And what have you told them?"

"I haven't told them a thing," he said snidely, "though if you don't want them to know, maybe you should consider why that is."

This reflected her own thoughts the night before, but that fact only enraged her further, as she was still unable to face it. "No, I just don't want them lied to," she retorted, "since it seems even my own husband is more loyal to Harlan and Lusine than to me."

"That's ridiculous. I told you I didn't care about their wretched lives."

"Yet you sent our children out of our home because I gave those gangsters the deaths they earned. What am I supposed to conclude from that, Anders?" To her dismay, her voice broke. Her heart palpitated. That strange fear she'd noticed last night, the fear of herself, was taking over again...

He rose to his feet to face her. Anger, disappointment, and heartbreak—deep heartbreak—filled his face. "I care about you. I care about what this war and that crown have done to you," he burst out. His voice was breaking too.

"I am doing what I have to do to win this war and defeat our enemies!" she exclaimed. "Your idealism would have lost the war for us by now!"

The visible signs of his heartbreak and despair vanished at that, leaving only the anger. "Ideals are the only thing separating us from the worst of the Templars! But you wouldn't know anymore, would you?" he added viciously.

That was the end of Caitlyn's momentary regret and sorrow too. "You know," she snarled, "I've had enough of your hypocrisy! You held a show trial and a public execution-by-magic for those rapist Templars—"

"Which was a stupid thing to do! You saw that then!"

"—and you also recommended that I listen to Danarius's offer to let his pet slaver guild operate in exchange for gold!"

"And I was wrong to suggest that too!" he exploded. "I was wrong on both occasions. I learned from it. It isn't hypocrisy—it's wanting you not to make the same mistakes I made."

"You said something to me then," she continued, glaring at him. "You said that you'd do anything to save our children. I recall saying that I saw your point, and thinking about conflicting obligations—the obligations of a ruler and of a parent. Now there's a third: the obligation of a revolutionary leader."

Anders took a deep breath. "There are very few things I wouldn't do—maybe none at all—if our children's lives really were at stake, but you said to me then that we didn't know if that actually was the case. And it's the same now! How exactly did the revolution depend on torching Harlan and Lusine in the dead of night, Cait? How does it depend on imprisoning the Harimanns for no reason? Or searching every Free Mage in Kirkwall in your paranoia?"

She felt the truth of his words but could not admit it. The terror of the effigies, the suddenness of Lady Harimann's attack, the realization that the Coterie and the mage supremacists surrounded her on both sides, came back to her, overpowering everything else. I cannot risk it.

"If there is one thing I've learned in this war, it's that revolutionary leaders have enemies everywhere, lurking in every shadow, and they are not just the ones who declare war or even raise mobs. Lady Harimann's attack took me completely by surprise. My only options for preventing a repeat are to have guards constantly patrolling and snooping in everyone's home—which I know you wouldn't like!—or to use the same philosophy that we will use with our new weapons: deterrence through fear!"

Anders gaped at her. "Maker's breath, can you even hear yourself?"

"I've never executed an innocent," she defended herself. "Everyone was guilty of something! You should know, Justice!"

"You think this was justice?" he roared. "A secret trial and burning people in the Keep courtyard in the middle of the night?" Lights were beginning to flash on his body.

"Yes! Their supporters burned us in effigy! They raised a mob during a siege—a mob that they both admitted at last was meant to overthrow me—and you know as well as I that if it had succeeded, the cause of mage freedom itself would have burned! Magefire is exactly the kind of death they deserved!"

"It was an exercise of crude power and that's all it was!" he exploded. "There was no reason to do it that way! What was wrong with hanging, beheading, or a more merciful killing spell than burning them alive? Maker, Caitlyn, can't you see what you've become?"

"I have become a leader who does what must be done!" she screamed. "I have become an agent of justice for mages! You think you know what that means, but you don't anymore!"

"No!" he shouted back. "You don't know anymore! Cruelty and fear, that's all you're spreading! Secret executions in the dead of night, forced searches of fellow mages, paranoia and distrust of your own friends! Even of me! And locking people up indefinitely because of some vague, nebulous fear! What are the Harimanns guilty of? You're doing exactly what Templars do to mages!"

"At least they still have their lives!"

Anders laughed bitterly, throwing his face skyward. "At least they have their lives!" he repeated mockingly. His face twisted in an uncharacteristically ugly rictus. "Those robes ought to be grateful! We Templars could put every one of them to death! Locked up without evidence, searched, accused, distrusted, but at least they still have their lives!"

His words cut her deep and hard, but she could not show it. She could not let him see.

"You just want this city to cower in fear before you!" he continued when she did not speak. "That's what this is about and that's all that it is about. You said it yourself, Cait; you compared your rule to deterrence through weapons! And I saw who you're listening to now," he added darkly. "I saw who was in the courtyard, helping you set up that ugly little display. Not Aveline, not Varric, and for damned sure not me! You know why you tried to keep it a secret from us, don't you? You know why. You just won't admit it."

"I didn't tell you because I was done wasting my time fighting with you! I should have listened to Petrice years ago. It wouldn't have reached this point if I'd gotten rid of those two gangsters when she advised me to. Instead I listened to you. If anything, it's your fault things came to this sorry pass!" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Her heart thudded in fear for what she had just said.

Anders gaped at her in shock. "You blame me for this?" he gasped.

Caitlyn felt a rush of satisfaction despite her fear. With a sudden urge to use aggression to subdue that fear, she added, twisting the knife, "I followed your advice over hers. Harlan remained at large and continued to incite people against me. You follow the sequence, Anders?"

"Harlan was responsible for his own actions!"

Caitlyn ignored that. "If I had listened to no one but you all these years, we would probably be fugitives right now, and that would include our children! You have no idea how anything works in politics! But what should I expect?" she added rhetorically, ignoring the fact that the blue-white lightning flashes were increasing in intensity and brightness. "Of course you don't understand the real world! You spent years in a Circle, and you're a spirit abomination!"

There. It was said, and it could never be taken back. Her heart skipped a beat in fear for what she had just done and what it might mean—

At that, the spirit-light blazed from his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was not his own.

"You are unjust!" he roared in the voice of his spirit. Light crackled from head to toe, blazing from behind him in a burst of blue Fade-flame. Fear shot through Caitlyn like the fire that had burned last night in the courtyard.

The being that was her husband grabbed her by the shoulders. Anders already loomed a full seven inches taller, and he was more muscular and physically stronger. With Justice—no, she realized, with Vengeance in control, his rage turned against her, and deliberately so rather than accidentally as in those nightmare awakenings, he was absolutely terrifying. He shoved her against the wall, the spirit blaring from his eyes and crackling over his form.

"Take your hands off me!" Caitlyn screamed, eyes wide with fright.

Vengeance only glared back. The grip on her shoulders tightened. Blue light flickered across his body like lightning.

"Let me go!"

He gripped her shoulders harder still, his fingers pressing against her hard enough to hurt. Fear and pain alike ripped through her. How far would he go? She honestly did not know, and that terrified her.

"No," he said in the deep tones of the spirit, eyes blazing. "You listen—"

She was not going to. Mustering every ounce of mana that she could, she poured it all into a single spell, a force spell strong enough for battle, and directed its power entirely at him. The spell struck him squarely in the chest.

His grip broke, fingers forced off her shoulders. He careened backward, flying through the air, slamming against the wall on the other side of the room. Caitlyn stared back for a moment, heart thudding, terrified that he would lash out at her again. She had no more mana. If he did, her only option was blood magic. She didn't want to use it. Not against him. Even now, not against him.

But she did not have to. In that moment, as he struck the wall and crumpled to his knees, the spirit receded, leaving Anders in control of his body.

Horror came over him as he realized what he had done. He turned away, unable to look at her, and began to sob between his knees as Caitlyn fled the room.


Notes: One can debate the wisdom of, say, a public hanging, but within the context of Dragon 9:40 Kirkwall, it's perfectly defensible to say that that would not be an act of cruelty or despotism. That's why I had Caitlyn do it this way instead. (That and I like Chekhov's Gun, and I'd set up via Petrice's auto-da-fés and Caitlyn's own history of fire spells that the "gun" was hanging on the wall.) And Anders is absolutely correct about why she did it and what is motivating her in general.

This chapter was not easy to write. I love them so much. But realistically, by Dragon 9:40, Anders and Red Hawke, even together as mage liberationists, would have had a nasty fight, given enough stressors. It obviously wasn't Anders himself, and Corypheus was definitely a factor, but it arguably was Justice, or at least Vengeance.