City on Fire

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Hawke stared into Anders's cold brown eyes, like chips of rock, for a few moments before her hands fell away from his arms, and she turned from him in shock. She'd known, of course, that Justice had all but taken over the man she'd once known, but that it had gone so far that he could contemplate the death of a man he had once called friend with no sign of remorse—She pictured Sebastian's bright blue eyes and gentle smile, and it was all she could do to hold back the torrent of tears.

"Sicari!*" Fenris hissed the word, and Hawke could practically feel the electricity that emanated from him, the lyrium markings glowing hot along his skin. He pushed past her, gripping Anders by the throat, squeezing. "Murderer!"

Anders hadn't moved, and he made no effort to struggle. He looked at Fenris calmly, with a gleam of smug satisfaction in his eyes, the first emotion Hawke had seen in their depths since he pulled himself out of the harbor. "Go ahead," Anders wheezed, getting the words past Fenris's restrictive grip on his throat with difficulty. "Do it. My name will be on the lips of every mage in Thedas for generations to come. My manifesto will make it clear what I have done, and why." He smiled. "Do it!"

His fist poised and pulsing with energy, ready to plunge into Anders's chest cavity, Fenris trembled. His other hand tightened and relaxed its grip on Anders's throat spasmodically. "Venhedis!" he snarled at last, shoving Anders away from him so that the mage stumbled and fell onto the stones. "I will not make you a martyr."

There was a silence then, as Anders looked up at Fenris. Blank surprise and an almost childlike disappointment were written on the mage's face.

Finally Meredith spoke, her crisp tones breaking the spell and making the unthinkable suddenly real. "Champion, this man is your companion. You will need to decide what is to be done with him."

Hawke nodded, accepting the responsibility and the culpability Meredith was implying. She looked around at the others. Fenris's eyes were dark with grief as he stared across the water toward the space where the Chantry had been. Aveline's lips were trembling with anger and sorrow, but her hand was gentle on Donnic's shoulder as her husband struggled to master his shock. Isabela swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, which glittered with the first tears Hawke had ever seen the pirate shed. Varric's face hurt the most to look at. The dwarf's eyes were flat and lifeless as he stared at Anders, and Hawke thought she could understand the depth of the betrayal Varric must feel. He had championed Anders's cause long after everyone else had given up on the mage.

"Varric?" Hawke asked. "What do you think?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Swallowing a few times, he finally managed a rusty squeak. "I think ... I think I'm sick of mages and Templars." He turned away, running a hand over Bianca's familiar form.

"Well, Champion?" Meredith asked.

Hawke searched her mind for the worst punishment she could think of. "Make him Tranquil." Her voice was hard, and it broke through Anders's detachment and his bewilderment at the collapse of his careful plans to be killed.

"Tranquil?" he gasped. "You can't!"

"She can't, but we can," Cullen said. "With pleasure."

"No!" Bethany shouted.

Orsino glanced at her in annoyance, and Hawke felt a rush of disappointment. After all this time, did her sister still hold feelings for this broken man?

Aveline said, "Bethany, he has to be punished."

"But not like that!" Bethany turned to her sister beseechingly. "Don't you see, if he's Tranquil he'll have no feelings. How will he ever understand what he did? You'll be letting him off too easy."

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