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"The time has come to act," said the dual voice of Anders and the spirit he had given his flesh to. "There can be no half measures."
"Anders, what have you done?" Hawke asked with growing horror. Addressing the man, not the spirit, Fenris noted. But was there truly any difference at this point?
"There can be no turning back." There was such finality in Anders's tone.
A great rumbling began as the ground heaved. Suddenly the Chantry was collapsing, destroyed from within, but the rubble was, impossibly, spiraling upward. And then it simply disintegrated before their eyes. Fenris's ears were ringing and the lyrium mapping his flesh burned, unusually affected by whatever magics Anders had employed for his bomb. Fenris knew he wasn't the only one feeling as though the breath had been knocked out of him.
"There can be no peace..."
Chaos erupted around them, putting them in the eye of the storm. Sebastian fell to his knees in anguish, then Fenris could hear him praying for the dead. He kept his eyes averted, ignoring the acrid taste of bile in his mouth.
"I removed the chance of compromise, because there is no compromise."
The Knight-Commander enacted the Right of Annulment, her fanaticism reaching a level that struck Fenris as quite nearly... gleeful. Something was not right with the woman, something beyond even zealotry, and Fenris couldn't help but think magic was at the root of it. Old prejudices died hard.
Lines were to be drawn, and there was no coming back from the decisions made that day. Sebastian spoke of ending Anders where he was stood, but still he deferred to Hawke. Most eyes were on the Champion of Kirkwall, who struggled to make sense of the senseless and ultimately decided to defend the mages -- and Anders -- at all costs, but Fenris instead was taking the measure of those who had been their companions for the last several years. Sebastian's eyes met his and the human returned his scrutiny, but said nothing.
There comes a time when you must stop running, when you turn and face the tiger.
Were he and Anders really so different?
He didn't condone what the mage had done; worse, he understood why he'd done it, and Fenris hated the part of himself that knew he could have done the same, had he been in Anders's place. But Hawke and the others had helped him to realise something. His hatred was poison, and in the end he had only himself to blame for continuing to swallow it, allowing it to slowly kill him from within.
Anders already looked like a man half dead. Succumbing to his own poison. But it wasn't too late. Fenris had to believe it wasn't too late for Anders... that it wasn't too late for himself. It was the man, not the mage, in Anders that Fenris had come to know, and he felt that man and his unwavering convictions were still worth saving.
"Stand with them and you share their fate," Meredith warned.
Hawke was resolute. "I can live with that."
Meredith's forces closed on them and the fight was on. It was frenetic, and more than once Fenris was spared from friendly fire by virtue of his quick reflexes alone. He was more mindful when it came to his own capabilities, and he had to be -- shaking off a wayward ice spell was a bit different from an accidental lyrium infused fist through the heart. At one point Fenris found himself cut off from his allies and at a distinct disadvantage, surrounded as he was, and he could swear that it was arrows, not bolts, which found their mark and helped turn the tide in his favour. His suspicion was confirmed not long after when he caught a glimpse of telltale white armour as its wearer left the fray. Soon the skirmish was ended, with the templars simply outclassed.
Hawke requested Anders's aid in defending the mages. Anders was clearly surprised he wasn't being turned away, and in particular that even Fenris had come to his defense and fought for him.
"I have judged you unfairly," Anders offered him by way of apology, but they both knew it wasn't the time or place to delve deeper into it. They'd tackle that discussion later.
Merrill volunteered some much needed words of comfort, and even Varric, Isabela, and Aveline gave some words of camaraderie after their own fashion, rallying for what might be their last fight together. Sebastian advanced on the group, still radiating a barely suppressed rage and now threatening to bring an army with him on his return to Kirkwall. Fenris subtly shifted his stance, effectively putting himself between Sebastian and Anders alongside Hawke.
"Even you?" Sebastian accused Fenris in a low voice, perhaps having expected to find an ally in Fenris's blind hatred of mages. And he would have, not so long ago.
"Faithless is he who would forsake a friend in the hour of his greatest need," Fenris replied gravely, choosing his words with care. It was in the same spirit as one of the canticles of the Chant of Light, and that was no coincidence.
It had its intended effect; Sebastian looked stricken and was silent for a long moment, confusion and hurt plain in his expression, before it settled finally into grim resignation. Fenris was dimly surprised by the depth of Sebastian's regard for him, that his words could carry such influence. It called to mind the happier times they'd shared, long hours spent in conversation, walking the city and countryside together, and on several occasions Sebastian had even assisted Fenris in his literacy efforts, the fragile threads of friendship forming between them over the years. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised, then, that Sebastian might be feeling betrayal on several levels. And Fenris was sorry for it.
Sensing that something not intended for an audience was taking place, Hawke instructed Fenris on where to meet them once he was finished, then departed with the others for the Gallows to prepare for the upcoming battle.
Alone now, the Tevinter elf and would-be prince looked at one another. One covered in grime and blood, the other in literal shining white armour.
"I'm sorry about the Grand Cleric. Had I known what he was planning..."
Sebastian started to say something, but seemed to change his mind. He shook his head. "You choose strange allies, Fenris," he replied softly, his sorrow apparent. "But I admire your loyalty. I always have."
Fenris gave him a long look, wishing for so many things. That recent events had transpired differently. That they could revisit one of those happier days in the past, the ashes and death of the present washed away by the golden sunlight of an afternoon they'd spent together. He could nearly feel the warmth on his face as he thought about it. "You have a curious way of making me want to be a better person," he admitted at length, faltering when he tried to put into words what he was feeling. "I wish... we had more time."
"I will miss our conversations," Sebastian said, some of the fight gone from him now, his look suggesting that it wasn't merely the conversations that would be missed. "My offer will stand, should you find yourself in Starkhaven one day. You'd be welcome there, and safe."
Fenris knew better than to ask him to reconsider, knowing what Elthina had meant to him. Anders wasn't likely to even be in Kirkwall by the time the prince of Starkhaven claimed his birthright and roused his forces, and surely Sebastian realised that as well, so Fenris was left to assume there were other, better reasons for this decision.
"May we meet as friends on that day," Fenris said quietly, and to his astonishment Sebastian took his hands in his own, heedless of the gore coating Fenris's gauntlets, and held them against his heart in an unfamiliar, tender gesture. When their eyes met, Fenris found his hope mirrored in Sebastian's expression. There had been so many endings already that day, but this wasn't to be one of them.