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The tension was high between Knight Enchanter Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino, far more than usual, and she tried to get them to see reason. See a middle ground. Despite her best efforts, she failed. She wasn’t exactly surprised; in spite of everyone calling her the "Champion", she failed at a grand number of things. But now was not the time for such thoughts. Meredith was putting her gauntlets on Orsino.
“You will not bring her Grace into this.” Meredith half growled, half shouted at Orsino.
Hawke made a step forward; she would have to physically separate them, damn the consequences.
“The Grand Cleric cannot help you.” Anders voice rung out, redirecting the tension. All of them paused to look at him. Anders had spoken up before, to Meredith, a time or two. But the sureness in his voice about what the grand cleric would or would not do was out of place.
Meredith, angered to be interrupted by anyone not worth her notice, like the “champion”, stamped up to him threateningly. Hawke placed her hands on the pommels of her daggers in reaction, although she stilled herself. Meredith would not attack the “Champion’s” lover, apostate or not, so blatantly before Hawke.
Anders continued, un phased by the threatening body language of the Knight commander, glaring at her as he made his declaration. “I will not stand by and let you treat all mages like criminals!” Anders brought his staff forth from a tie at his back, stabbing the butt of it into the stone to underscore his point. Then he turned his body slightly towards Orsino as he took one step forward “--while those who should lead bow to our Templar jailers.” He slammed his staff again.
Orsino’s nostrils flared as he lifted his chin, offended, “How dare you--”
Anders did not let him continue, speaking over him, “The Circle has failed us, Orsino. Even you can see this.”
Hawke’s concern was now changing to panic, as Anders began to glow and crackle with blue energy. Anders, she could handle. Sweet passionate loving Anders. But Justice was an unknown quality. What was Justice coming out for?
“The time has come to act.” The energy dissipated, and Hawke’s panic lessened, although she was taut with the stress of the near miss. Anders turned away from them, hiding his face, and continued. “There can be no half measures.”
The finality of his tone made the panic return.
“Anders...What have you done?” Hawke stepped closer, carefully reaching out. She needed to sooth him and in doing so, soothe herself. This was just another day trying to keep the peace. Just another day…
More quietly, and with a feeling that made a jolt of fear surge in Hawke’s stomach, Anders turned his gaze on the Chantry. “There can be no turning back.”
The ground began to shake and Hawke’s senses kicked into gear. Where would the attack come from? For something was happening, that much was certain.
And then the Chantry exploded; the searingly bright light blinding her, and preventing her from doing much more than throw her arms before her face in instinct. What probably only a minute later, but felt like ten, Hawke dropped her arms in time to see flames falling from the sky like rain. She saw a bit of it land to her right and realized that it was the pages of the Chant, burning to ashes. Just as the city was burning, she realized. She stared at where the Chantry used to be, shock making her silent and still.
To her left, Anders voice broke the silence. “There can be no peace.”
Hawke turned to look at him. His face was resolute. Grim. But shock? Surprise? Horror? None of it was present. He...he’d known.
He’d known. He’d known because… because he’d done it. Nausea rolled in her stomach. No. No. Sweet Anders. Passionate Anders. He wouldn’t have done this. NO. Hawke’s eyes teared, though she swallowed to keep them from gathering too much as well as to keep her stomach from turning. Her words...what to say… she couldn’t speak…
Orsino turned to Anders, “Why? Why would you do such a thing?”
Still mute, still amazingly dry eyed, Hawke waited for Anders’ answer.
His tone was still raspy with anger as he replied, “I removed the chance of compromise. Because there is no compromise.”
Hawke felt frozen. Meredith and Orsino were shouting at each other again, but Hawke felt deaf as well as mute now. No...Anders...why… how...when…
Then everyone was looking at her, and Anders, her sweet Anders, her heart was speaking... and she frowned as she forced herself to hear once more.
“--can’t be stopped now. You have to choose.”
Choose? Choose what? Choose… When. And then it hit her. All those months ago…
“Was that…”her voice quiet, weak. She swallowed. “Why you needed me to distract the Grand Cleric?” There. Sharp. Anger licked at the edges of her numbness. Her strength returning.
Anders frowned, the first sign of regret tinging his features. “If you knew what I was doing, you would have felt honor bound to stop me. I couldn’t take that chance. The Circle is an injustice. The world needs to see!”
More words, her replies more reactions, not well thought out. She could not even begin to describe what it was she felt at this moment. It came time to make a choice, and as she tore her eyes away from Anders for the first time since the explosion, she looked to her sister, Bethany.
“I will not let her slaughter all of you.” Her sister smiled. Good. She hadn’t totally failed at at least one thing.
“Stand with them and you share their fate.” Meredith glowered, threatening. It was not empty.
If Hawke hadn’t been feeling so disturbingly and emotionally ill, she might have laughed. The mages’ fate seemed that of misery and frustration with a strong likelihood of death; she knew it all too well.
Her voice was strong. “I’m not helping you, Meredith.”
Meredith glared at her. “You are a fool, Champion.” Meredith motioned to her templars. “Kill them all!” And vacated the scene.
Hawke and her friends fought against the Templars; as she worked her tools and blades across the shields and armor of her Templar foes, Hawke could not help but notice the still form of Anders. What was he doing? How could he not lift his staff to protect her even now, after what he’d just done? Her anger guided her daggers deeper into her enemies. Her viciousness leaving no prisoners. As the last Templar fell, their abilities meaningless against foes who wielded little magic, Hawke threw her bloodied blades to the ground and stalked over to the seated form of Anders. He’d turned his back to the battle just like he’d turned his back on her. Her lips were pursed and her mouth was dry as she glared into the back of his neck.
He started to speak. “Shut up.” Hawke demanded and Anders flinched a bit. He was probably certain she would execute him on the spot. She wasn’t so certain she still wouldn’t do so. Hawke came around to the front of him, still glaring.
She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to vomit if only to relieve the tension in her body as embarrassing as it would be to do so.
The sound of a slap rang out across the small courtyard, and Hawke was milldly surprised that she had been the source of it. She felt the sting on her hand, and Anders’ face was slight titled to the right from the blow. Hawke looked at her hand, then she looed back at Anders. And slapped him again. And Again. And Again. Then she tackled him back of his seat and he fell, not even trying to put up a fight. This...this… he was just lettig her hurt him. Just letting her. Like he wasn’t even surprised. Like he’d expected it.
How dare he
She began to speak, straddling his waist, even as she continued to batter her hands against his face, his shoulders, his chest. “I trusted you!”
slap.
“You said you loved me.”
Slap.
“Three years!”
Slap.
“Three years you lay beside me!”
Slap
“Three years you lied to me!”
Slap
Hawke stopped, a sob ripped suddenly from her throat. Tears streamed down her face as she slid her hands around Anders throat, her eyes blinded to the scratches and red swelling of his cheeks from her battering. Hawke gritted her teeth, her jaw tight, as she spoke, her voice muted by the thickness of her tongue.
“How could you… You said you couldn’t bear losing me, said you needed my protection, needed my home. I chose you, chose you over the others because your passion… your passion for me overwhelmed me and I realized that I loved you.” She tightened her hands around his throat, approaching the point of actually choking him.
“You didn’t care that I’d bedded and left half our comrades. You didn’t care that Justice told you not to love me.” Her hands tensed, the urge to make him suffer rising. His amber eyes gazed unflinching into the green of hers. His features were composed in sadness. He was sad that he’d hurt her. DAMN HIM. She sobbed a few moments, not holding back her moans of pain and anger even as snot began to drip and she sniffed it back in. She leaned in closer to his face. That tears began to trickle slowly from Anders' eyes were not lost on her.
She took a breath, even as the tears tickled off her chin and fell upon his face. “You said...We were a love that was going to change things, Anders.” Her brows knitted together in pain, remembering their first night together. How he’d cupped her cheek in his hand and said... “We were going to break the rules and change things and I thought…..” Her teeth hurt from how much she gritted them, as she leaned forward, putting pressure against his throat. Saw his flesh give way, his amber eyes closing. Accepting.
“I hoped.” Bitterness laced that sentiment even as Anders face grew a bit pale from the lack of blood supply. Her grip loosened, her anger fading for the moment as she leaned back again. Instinctually, he gasped for breath. She needed to tell him. She was more quiet now, as she spoke, though the tears didn’t stop. The amber eyes lit upon her face once more.
“I supported you, I encouraged you, and I tried to keep you safe. Did you know how emotionally fucked up I felt when you used my love for you to get those mysterious ingredients? It had never even occurred to me to separate you from Justice. It was a decision you’d made before you met me, and I accepted all of you. But when you said you wanted to separate, then I knew that I must help you. I was so focused on your happiness that I was blind. And all I asked was one Maker be damned question and you accused me of trusting you less...loving you less... And that made my heart ache with a sadness I’d only known thrice before. You accusing ME of loving you LESS hurt me nearly as much as my own father, brother and mother dying.”
The anger again renewed and again, Anders did not struggle, hands laying limply on the cobbles, as she began to strangle him once more. “I should have slapped you then. For making me doubt my love for you--NO. No. I never doubted my love. It consumed me. No. For making me doubt myself, I should have left you. But I was weak, I was sick with loving you and needing you the way you said you’d needed me. And now people are dead. People are dying right now as I continue fucking around with your stupid stubborn lying ass.”
She laughed, but it was hollow. “Some Champion I am then.” She pressed harder, his eyes closing once more. His hands twitched, brushed against her calves as Anders fought against his instincts to struggle. He was beginning to pass out. She watched this, squeezing harder, a part of her detached from it. She was killing the man she loved with her bare hands, in the middle of a courtyard, burning buildings casting light on the scene, as her friends stood idle watching her pained retribution. The glow of his amber eyes was lost again as his lids came down. His hands stopped twitching. He was still, one could hardly see him draw breath.
She removed her hands. Withdrew one of her small throwing blades. It shimmered dully in the odd orange glow of the flames nearby. It was time to end this.
It was time to be Champion.
Gripping it tightly, she leaned back, bringing the blade enough of a distance away to gain momentum.
She screamed as she brought the blade with full force downwards.
The blade shattered against the stone and her hand hurt from the force traveling back into her arm. She panted, her breath brushing against the mix of Anders’ and her own tears upon his cheek.
“Damn you.”
She pushed herself off of him, turning her back on his form on the ground. Her friends stood frozen, whether merely waiting, shocked, or angry themselves, she didn’t care. Fenris was not among them. Ah yes. Somewhere in all that mess, Fenris had left with Meredith. He hadn’t exactly been her main focus... Hawke paused by Merril and Merril looked at her...TO her, waiting, expecting.
Hawke roughly wiped the remaining wetness off her face, looking at her wet hand like it belonged to a stranger. Then wiped it on her pants. She sighed. She was already tired and there was so much damage to fix.
“Merril. Get him up. We’ll see you two later at the Gallows.” Merril nodded, padding over to Anders’ still form.
“Aveline, Varric, Bethany, you’re with me. We have a hopeless cause to defend.”