SPOILERS! If you have not finished DA2, and you hate spoilers, do not read further! On the other hand, if you come back later, that would be lovely…

Chapter 1

We had stopped running. It wouldn't last; a day or two if we were lucky, hours if not. We'd been running for weeks, not feeling safe enough to even pause until we'd crossed the Antivan border.

The inn was large, so we could remain unnoticed and disreputable so that they would rent a small room to needle and pin man and his cowering servant, for that is what we had become.

We sat on the rough floor before a small fire, my back against a chair and my arms around Anders. The lovemaking had been tender—the first time we had been together since the incident. It had not seemed wise to tarry on the road and neither of us were emotionally or physically capable of quick sex just now. I let my fingers trail down his chest counting the ribs that stood out there. The constant running, the sparse fare and a disturbing lack of appetite had taken their toll on his lean frame. Each bone stood proud like the cross braces of a ship in the making, the skin stretch across them rough with the rubbing of coarse cloth.

It was the constant abrasion of dirt and hand weave that caused this pause as much as our exhaustion. We had to rest and treat our blisters and scratches with what herbs Anders had found in the woods or we would simply drop by the road. We could not risk even a small magic, let alone healing, no matter how necessary or how much relief it would bring.

I hated to destroy our tiny idyl, but there would never be a good time to ask the question that had to be asked.

"Why?" I whispered softly. There was no coy questioning of what I meant, no evasion, he simply uncoiled gracefully then reached down for me.

"If we must talk of this, I would do it face to face," he replied as he led me to the rough table that graced our small room. I sat on the stool provided and looked across the table, taking his hand in my mine. It was as emaciated as the rest of him, curled and knobby like the claw of an ancient woman. I looked into those eyes, so full of compassion, trying to ignore the bald scalp above them. That had been part of the disguise too, shaving those blond locks that I so loved to run my fingers through.

We both had beards now as well, Anders' growing in surprisingly quickly and a deep rich red. I was seldom without some beard unless I shaved three times a day and my chin too was now fluffy and my hair a bit longer and much more unkempt. There was no hiding my distinctive eyes or his aquiline nose however, so the proud mage now posed as my mistreated servant and I as a merchant on the margins, keeping our heads down as much as possible. It made me look untrustworthy and costs many sales, which was good since I had not idea where I would replenish my stock when it was gone. We had acquired our wares from a dead merchant lying in the road not far outside the Kirkwall city gates. Apparently bandits weren't interested in needles and thread.

If anyone wondered why a trader as lowly as I apparently was would keep a servant, they probably figured it was for the joy I got from abusing him. I hated that part of our play acting, but it was effective. There were too many looking for us now that the bounty had been posted, but those looking for two strong men would not take a second glance at this seller of sewing notions and his cringing shadow.

I looked down as I rubbed his hand between mine before looking back up and waiting for him to begin. Without preamble he said, "It had to be done. You know that as well as I. Not that exactly perhaps, but things were getting worse and, well, all action was too one sided. The Templars and their mad Meredith woud have had us all dead or Tranquil within a fortnight. I didn't want to be the one, but no one else was volunteering." He smiled that crooked smile and I felt my heart break a bit more.

"But you had planned months in advance," I challenged.

He nodded sadly, "Yes. I could see the way things were going. I had planned, but I never intended to follow up. It was a last stand, a totally desperate act, and not one I expected to survive. That I had the means in place just shows how long things had been going to the dogs."

I looked down again, I couldn't meet his eyes as much as I understood. "And the Chantry is the source of it all?" I asked. "That's why you struck there?"

He raised my chin and stroked my cheek before saying, "It was the only target that would have enough impact to shake people out of their blindness. We killed how many desperate souls who had turned to blood magic? And didn't I do my part? They were, at heart, more innocent than anyone in the Chantry. They were never given a choice, ripped from their homes as children and put under tyrannical rule. And the Chantry…" he stared over my shoulder, his thoughts distant as he continued, "It was when I took the evidence of what Alaric had done to Elthina that I realized nothing good would come from the Chantry. She was concerned about his death. His death! Not about all of the children that he had abused or the mages, mages who had passed their harrowing in many cases, that he had made Tranquil. She could not, did not even bother to deny that she knew his intentions—he had told her of them himself. And if I could notice the increase in the Tranquil from my infrequent visits to the Gallows Courtyard… well… It became apparent that the Chantry and the Templars game was to withhold official sanction while condoning the act."

It was my turn to nod. I knew it all, I had reasoned it out exactly the same way, but I had to hear it from his lips.

"Was it worth it?" I asked.

"Nothing would be worth it, and nothing can be changed," he said. "I did what I had to do. That I live is a surprise, whether it becomes a blessing or a torment we've yet to see. If I am sorry for anything, it is what I've reduced you to. To prevent that…"

I stopped him with a finger to his lips. "No. You did what you had to do, the only one brave enough to do it. It is enough. It would have all come apart in the end, but now, at least, there is some chance that things may come out better rather than continuing down the path of destruction. You lanced the boil that had become Kirkwall. It is painful, but it now may heal cleanly."

"Or not," he answered. I could only nod. Yes, perhaps it had all been for nothing. Odds were things would not change or would change for the worse. But what was done was done, survival was all that mattered now.