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Description
She stands stock still, statues fidgeting more than her in this moment.

"Maeve…love…we…we should leave…" His voice is soft, almost a whisper and it caresses her form with ice. His kind…his kind did this to her.

She continues to stand still. Maybe if she remains frozen this will all go away. The surroundings…the corpses…Maker the SMELL…She fights back the urge to gag.

Her eyes finally land on a vase…off in the corner. It holds flowers…white lilies.

Hands rest gently on her shoulders, "We need to leave…you shouldn't stay here." His voice is as annoying as the whine of wasps in her ear and she slaps his hands away, the snarl rising from deep within her chest.

She glances towards the others… Varric, whose staring at the figure in white sprawled across the floor with tears in his eyes. Fenris, who glares at the still warm corpse of the monster that caused all this…as if he'd like nothing more than to kill it over and over again…her brother…always looking out for her.

She still doesn't speak, refuses to look at the abomination at her side…the one who swore magic wasn't evil…wasn't tainted. All lies.

She'd defended his kind, done her best to prove the templars wrong. Maker, she'd even dared to love one. Fool…imbecile…naïve child.

She leaves, moving towards the stairs that lead out to the warm night air of Lowtown as if she's submerged in water. The others follow close behind; not daring to say a word, the mage watching her retreating back and feeling Justice's fury itch under his skin.

The elf and dwarf leave them as they head to their respective homes, but he stays with her…still following a few steps behind.

She feels nothing as she enters her home, the warm fire blazing somewhat muted in the background. All she hears is her pulse hammering, the blood rushing…the sickeningly wet snick of Fenris's blade slicing through her mother's killer's abdomen.

Failure…it tastes of bitter acid on one's tongue, she is sure if she were to wash out her mouth for the rest of her life she'd never be rid of the taste.

Her armor falls from her form…the clatters of steel against stone making her twitch. This is a process she's done a thousand times…though recently it involved another's hands pulling the pieces off, it involved warm lips, hot breath and whispered promises that made her shiver. Not tonight…tonight she undresses alone.

Before she realizes it she's left in her under clothes. The simple tunic and pants are surprisingly clean considering the blood she's had to wade through.

She walks toward the fire, staring into its depths and hoping beyond all hope that this will all end up a dream…

This is just a dream…only a dream…Maker don't do this to me…you CANNOT do this to me…she CANNOT leave me here! I don't want to be alone!!!
. . .

Anders left his staff against the wall in the entranceway, Bodahn taking his feathered coat silently. The dwarf looked shocked, as if he didn't truly believe what had just happened yet.

Anders entered his new home, thanking Andraste that both Sandal and Orana were already asleep.

"Where?" He asked; his voice hoarse.

"The Mistress went upstairs." Bodahn gripped Anders's wrist, squeezing gently before moving off towards his and Sandal's room.

Anders moved up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he froze in the doorway.

She stood in front of the fire, her discarded armor in pieces around her, her face one of immeasurable agony. He ached to touch her, to hold her tight and whisper that everything was okay; it would all be alright…he wanted more than anything to be able to lie to her like that.

"You still think your kind should be free?" Her voice is low, gravelly and undeniably hostile.

"Yes."

"Why?" She hissed, finally looking at him. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face wet from tears. He watched her tremble with stifled rage.

"Because that man was crazy, life did that to him…not magic."

"Magic sure as hell helped him slice my mother to pieces!!" She screamed in his face, "Magic helped him butcher innocent women to make his sick and twisted doll!" Her body shook with the force of her sobs, "Of all the horrid things I've seen upon arriving at this Maker forsaken city…it was all done by your kind!!!" She shrieked.

Anders watched her recover, her chest heaving and her knees trembling. He felt his heart shatter at the look of utter hatred in her eyes as she examined him. His robes marking him as a mage and one of the monsters from her nightmares…

He stepped towards her, "You cannot label all of us as monsters for the deeds done by only a few."

"Ser Alrik was right…" She growled, "You should all be tranquil!!!" He flinched, that comment stabbing deeper than any blade…

"You don't mean that…" He said calmly, feeling Justice begin to stir. Maker not now…

"Oh but I do…and if I weren't exhausted I'd be at the chantry right now!" He then stood there and listened to her speak the words he'd heard from every templar…every prejudiced bastard like Fenris…every enemy before he struck them down. He took it all…she was angry…she was beyond heartbroken and she had no other way to voice it.

Her words cut him like knives, harsher and more unforgiving than any possible torture. He waited until her last remark fell from her lips.

"I love you Maeve" He murmured.

She froze, momentarily knocked off track before the rage came back, "Well I hate you!" She spat. That was a lie and he knew it.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a flash. She screamed, and then began to hit him, her fists pounding into his torso. He gripped her tighter, kissing the top of her head as she continued to hit him, "Get off me! Get your filthy apostate hands away from me you MALEFICAR!!!" She howled. Her body then went limp, Anders suddenly being the only thing holding her up as her protests faded into quiet sobs. Finally, her arms encircled him. She clung to him, burying her face in his neck as he dropped to the ground, pulling her into his lap.

"Shhhh…" He crooned into her hair, "I'm right here, shhh…" His hands slid up her back before his fingers began to comb through her hair, pulling the dark strands away from her face.

They stayed like that for hours, Anders barely registering the darkness of night beginning to fade into morning.

"Why?" Maeve choked out, "Why her?"

He kissed her forehead, "I don't have an answer for you my love, I'm sorry."

Her hands caressed his arms, cradling his face as she pulled back, "No…I should be sorry…Maker the things I said to you…" She started to cry again, pressing her forehead to his.

"Hush," He whispered, kissing her, "You were upset, angry…you've been through hell and I don't think anyone has ever given you the opportunity to vent." He kissed down her jaw before burying his face in her neck, "I know you didn't mean it…"

"Not a thing" She murmured, squeezing him tighter, "I didn't mean one fucking word of that…I'm so sorry Anders."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He picked her up, carrying her towards the bed, "you, darling, are exhausted…sleep."

He placed her on the bed, tucking her in, "I'll be here when you wake up."

Her hands reached up to bring his face back to her. He lost himself in her eyes…

"I love you" She whispered.

He kissed her fiercely, and with enough passion that they were both panting when he pulled away. Her eyes were half lidded, face flushed. Her delicious red lips were swollen from his kiss. Judging by the look on her face he knew what she wanted next…

"I love you too," He said with a smirk, "now go to sleep." And then he was gone, leaving her flushed and wanting.

"You bastard!" she called before turning over, hearing his booming laughter before losing consciousness.

Description
She stands stock still, statues fidgeting more than her in this moment.

"Maeve…love…we…we should leave…" His voice is soft, almost a whisper and it caresses her form with ice. His kind…his kind did this to her.

She continues to stand still. Maybe if she remains frozen this will all go away. The surroundings…the corpses…Maker the SMELL…She fights back the urge to gag.

Her eyes finally land on a vase…off in the corner. It holds flowers…white lilies.

Hands rest gently on her shoulders, "We need to leave…you shouldn't stay here." His voice is as annoying as the whine of wasps in her ear and she slaps his hands away, the snarl rising from deep within her chest.

She glances towards the others… Varric, whose staring at the figure in white sprawled across the floor with tears in his eyes. Fenris, who glares at the still warm corpse of the monster that caused all this…as if he'd like nothing more than to kill it over and over again…her brother…always looking out for her.

She still doesn't speak, refuses to look at the abomination at her side…the one who swore magic wasn't evil…wasn't tainted. All lies.

She'd defended his kind, done her best to prove the templars wrong. Maker, she'd even dared to love one. Fool…imbecile…naïve child.

She leaves, moving towards the stairs that lead out to the warm night air of Lowtown as if she's submerged in water. The others follow close behind; not daring to say a word, the mage watching her retreating back and feeling Justice's fury itch under his skin.

The elf and dwarf leave them as they head to their respective homes, but he stays with her…still following a few steps behind.

She feels nothing as she enters her home, the warm fire blazing somewhat muted in the background. All she hears is her pulse hammering, the blood rushing…the sickeningly wet snick of Fenris's blade slicing through her mother's killer's abdomen.

Failure…it tastes of bitter acid on one's tongue, she is sure if she were to wash out her mouth for the rest of her life she'd never be rid of the taste.

Her armor falls from her form…the clatters of steel against stone making her twitch. This is a process she's done a thousand times…though recently it involved another's hands pulling the pieces off, it involved warm lips, hot breath and whispered promises that made her shiver. Not tonight…tonight she undresses alone.

Before she realizes it she's left in her under clothes. The simple tunic and pants are surprisingly clean considering the blood she's had to wade through.

She walks toward the fire, staring into its depths and hoping beyond all hope that this will all end up a dream…

This is just a dream…only a dream…Maker don't do this to me…you CANNOT do this to me…she CANNOT leave me here! I don't want to be alone!!!
. . .

Anders left his staff against the wall in the entranceway, Bodahn taking his feathered coat silently. The dwarf looked shocked, as if he didn't truly believe what had just happened yet.

Anders entered his new home, thanking Andraste that both Sandal and Orana were already asleep.

"Where?" He asked; his voice hoarse.

"The Mistress went upstairs." Bodahn gripped Anders's wrist, squeezing gently before moving off towards his and Sandal's room.

Anders moved up the stairs, taking them two at a time until he froze in the doorway.

She stood in front of the fire, her discarded armor in pieces around her, her face one of immeasurable agony. He ached to touch her, to hold her tight and whisper that everything was okay; it would all be alright…he wanted more than anything to be able to lie to her like that.

"You still think your kind should be free?" Her voice is low, gravelly and undeniably hostile.

"Yes."

"Why?" She hissed, finally looking at him. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face wet from tears. He watched her tremble with stifled rage.

"Because that man was crazy, life did that to him…not magic."

"Magic sure as hell helped him slice my mother to pieces!!" She screamed in his face, "Magic helped him butcher innocent women to make his sick and twisted doll!" Her body shook with the force of her sobs, "Of all the horrid things I've seen upon arriving at this Maker forsaken city…it was all done by your kind!!!" She shrieked.

Anders watched her recover, her chest heaving and her knees trembling. He felt his heart shatter at the look of utter hatred in her eyes as she examined him. His robes marking him as a mage and one of the monsters from her nightmares…

He stepped towards her, "You cannot label all of us as monsters for the deeds done by only a few."

"Ser Alrik was right…" She growled, "You should all be tranquil!!!" He flinched, that comment stabbing deeper than any blade…

"You don't mean that…" He said calmly, feeling Justice begin to stir. Maker not now…

"Oh but I do…and if I weren't exhausted I'd be at the chantry right now!" He then stood there and listened to her speak the words he'd heard from every templar…every prejudiced bastard like Fenris…every enemy before he struck them down. He took it all…she was angry…she was beyond heartbroken and she had no other way to voice it.

Her words cut him like knives, harsher and more unforgiving than any possible torture. He waited until her last remark fell from her lips.

"I love you Maeve" He murmured.

She froze, momentarily knocked off track before the rage came back, "Well I hate you!" She spat. That was a lie and he knew it.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a flash. She screamed, and then began to hit him, her fists pounding into his torso. He gripped her tighter, kissing the top of her head as she continued to hit him, "Get off me! Get your filthy apostate hands away from me you MALEFICAR!!!" She howled. Her body then went limp, Anders suddenly being the only thing holding her up as her protests faded into quiet sobs. Finally, her arms encircled him. She clung to him, burying her face in his neck as he dropped to the ground, pulling her into his lap.

"Shhhh…" He crooned into her hair, "I'm right here, shhh…" His hands slid up her back before his fingers began to comb through her hair, pulling the dark strands away from her face.

They stayed like that for hours, Anders barely registering the darkness of night beginning to fade into morning.

"Why?" Maeve choked out, "Why her?"

He kissed her forehead, "I don't have an answer for you my love, I'm sorry."

Her hands caressed his arms, cradling his face as she pulled back, "No…I should be sorry…Maker the things I said to you…" She started to cry again, pressing her forehead to his.

"Hush," He whispered, kissing her, "You were upset, angry…you've been through hell and I don't think anyone has ever given you the opportunity to vent." He kissed down her jaw before burying his face in her neck, "I know you didn't mean it…"

"Not a thing" She murmured, squeezing him tighter, "I didn't mean one fucking word of that…I'm so sorry Anders."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He picked her up, carrying her towards the bed, "you, darling, are exhausted…sleep."

He placed her on the bed, tucking her in, "I'll be here when you wake up."

Her hands reached up to bring his face back to her. He lost himself in her eyes…

"I love you" She whispered.

He kissed her fiercely, and with enough passion that they were both panting when he pulled away. Her eyes were half lidded, face flushed. Her delicious red lips were swollen from his kiss. Judging by the look on her face he knew what she wanted next…

"I love you too," He said with a smirk, "now go to sleep." And then he was gone, leaving her flushed and wanting.

"You bastard!" she called before turning over, hearing his booming laughter before losing consciousness.