A Just Cause

"I need your help." The sudden declaration startled Hawke, who dropped the dagger she was polishing. She looked up to see Anders standing above her, shifting from one foot to the other, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. She raised an eyebrow at him as she reached down to retrieve her knife from the dusty floor. Her brow furrowed in annoyance as she noticed bits of dirt clinging to the newly shined blade.

"What now?" She asked, brushing the dust from the dagger. "Let me guess: kittens need rescuing? Little old lady needs help up a ladder? Isabela fell into the sewers—again?"

"Ha ha, very funny." A touch of sarcasm entered the blonde mage's voice. "Actually, it's a more serious request. As in life or death."

That caught Hawke's attention and she looked up again from her blade. The look on Anders' face told her that this was indeed a matter of no small importance. She put the knife aside and leaned her elbows on her knees, bracing herself for whatever he was going to say next. "Go on."

"I found a way to separate myself from Justice." At that, Hawke could've sworn her eyebrows shot off the top of her head. She sat up straighter.

"You—what? But how? I thought that was impossible without ripping both your souls apart."

"Usually, it is. But I've been doing research—you know, with some of those books the Chantry doesn't like. Apparently, there is a way to separate two beings, including those in the form of abominations, where death is unnecessary. They didn't want this information getting out to the mages for fear that there would be a rise in blood magic, as any mage could perform this ritual to reverse any kind of possession." His eyes flashed at the further evidence of the Chantry's bigotry.

Hawke nodded, understanding creeping into her expression. "Religious tyranny aside, this is good news. If we can gather all the materials, you'll be free. Free to run off with Varric and have twenty half-dwarven children, just like you've always dreamed," Hawke sighed in mock delight at the thought.

"Andraste's knickerweasels," he sighed, exasperated. "Let's just gather the materials and get this over with."

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The Drakestone and Sela Petrae were both easy enough to find. As soon as the group emerged from the sewers, Isabela and Fenris left Anders and Hawke to their business, neither wanting to stay in the sewer vicinity any longer than necessary. The clinic was nearly empty upon their return; there was one young boy with an infected scratch on his leg, but that was easily taken care of.

As soon as the boy left, Anders extinguished the lanterns outside and bolted the door shut. He turned to Hawke, who was making herself comfortable on one of the bloodstained examination tables. She was picking at the rust-colored wood with her fingernail. "Nice furniture you got here. No wonder everyone in Kirkwall comes to visit you."

Anders crossed the room, rolling his eyes, and dropped the pack of materials by the table. "You're not going to be very helpful with this ritual since you're not a mage, but you're welcome to observe. Without touching anything." He smacked her curious hands away from the bag.

"Sooo… Are you going to draw a magic circle with wax and candles and rub your naked body down with this stuff or what?"

"As a matter of fact, today is your lucky day. I have to wear as little as possible so the energy can flow around me. I'll try to make it a good show for you," he teased. She clapped her hands together, only half-feigning her excitement. Who wouldn't want to see that mostly naked? "However," he continued, "I will not be rubbing myself down with anything. Those are the main ingredients in an elixir that will separate my mind from Justice's."

Hawke gave him a look of mild disgust. "You're going to drink that stuff? Delightful."

"Just wait: this'll be a big hit with the nobles in no time." Anders smirked at her, but she could see his teeth clenched behind his lips.

"Is he bothering you?" Hawke asked quietly, humor fading from her eyes. Anders laughed, but it sounded slightly forced.

"He's chewing me out for this. He's been yelling at me since I first proposed the plan to him. He understands what I want, and yet… his sense of duty is overwhelming." The mage rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "He exists now to fight the templars. There is nothing else for him."

Hawke stood up and pulled him into a quick embrace, willing her strength into him. She pulled back and smiled. "You can do this, Anders. I know he was your friend, but… he's changed. You know that."

"I know. And I thank you for your support. I don't know how I could have done this without you." He offered a sincere smile, a rarity in his current condition. "I'm going to get everything ready. It's time."

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Hawke kept forgetting to breathe. It was dark in the clinic; the preparations took a good few hours. The only source of light came from the odd blue flames that were floating near Anders' head as he sat cross-legged, whispering under his breath.
Relax, Hawke. She forced herself to take a breath, drawing warm, heavy air into her lungs. She tried to focus on his wonderful state of near-nakedness, but thoughts of the impending ritual dug their claws into her brain and scratched at her composure. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead, determined to stick this out with Anders, no matter how long it took or what happened during the ritual.

She was starting to get jittery. The mage had been sitting in that position for what felt like days, just muttering to himself while the eerie sapphire flames paraded around his head like a bizarre funeral procession. There was an intricately carved goblet sitting in front of him, though Hawke knew its outward beauty belied its foul contents.

Just as Hawke was starting to doze off on her feet, Anders' eyes shot open, blue light emanating from deep within his skull. His voice rose to a crescendo, and now Hawke could hear that he was not speaking the common tongue. Her ears were straining to make sense of the strange language spewing from his mouth, but the noises became nothing more than a jumbled racket clanging around in her head.

Anders—or was it Justice, now?—rose to his knees. With a boom that made Hawke jump, the mage swung his fist against the ground next to the chalice. Even in the dim light, Hawke could see hairline cracks radiating from his fist. The show of strength made her heart skip a beat.

Still he uttered that garbled tongue. His fist loosened, fingers spreading out along the cracks. The blue in his eyes was spreading through his veins, seeping out through his fingertips. The liquid in the cup was shifting like sand, defying gravity as Anders passed his other hand over the goblet.

The mage went quiet. An odd silence pervaded the room, broken only by the soft crackling of the pale blue flames. Anders grasped the stem of the glass and, ever-so-slowly, lifted it to his lips. With a few large gulps, he downed the liquid and slammed the cup back down onto the stone. Immediately, he began convulsing.
Hawke could only watch wide-eyed as the man doubled over, spasms rippling along his spine as he pressed his forehead to the cold floor. She heard his gasps and groans as the elixir worked its magic and felt utterly helpless for the first time in her life.

When Anders started shining like a beacon, Hawke started to think she may be hallucinating. Rays that shone like diamonds and lapis lazuli emanated from every pore, each moving towards the mage's back, rising from his body like a rainfall being sucked back up into the sky. An unnerving shriek rose with the light.
The glow began to take shape. The indefinite form of a man wavered, still peeling itself from Anders' spine. The shriek turned into two different sounds, one of a deeper tone that was ripped from the mage's lungs, and one that seemed to rise in pitch with the rays. Hawke saw the last few beams tear themselves from Anders' lower back, and the screech rose to an unbearable frequency. She covered her ears and fell to her knees as her vision blurred from the vibrations in her head.

Silence. After a moment, Hawke removed her palms from her head, noting that they came away slick. The small blue flame still circled Anders, seeming even fainter after the brilliance of the expulsion.

Hawke could see his chest rising and falling heavily. She crawled toward the dazed mage, reaching a shaky hand out to touch his shoulder. He flinched slightly then turned his head to look up at her from the ground. His eyes were glazed, but there was a small smile on his face.

His mouth was moving, but Hawke could hear nothing except for a dull ringing in her ears. She shook her head and pointed at her ears. Despite his obvious fatigue, he managed to raise a hand to her head and push some healing magic into her. The ringing instantly stopped and she could hear his harsh breathing, loud in the empty clinic.

"It's quiet," he said again, pushing himself over onto his back. "He's gone. I… I can think again. I can hear my own thoughts!" Upside down, he grinned at her like a cat with a saucer of milk. She smirked, his elation contagious.

"Good. Now you can lighten up. Ride a dragon, run through a field of daisies. Whatever the hell you like to do in your spare time." She collapsed next to him, eliciting an "oof" as she rested her head on his stomach.

"You can add collecting kittens to that list. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to pass out. Anders, over and out." And with that, he closed his eyes and snapped his fingers, extinguishing the flame, plunging them both into a comfortable darkness.