❛ god, i hope you’re satisfied. ❜
hamilton starters | accepting
Is he satisfied?
The world is burning around him, ashes rain from the sky, blood runs red in the streets enough so that their boots stick to the ground. Mage kills Templar, Templar kills mage, and abominations and demons shriek in the streets, called forth by all this death and pain and whatever miasma of misfortune bleeds from Kirkwall’s very soul.
And he did this. He’s clearer in mind now than he’s been for– for years, perhaps. For the first time since he woke up in Rolan’s camp with Justice in his head. The spirit is nothing but triumph and joy – they did this, they fought for their cause, they were right, this was good – but Anders? Anders wants to curl up and be sick. He wants to cry. He wants Astor to kill him; he knows Hawke wants to. He knows half of the people around him now want to. And really, if they were to do it, leave him another body in the streets, it would be well within their rights. He’d thank them, probably.
(But no, isn’t that just running away again? Like he ran from the Circle, ran from the Wardens, ran from all his problems until they quite literally blew up in his face? Death wold just be running away again, and the tiny rational part of him – that’s also apparently rather masochistic – says he has to live and suffer this uncertain future.)
But: Is he satisfied?
To say no would make it sound like he wants more of this. To say yes would make it sound like he’s happy.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from yelling earlier. “Yes. No– I–”
Words fail, and he glances into the sky as if the Maker himself would strike him down if he hoped hard enough, before looking at Hawke. “I’m tired,” he says quietly. He’s tired of this. Of everything. Of fighting, of running, of the reek of copper and sulfur and burning flesh that permeates Kirkwall right now. Of the blood on his hands and the voice in his head. He’s tired, and he’s sorry.
But sorry isn’t good enough, is it? Sorry wasn’t enough for Carver, for Leandra, for anyone before this – and it’s not enough now. So he doesn’t say it.
What will happen after, he doesn’t know – but for now, he’ll keep them all alive until this ends. It’s the least he can do.
Is he satisfied?
No, he thinks. I can’t be satisfied if I never wanted this.