Mage's Escape
Kinkmeme fill for: Bethany's POV
Hawke sides with the mages, because of her sister. Then they are on the run. How does Bethany feel about this? Guilt, angst and drama please!
If you want to include a romance I would love it if it was Beth/Fenris or Beth/Cullen.
…...
I lean against a crate and look out at the crystalline deep blue water. It took me a few days to gain my sea-legs, but now seeing the waving waters cresting on the dark wood of the hull brings me comfort. The Siren's Call II really is a beautiful ship, and I can see why Isabela treats it like her child. She cares about it and loves the open waters.
I feel myself frown as I remember the other object of the pirate wench's affection, my sister. It's been almost a week since our escape from Kirkwall, and I can't still quite understand or want to understand what happened there, in the Gallows.
Why did Marian defy Meredith? There were rumors, there's always rumors in the Circle, that Marian worked with Meredith in the past, that she'd aided the Templars many times before. Then why did it change there, when it mattered? Why did she risk everyone's safety to fight against the one woman who held the city in her lyrium-stained palm?
"Because of you." My eyes widen as I hear a deep, rumbling voice reply to my internal wonderings. Well, I thought they were internal, but I must have said the last out-loud.
I turn around and come to be eye-to-eye, or well just about, with the piercing forest-green gaze of the elf, Fenris. I didn't know him for long before I went to the Circle, but I remember the looks he'd send me, Merrill and Anders from time-to-time. I feel my frown deepen. I don't want to talk to him, and least of all about Marian or my feelings.
"How would you know what my sister was thinking?" I snap at him in reply.
He seems to ignore my temper and says, "I saw the way she looked at you just before she claimed allegiance with the mages." He snorts, "She does not hide her emotions well for a rogue."
I frown more. I always thought her far too sincere for an archer, but to hear the elf talk about my sister in such a way adds more fire to my temper. "Be careful how you speak of Marian," I snap yet again. A distant part of my mind says that the Gallows have changed me. But I try to ignore it. I know I was more docile around the other... residents... of the Circle, but my anger had been slowly building – and in the wake of my former home's destruction, I can no longer rein it in, as it seems.
This time he frowns, "I meant no disrespect to your sister, mage."
"Mage?" I laugh bitterly. "That's all you see me as, isn't it?"
He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms at me. For some reason I get the feeling of being treated as a disrespectful child being addressed by someone older and wiser, and not wanting their wisdom. Perhaps that's what's really happening, since I do not know how old the elf is, and time has always been... gentler with elves. Perhaps he is even wiser than Marian. I snort aloud at my own thoughts. Marian wouldn't like that, I think.
He continues and ignores my odd behavior, "I always thought you different than the others." I get the feeling that he may not only be talking about Anders and Merrill. "Perhaps I was wrong."
…...
It's the next morning, and I'm back to staring holes into the rocking waves of the open waters. My mood isn't much better, I acknowledge, but I can't seem to come out of this angry, well, mess I feel I'm in. I can't very well describe it, but I know it's no good. Mother would know what to do. My eyes slip closed at her memory. Mother always knew what to say to make me feel better, to make me see the err of my ways or thinking. I miss her. I miss her so very much.
"Your mood seems to change as much as this damnable ocean." I hear a deep voice rumble, and am not all too surprised to see Fenris standing before me again.
I sniffle and wipe at the corners of my eyes where tears have welled. "My sister really chose the mages because of me?" I ask. I've been able to think of little else all night, other than the thoughts of Mother assaulting me at such seemingly random times.
He nods once, but anything he was to say is interrupted by the sounds of giggling – the kind more reserved for young girls. We turn our heads towards its source, and I see Isabela slapping the backside of my sister. I sigh, shake my head, and turn out towards the open waters again.
I miss Cullen, I realize. His absence isn't probably helping anything, we have been together for years. We were together for years, I correct myself, but won't let my anger tarnish my thoughts of him. And oh my thoughts of him. His clear, hopeful eyes. His curly hair as soft as down. His strong, broad shoulders. The chiseled planes of his chest. The pearly-white scars that line his left side all the way down to the dip of his hipbone. I clear my throat and my thoughts, before they wander to the parts of his anatomy that will have me embarrass myself in front of Fenris.
"Your thoughts are elsewhere today," I hear the elf say, and am reminded of his penchant for stating the obvious.
I sigh, "Yes."
I see him hesitate for a moment before he asks, "May I ask where?"
I pinch the bridge of my nose. It might help to talk to someone actually. Talking to Fenris probably wouldn't be the worst idea I've ever had. "Cullen," I murmur quietly. I look at the elf out of the corner of my eye and see that he's raised one dark brow at me, and suddenly I'm spilling my guts out to the brooding warrior. "I thought he was handsome," I blurt. "And, well... err... and well, we became close." I rub a palm down the side of my face, "He was one of the few things that I looked forward to in the Circle. He... he had been close to another mage before. Our... our cousin. You know the one... And, ah, well I guess I miss him." I shake my head. "I miss him a lot," I admit and sigh. "We knew nothing could become of it. We knew it would have to end someday... But... Just the way it ended. How everything ended... I don't know. I don't know why he stayed behind. He could have come. It just seems so wrong. So very wrong."
I look at Fenris, hoping to the Maker that he understands. I need someone to understand. I need someone to help me. I feel so wrong. So angry. So sad. So confused. My thoughts are confusing. They go from one thing to the next. One tragedy to the next. I don't know anymore.
"I have felt similar things before," Fenris admits with a face he usually reserves for the smell of fish.
"What did you do?" I ask genuinely curious. My curiosity pacifying my crazed thoughts for the moment.
"I drank. A lot." He gives me a strange look, crosses his arms, and paces a few steps forward and then returns to my side.
I see the hurt in his stance. In his face. Even in the little lines on the outer edges of his lips. In the wake of his pain, my pain fades, and I reach out to him. He doesn't flinch like I thought he would. And when my hand rests just above his elbow, I feel a wall breaking, but I don't know if it's his or mine. Maybe both.
"Who?" I whisper to him with the tenderness of who I once was surfacing once again.
"Hawke," he says almost too quiet for me to hear.
My mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, and he bends his head to hide behind the curtain of his hair. I realize just a moment before he starts speaking again, that he must trust me. "I... left her. Three years ago. It was... It was the most difficult thing I've ever done. But it had to be done."
I feel myself involuntarily shuffle closer to him. My hand tightens just a little on his arm, and I try to ask gently, "Why?"
He lifts his head, his green eyes bore into mine, and he says with a ferocity of a caged animal finally being let loose after years of capture, "I was not free. Danarius still hunted me. A slave cannot have something like that. I would have hurt her had I stayed."
I'm shocked and blink in rapid succession. He's right, I realize. He speaks the truth of the matter. And they way he said it, it must have been a burden he'd been wanting to shed for some time. "You're free now," I say, and do not know if it is a statement or a question. He nods once, just slightly. "Is that why you stayed?" He tilts his head a little, his confusion evident on his face. I clarify, "Is that why you stayed then, at the Gallows? Is that why you stayed even though she has... another?"
He bows his head behind his hair once again, and instead of answering my question, he amends one of his prior statements, "You are different than the others." He takes a step back and raises his head. Whatever expression he had hidden is now gone. "I suspect my reason is the same as your Templar's. Why he stayed."
The elf leaves my side, and my mouth is hanging open again. My mind is a confusing storm of thoughts and I struggle for clarity. Why did Cullen stay behind? Why did Fenris stay beside Marian?
…...
I'm not able to focus much for the rest of the day. Things go by in a blur. I heal a sod's rope burns, I try to have a conversation with Merrill, and I eat my meals in relative silence. Now that I know the reason why Marian chose to protect the mages, because of me, I find myself at a loss for everyone else's reasons. Were they all so loyal to my sister?
Isabela's reason is easy, as it's obvious to see that she loves my sister and would do anything in her power for her. Aveline, bless her and Donnic for staying in Kirkwall, is like our older sister and would always do her best to keep her people alive. Varric is one of our oldest friends, although he probably stayed for the story. Merrill would be lost without Marian's guidance. Anders would be dead if she didn't tell him to flee. And the other man, one who I'd only met once before – Sebastian, I think his name was – was just wrong. What he said, what he did, was wrong.
My mind goes back to Fenris and Cullen. Cullen, he, well, we loved each other. And that man's loyalty... I know he's doing his damnedest to make sure the madness is stopped. And we said our goodbyes. We knew it had to end, but I had hoped it wouldn't.
Fenris now, he had said his reasons were the same as Cullen's. Did he stay beside Marian for love? Or loyalty? I feel as though I have to know. That elf... Something happened between us. I'm not sure what exactly, but it was powerful whatever it was.
I go in search of him. I need to speak to Fenris, so I walk in the direction of his closet-sized cabin. All the private rooms aboard are closet-sized, except for the captain's quarters, but Isabela tried to make things easier for us, and gifted us even this modest luxury.
I knock on his door and hear a gruff, "Yes?" in answer. "It's Bethany," I say and try to keep my voice down so I won't disturb anyone else.
I hear shuffling and the sound of something moving, "You may enter."
I open the door, and it is dim. As my eyes focus and I close the door, I notice the faint illumination of his lyrium tattoos that beat in time with his heart. Their glow is hardly noticeable in the daylight. And I wonder if they glow all the time, or if their glow is indicative of the slight irritation that is on his face.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you," I say, and my gaze goes to the bottle of lemon and cinnamon infused rum in his grasp, "But I wanted to talk?" I phrase it as a question.
He nods and gestures to the foot of his bed, and he rises further up to rest his back against the wall. There are no other seats in these cabins.
I carefully sit on the bed's edge and fold my fingers together in my lap. "Did you..." I clear my throat and start again, "Did you say with Marian for... for love? Or loyalty?"
He takes a pull from his rum and sighs heavily. He doesn't meet my eyes as he says, "If things were... different, I may have claimed love." He raises his eyes and meets my gaze tentatively, "Though now it... I am loyal to Hawke. I owe her much. My freedom. My life. I am bound to her. But not... She is my friend. I would not see her harmed."
I frown as I hear his answer, and stare at my hands in my lap. He thinks he's said something wrong. "Have I... not answered satisfactorily?"
I shake my head at him, "You had said that you and Cullen shared the same reasons for your actions at the Gallows..." I trail off and am silent for a moment. He doesn't interrupt the quiet, and I begin again after a short time. "He chose his loyalty to the Templars over his love for me," I say in a quiet voice.
I see Fenris frown out of the corner of my eye, "I said I suspected our reasons were the same. He could have chosen to stay to protect you."
I shake my head again, and turn my focus towards the elf, "Don't try to change what you said. It's all true." My hands unfurl in my lap, and slowly curl into fists as I continue. "My sister chose to protect me. My sister chose her love for me over her loyalty to Kirkwall. But not Cullen. Not the man that claimed to love me..." I trail off again.
The silence stretches for some time, and I take a deep pull of the rum when Fenris offers the bottle to me. I don't usually drink much alcohol, a drunk apostate isn't necessarily a smart thing, and so the searing burn of it shocks me. I take another drink and it doesn't burn as much.
When Fenris takes the bottle back from me, he says, "Relationships of this kind are... difficult."
I snort, he definitely likes to state the obvious, and reply, "Things could be simpler."
I see him quirk a brow at me as he drinks some rum before he says, "Simpler as in... ignoring love and loyalty?" He takes another drink and pierces me with a heavy gaze as he does so. His eyes are captivating. As he slowly pulls the bottle away from his lips, his tongue darts out to gather any stray droplets of rum. No, I think, his lips are. He starts speaking again, and my gaze returns to his green orbs illuminated just slightly by his ever pulsing lyrium markings. "That only leaves desire," he rumbles in a voice that makes my toes curl in my boots.
Realization dawns on my slightly fuzzy and out-of-sorts mind. Fenris is offering me something here. But do I trust him? He's a magic hating, prejudiced, former slave of a Tevinter magister. And I a mage, apostate, Enchanter, and coursing with magic from head-to-toe. I reach out to take the rum bottle from his grasp, and his fingers deliberately brush against mine. I remember then that I know that he must trust me. And... and I do. I trust him with this. With helping me understand. Understand what happened at the Gallows. With understanding Marian and Cullen. I trust him.
"Desire could be what I need."
