Two Sisters
9:30 Dragon: Korcari Wilds
Bethany couldn't take her eyes off the witch.
She had wanted to rest of course, but sleep just wouldn't come. The magic in her blood seemed to respond more and more strongly in the witch's presence. It felt like she being drawn like a moth to a flame. The others could not feel it. Only she, with her blighted magic could feel the pull. She wanted to confront the witch. Ask her what was happening? Of course, running away sounded like a good idea too, and that was something all too familiar to her.
It felt like they had been running her whole life. First it had been from the Templars who would have ripped Father and her from their family and locked them away in the circle of magi. Then it had been fear, after Father died Bethany had felt so lost without his guidance. Would she be able to resist the temptation that all mages faced, or would she fall into darkness, a slave of demonic influences. The threat of true monsters threatening her family never ended her young mind.
It was hard to believe that only a few days ago she had been studying father's old books, while Mother napped in her bedroom and the stew boiled in their old cook pot. Her older sister Marian and Bethany's twin brother Carver had left for the ruins of Ostagar weeks ago to aid the King's army in stopping the Blight. Oh, Mother had wept as her two little soldiers had marched off to war. Bethany had tried to be brave praying that the Maker would watch over them.
News had trickled slowly from the south, but victory seemed assured after several small skirmishes. It seemed that the Kings army, along with the Grey Wardens would end the darkspawn threat before it ever began.
Then a week ago Marian and Carver had crashed through the door of their home bringing horrific news. The army had been defeated at Ostagar. Teyrn Loghain, the King's most trusted General, blamed the wardens but both Marian and Carver had been there when the Teyrn had ordered the retreat. Neither believed that he had pulled them back out of a desire to preserve their lives. They deserted as soon as they reached Lothering. Now they were on the run again, not from Templars or Loghain's men but monsters from the darkest pit.
Darkspawn.
Bethany shuddered; those horrible creatures would likely haunt her dreams for the rest of her days. They destroyed everything that the Hawke family had built over the last ten years. The life they had built for themselves in Lothering, any future they may have had was now gone and even that had not been enough. They had to take a piece of Bethany's soul as well.
Carver.
The witch had led them into a small clearing deep within the Korcari Wilds to a place where they could rest, safe from the darkspawn. Marian gathered enough brush and twigs to start a small fire. Both Mother and Bethany had fretted that the light might alert the darkspawn of their presence, but the witch assured them of their safety. "My magic protects you now," the witch purred, "you are in no danger." She left them then choosing to stand away from their little party, barely visible in the firelight.
Mother had cried herself to sleep tonight, her heart broken over the loss of her only son. Marian, usually the first to lighten the mood with one glib response, or another remained silent. Finally, she passed out using her war hound Jester as a pillow.
That red haired woman they had saved, Aveline, insisted on taking the first watch despite her own exhaustion. The loss of her Templar husband had hit her extremely hard. Bethany shook her head. She had never expected to mourn the loss of a Templar. Yet, her heart ached at Aveline's suffering. Now the woman refused to rest, she said she needed to do something anything to keep her mind occupied.
Bethany felt pity for her, but after watching her twin brother die like that... It had been hard enough to lose father to the wasting disease. For Carver to die trying to save Mother, it wasn't fair. As for the witch, well …
She kept her own council.
When the woman calling herself Flemeth had saved them three days ago it had seemed too good to be true. They had still been in shock then. Carver lay dead at their feet while the darkspawn swarmed them. When the high dragon had swooped out of the sky and saved them from the darkspawn, no one could believe their eyes. Then the creature had turned into an old woman clad in black leather armor with a crown across her brow. She had offered to guide them past the worst of the darkspawn horde, all in exchange for delivering her amulet to a group of elves outside of the city of Kirkwall. Marian had tried to make light of the whole affair, with one sarcastic comment after another, but Bethany knew her sister well enough to know the truth.
The old woman scared her big sister.
Now the witch stood with her back to them staring off into the distance. The sky to the north had a red and orange hue, but this light was not the prelude to dawn. It was a sign of death. The darkspawn horde advanced burning and killing everything in its wake. Lothering was gone, was the rest of Ferelden soon to follow?
Did the witch care? They had been on the run for days, and the witch did not seem to tire. Bethany had not even seen the woman sleep. Didn't she need to sleep? Did such a woman even require sleep?
So now Bethany watched the old woman. As an apostate, Bethany assumed that Father had taught her everything there was to know about magic. Eighteen years of life had been geared to prepare her for a life on the run, and Father had trained her well. As a little girl she had believed that Father, having travelled all over Thedas in his youth, knew everything. Now she understood after travelling in the witch's company how wrong she had been.
The witch felt wrong. Bethany could feel the ebb and flow of magic around her, but the witch was something far different. It felt like she was glimpsing the woman through a heavy veil. As if the old woman was hiding just how powerful she truly was. It was a frightening thought.
It was also too intriguing to pass up.
Bethany rose from where she had been resting. She needed to speak with the witch. She was quiet so not to disturb Mother or Marian. Mustering her courage she silently approached the old woman.
The witch had said nothing to her before this point. Speaking only with Marian, and even then keeping her answers short. Bethany hoped to convince her to converse with her one Mage to another. She paused before the witch taking on final deep breath before she began.
The witch spoke first, making her jump, "is there a problem child?'
"No milady," Bethany stammered her courage lost in the face of the witch's attention. Despite the fact that old woman had not turned to face her.
"Milady?" the witch chuckled, "it had been a long time since someone called old Flemeth milady child."
"Merely trying to be respectful." Bethany added.
The witch considered her words, "Respecting a power greater than yours is wise child, but do not underestimate your own abilities as well. Your sister does that better than most I think."
"Marian is dealing with everything the only way she knows how."
"Is She?" Flemeth asked musing to herself, "the power to shake world at her fingertips and she chooses to hide behind humor." The witch scoffed, shaking her head, "Disappointing."
The witch's words made Bethany shiver. The old woman had made this prophecy about the world and her sister when they had first met. The words had confused Marian at the time, but with each night Bethany began to see how her sister had begun to dread what they might mean.
Into the chaos you fight, and the world will shake before you.
"And what of you, child?" the witch asked tilting her head slightly.
"Me?"
"Yes," the witch said, turning turning her amber-eyed gaze on Bethany for the first time. The young apostate trembled under that ageless scrutiny. Power that was old when the world was still young seemed to be directed squarely at her. "Where do you figure into all this?"
"I …" Bethany stammered, "I'm no one special. I'm just my Mother's daughter. My sister's sister. "
"And an apostate Mage." The witch added, "And maybe something more."
"I'm not sure what you mean."
The witch smiled at her then. It was a wicked thing to behold on the old woman's face. Like a timeless predator noticing a tasty treat. Bethany wished she'd never came here. She wished she were back lying near Mother. Anywhere but under the witch's amber gaze. She felt small. She was just a simple dark haired farm girl with just a bit of magical talent. She was not her father Malcolm Hawke or even her sister Marian. She was just Bethany Hawke, an Apostate girl from Lothering.
It was only after the witch's regard had seemed to lay her soul bare that the old woman deemed it necessary to speak to her again.
"Two sisters," the witch began, "bound in blood but separated by choice and duty. One destined to sacrifice. The other to suffer." The witch's smile widened at Bethany's shocked reaction. What was this? Another prophecy?
Bethany turned. She wanted to get away. She wanted to flee back to the safety of her family, to those she loved. The witch stopped her with a single sentence.
"They won't be able to protect you," Flemeth sneered, "Your magic will become a millstone around their necks. They will come to hate and discard you."
"They won't," Bethany said shaking her head, refusing to even glance in the witch's direction, "they love me."
"Love is fleeting girl," the witch's voice dripped with scorn, "it has no meaning."
Bethany paused, not wanting to look at the old woman "And what does then?"
"Power." The witch hissed excitedly, "power and survival. If you wish to survive in Kirkwall you will need to become more powerful, even if it means turning away from those who claim to care about you."
"No," Bethany said shaking her head, she turned to face the old woman "I would never betray my family for the sake of my own survival. Never. "
"Then you may fall. While your sister rises."
"My sister would never betray me either."
"Really," the witch snickered, "time and destiny will tell."
Bethany's temper flared, anger flashed in her eyes. How dare this … whatever she was, accuse her sister? Marian had done everything she could to protect their family. She would never betray what Father had taught her. Family always comes first.
"You don't know us." Bethany growled, after everything that had happened in the last few days her nerves felt strained, "We're stronger than you think."
"Are you?" Flemeth smirked.
"We will make it to Kirkwall. We will survive this. I'll find a way to avoid the Templars."
"You will face more than Templars in Kirkwall dear girl. A world of trials and temptations, you will be tested. Your sister is ready. She has already cast away one brother, would a sister be that much harder?"
Bethany's nerves snapped.
"HOW DARE YOU!"
Fire began to form in the young apostate's hands. Fear was forgotten. Maker she had never been so angry. All she wanted was to wipe the smirk off the witch's face. Though what could she do? She could throw a fireball or two or chill someone to the bone, but against someone, something that could change into a dragon. What could little Bethany Hawke do?
Flemeth seemed more amused than afraid. She could surely see that this little girl was no real threat; which only served to anger Bethany more.
The witch regarded her coolly her amber eyes sparkling in the fire light. "Are you going to attack me child?"
Bethany tried to reign in her anger like Father had taught her, but it was hard. She wanted to lash out at the witch give into the base desire to sate her anger.
Always strive for what is best in you my daughter, not which is most base.
Father's words rang in her mind. She knew the witch was baiting her for some reason. She did not know why, and it did not matter. She would not let the witch drag her into a battle she could not win.
"No," she said coldly, dismissing the flames from her hands "I'm not strong enough, at least … not today."
The witch laughed loudly, "Yes, dear girl that is what I was looking for." Flemeth's smile radiated satisfaction, "the present may belong to your sister, but the future …"
"Bethany? Bethany! Sweetheart where are you?"
Mother's panicked words pulled her back from the brink. She did not know what the witch wanted. Nor did she care. She was Malcolm and Leandra Hawke's daughter. She would not be some pawn in the witch's game.
"We will deliver your amulet," Bethany promised, "but we won't be your puppets."
"Bethany!"
"I'm here Mother." Bethany called back, casting one final glare at the witch. Curiosity was sated, now she needed to return to those she loved.
Her Mother's cries had awakened the camp as she ran to her youngest child.
"Oh, Bethany!" Mother sobbed embracing the young girl, "I had a horrible nightmare! I thought I lost you too!"
"I'm fine Mother." She said trying to reassure her near hysterical parent, "I went to speak with the witch that's all."
"Stay away from her sweetheart," her mother cautioned, tears glistening in her eyes, "such a person is not to be trifled with. I can't lose you. Not after …"
"I won't Mother," Bethany smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry I scared you. Let's try and get some rest, yes? We have a long journey ahead of us tomorrow."
Bethany led her Mother back towards the fire. Marian regarded them groggily before settling back down. Aveline returned to her watch while Marian lay back down, stroking her war hound's coarse fur.
The witch returned to her silent vigil. Again, Bethany Hawke felt her eyes drawn to the dark figure.
Flemeth chuckled to herself. It was strange, the twists and turns of destiny. These girls, the wardens, the missionary's son, even the Templar all were moving towards the future. Who would reach it first she wondered.
"Suffer or sacrifice," the witch murmured, her eyes falling on the flames of destruction in the distance. "Suffer or sacrifice."
