Bethany
Chapter 1: The Blight Took It All
The small clearing edging on the Wilds was still and silent.
Bethany frowned in concentration. Reaching out with her senses, she could feel her sister's magic humming in a protective shell over the wooden dummy, chilling the air and stopping her from igniting the target.
A bead of sweat rolled down her temple. Lighting a fire from afar against a protected target was a lot harder than she thought, especially when she had to do it without her staff.
"Come on, you can do it." Marian said with a lazy grin on her face.
Bethany's fingers twitched into a fist as she visualized her fire smashing through her sister's ice. The result was a loud bang as the dummy tipped backward in three pieces.
Letting out a startled yelp, Bethany tripped and landed on her butt.
Marian wouldn't stop laughing. Bethany joined in. She hadn't hear her sister laugh since Father died.
"You almost got it," Marin said as she offered a hand to help her up. "A little more power, and the whole thing should go up in flame. Are you alright?"
Her sister's warm voice reminded her strongly of Father. Pushing away her stray thought, Bethany got up and asked, "I'm fine. But why did the dummy blow up?"
Marian shrugged. "No idea. It happens when the fire is almost strong enough to overcome the ice." Her face fell. "Father would know."
Bethany bit her lower lip. The urge to cry was back, but she refused to give in to the childish impulse. Not in front of Marian, she told herself. Between Mother and Carver, her sister had had enough to worry about. Mother was a complete wreck. Carver was an angry boy, blindly lashing out at Marian because he didn't know how to contain his own grief. Not that she blamed him. He was only sixteen.
It had scarcely been a week since they scattered their father's ashes, and already Bethany could see their family falling apart, if not for Marian holding them all together.
"Let's go home. I promised Carver I would spar with him today." Marian said.
"Again? But we've been casting all morning already. How you could have the energy to cross blades with him after the workout we had, I'll never understand." Bethany frowned at her sister in concern.
Marian shrugged again. "That's what father would have done."
Bethany had nothing to say to that.
Not that it really mattered, as it turned out.
Try as she might, Marian was never going to fill the space that their father had previously occupied. Carver joined the Lothering town guard not a month after Father's ashes were in the winds. Bethany didn't like it, but she empathized. The youngest Hawke in the family must have felt the need to be the man and play the role of their protector. Unlike herself, who was immeasurably grateful for their older sister's care in their father's absence, her twin was chafing under Marian's shadow.
Marian, Maker bless her forgiving heart, did not let Carver's rebellious streak bother her, and stoically picked up where their father had left off without a word of complaint. The oldest Hawke began taking jobs from the chanter's board to make coin for the family. Most of the time Marian would be out of town, fighting bandits and culling wolves with her trusty mabari hound, Doggo. She would come home, tired and limping and splattered in blood. No amount of begging from either Mother or herself would make her stop.
Bethany knew that it wasn't only jobs posted on the chanter's board that Marian was taking. Her sister must have killed people that weren't simple bandits. She could guarantee there were a few corpses lying in shallow graves in the Wilds that were clad in Templar plates.
That would also explain why Marian had become so scarily good with daggers despite being a mage. Templars were not trained to dodge knives that could slip in the joints of heavy armor.
With her siblings out of the house most of the time, Mother clung to her like a lifeline. In some way, it was astounding how similar they were. Family meant so much to them both, it was mind boggling to Bethany how much Mother must have loved Father to leave it all behind.
Their new lives without Father settled into a different routine. The grief was still there, but it wasn't crushing after some time. Years passed, all was peaceful, boring even, that the most exciting news in town was the presence of a new lay sister in the chantry. According to Carver, Sister Leliana was a beautiful redhead with the voice of a nightingale. After meeting the Sister for the first time in the chantry's meditation room, Bethany found herself agreeing with her brother for once.
Her only other interaction with the Sister was actually not much of an interaction at all. Bethany had passed by elder Mirim's place on an errand and overheard the Sister telling stories to a bunch of enraptured children. She found herself standing there, enthralled, and at the end, clapping along with the young audience. Sister Leliana had looked up and gave her a bright smile that sent her blushing and scurrying away.
Bethany would forever regret taking this idyllic peace for granted.
The summer of her eighteenth year was blistering and uncommonly dry. The minor drought drove hungry wolves out of the Wilds in search of more food. Several bounties had been posted on the chanter's board to cull the wolves, and guards had been patrolling the edge of the town to eliminate those starving beasts that would brave a settlement. Nothing they did seem to be enough to completely deter those animals.
She shouldn't have gone alone. Why did she not wait until Marian was home to go prancing about the woods? Surely skiving off magic practice for a few days would not hurt anyone. A small lapse in judgement was all it took for Bethany's world to come crashing down around her ears.
Crying out in pain, Bethany futilely tried to pry open the metal jaws of the claw trap digging into her ankle, but all she had accomplished was smearing the blood around, the coppery scent hanging heavy in the air.
And then she saw eyes glowing in the trees around her. Of course. The trap was meant for wolves.
Bethany had no choice. She let her magic loose before those starving beasts rip out her throat.
It was too close to town. People saw. Bethany didn't resist when the Templars came. Ser Bryant was kind enough to let her say goodbye to her mother before they tore her from her family forever.
Lake Calenhad was beautiful. So was the Circle Tower. But they were nothing but a gilded cage all the same. Marian would do poorly if she were in her place. This was the reason why Bethany did not resist. For once, she was going to be Marian's protector. Her sister was good with blades. No one would suspect if they didn't look too closely, and Bethany was not going to give them any reasons to.
They put her through the harrowing the very night she arrived at the Tower. Bethany was almost amused by their show of caution. She might be young and foolish, but she was not weak. Her father and her sister had not trained her to be weak. Her magic would serve that which was best in her, not that which was most base.
Bethany passed her harrowing without trouble. Ser Cullen looked offended that an apostate had performed so well, better than most Circle trained apprentices, even. She wondered if he would prefer to cut her down with that shiny sword of his as a matter of principle, demon possessed or not.
On some level, it was a relief to not having to hide. Magic was a part of her. In a sense, she was finally able to be true to herself.
Now a full fledged Enchanter, Bethany was supposed to take on apprentices, young as she was. When asked, she declined the offer, citing her inexperience and youth. Instead, Bethany spent an inordinate amount of time in the Circle's massive library, absorbing all the arcane knowledge like a sponge. Living as an apostate did not come with the privilege of free access to priceless arcane tomes as Circle mages did. Bethany was determined to make the most of her situation.
They assigned her under the supervision of a kindly faced Senior Enchanter, Wynne. Her new mentor was very skilled in creation magic, which she herself had little to no talent for. Nonetheless, Wynne was a patient and dedicated teacher, and she was knowledgeable in many areas other than healing. Her mentor was a poor substitute for her mother, but Bethany was grateful for Wynne's care.
She made friends, too. Mage friends that she could discuss magic with. It was a balm to sooth the ache of being separated from her siblings. Neria was bubbly and cheerful; she reminded her of Carver's not-so-secret girlfriend Peaches. Finn was scatter-brained but frighteningly intelligent. Godwin was goofy and a great laugh, like her best friend Elena back in Lothering. And Daylen was family.
Daylen Amell. The Maker must had a wicked sense of humor. Who thought she would find family again after being hauled off in chains? First cousin, once removed, but still family. Her mother's next few letters were peppered with stories about Daylen's mother, Revka Amell, and about the Amell estate in Kirkwall. Daylen devoured those letters like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.
Her cousin reminded her a lot of her father. They looked nothing alike, but they carried themselves with the same air of competence and grace. Father was more stern, but the two of them were equally kind. Some days Bethany would daydream what life would have been like growing up with Daylen as her older brother and having their entire family together. They would have been so happy.
A year crawled by agonizingly slowly. Being locked up in one place put her into perspective how free her previous life was. She prayed to the Maker every day that He would keep her family safe and her sister free from incarceration.
But the uncaring Maker was as generous as He was cruel. What little happiness Bethany had found in the Tower was again stolen from her. Daylen was kind, and his kindness was abused in the worse way possible - betrayal by his best friend. Bethany would never forgive that weasel Jowan. If not for the Grey Warden Duncan, Daylen would have been executed by the Templars for aiding a blood mage.
Daylen's conscription was merely the first stab that would cut her heart to pieces. The next day, Bethany received a tear stained letter from her mother that Carver had volunteered for King Cailan's army at Ostagar to fight the darkspawn. Marian had went with Carver at Mother's behest to keep her reckless little brother safe.
Safe? How was one person going to keep another safe amidst the chaos of the battlefield? If Marian had slipped up and used magic in combat, her free-spirited sister was going to be locked up and doomed to waste away in captivity. What was her mother thinking?! And no one was fooled by the real reason why Carver joined the army. It had nothing to do with serving Ferelden or fighting darkspawn. He wanted the glory, and now Marian was going to pay for it.
The rotten cherry on top of this steaming pile of ill news was that her best friend Elena's entire family was butchered by a crazed Qunari. This murderous savage was quickly apprehended, but it was too little, too late. Bethany wished the monster got what it deserved.
Wynne didn't get the chance to console her in Daylen's absence. She and most of the Senior Enchanters in the Tower were summoned to Ostagar to supplement Cailan's army as well. Mages were always needed to combat the Blight.
Only half of them made it back. Those who were fortunate enough to come back alive were defeated, angry, and frightened. King Cailan's army was lost. The darkspawn had overrun the South Reach. Lothering was in flames. Marian, Carver, Mother, Daylen. Her entire family, gone.
Bethany cried and screamed the whole night, and for once it wasn't because she was plagued by demons. Neira had to stay with her at all times so she wouldn't do anything stupid. Apparently suicide was epidemic in the Tower. It was a known issue that the Templars were perfectly content to leave be.
But Bethany was a Hawke, and a Hawke was not weak. Eventually she managed to pull herself together. Hollow, joyless, and much reduced, yet still alive. A small part of her wished that the Templars had made her Tranquil in the first place so she wouldn't have to feel all this pain now.
Pain and fear. There was so much fear. Godwin had tried to cheer her up by saying that the Tower was the safest place to be during a Blight. How very wrong he was. One day out of the blue, Uldred and his blood mages decided to take over the Tower in a coup for reasons Bethany could not fathom.
The Templars didn't bother distinguishing Uldred's ilks and those who wanted nothing to do with blood magic. Neira. Sweet, witty, harmless Neira was mercilessly cut down for no reason other than a quirk of birth that had marked her as a mage. Wynne had tried to heal her, but the blade had run through Neira's heart. The little elf girl had died confused as to why the Templars would want to hurt their charges.
The rest of the mages barricaded themselves from both Uldred's demons and the Templars alike. From where Bethany stood, there were little differences between those two.
They held on for days. They guarded the doors at all hours and slept in shifts. Food and water was running low, and those with enough proficiency to hold the barriers were almost dead on their feet. A few of them were arguing the merit of jumping out of the windows and swimming to safety when hope arrived.
Daylen was back, and her cousin had brought in the chevaliers. Maybe chevaliers was a strong word. A motley crew was a more apt description. His companions consisted of a handsome blond in heavy plates, a redheaded female archer in leather, a scantily clad woman with startling golden eyes, a sullen Qunari sporting sawed off horn stubs on his head, and a grinning mabari hound painted in kaddis.
Bethany was not ashamed to admit that she did use Daylen's robe to wipe her nose while she sobbed like a baby. Her cousin was magnanimous enough to not make disgusted sounds at her unseemly behavior. Some of his companions were not as gracious. "I thought you were d...dead. I thought you were all dead!"
"Control yourself, girl. 'Tis most undignified." Said the woman with the most exotic eyes Bethany had ever seen. She was stunningly beautiful, although the look of disgust marred the perfect features the Maker had blessed her with.
Bethany reluctantly let go of Daylen. "I thought all the Wardens died in Ostagar." Tears welled up in her eyes. It was impossible to hold herself back once the floodgate was open. "The Templars killed Neira. I don't know where Godwin and Finn are. Marian and Carver were in King Cailan's army. And Mother was all by herself in Lothering… I… I thought the Blight had took you all!"
"Hey, I'm still here. You are not alone." Daylen said, and Bethany desperately wanted to believe him.
"We can talk later, child." Wynne patted her on the shoulder. "We need to find the First Enchanter post haste. Irving is the only one who can stop Ser Greagoir from invoking the Right of Annulment."
"I'm coming, too." Bethany said before Wynne could tell her otherwise. "You can't refuse another friendly staff between you and a horde of demons."
"But…"
"Let the girl come if she wants." The woman with the golden eyes interrupted Daylen's objection. "She does not seem completely hopeless with a staff."
"Um, thanks, I guess?" Bethany wasn't sure if that counted as a compliment. Her eyebrows raised with surprise when she noticed the staff strapped to the stranger's back. An apostate, perhaps? Her clothes looked Chasind.
"Bethany Hawke?" Said the archer, who was inspecting her face intently for some reason.
Bethany frowned at the redhead. She would swear she had seen this shade of red before… "Sister Leliana?!" The chantry Sister was almost unrecognizable in leather armor.
Leliana smiled widely at her. "So it is you. It's been a while." The smile on her face faded abruptly when she realized her mistake. "I'm sorry about Ostagar. And Lothering. I bade Leandra to flee north before I left with the Wardens. She refused. She was waiting for your brother and sister to come home. I'm truly very sorry, Bethany."
Bethany nodded numbly. She had not dared to hold out hope when she first heard of the fate of Lothering. Leliana's confirmation was simply the last nail in the coffin.
While scouring the Tower for survivors, they found Godwin hiding in a closet. Ironic, really, considering he had never been shy about bedding every male with a pulse and then bragging about it in the most inappropriate ways. They didn't find Finn. Instead, they found demons and abominations in the library. Bethany didn't want to know if he had been one of those monsters they had to put down.
They trudged through the demon infested Tower, killing everything in their way, and finally made it to the top floor. Bethany didn't remember much what happened after that. It was so hard to focus, to think. She had been so tired.
And then she found herself sitting on a wolf pelt by the fireplace, leaning her head to her father's knees. Father was humming to himself while daftly carving a block of wood to the shape of a bear. Marian and Mother were reading letters in the kitchen, chatting merrily about the good news they had received from their relatives in Kirkwall. Carver and Daylen were playing cards at the dinner table, the two of them were laughing and teasing each others like brothers.
The warm scent of sandalwood was making her drowsy. Bethany felt her eyelids droop, just as the feeling of contentment loosened the knot in her chest.
Family. This was all she ever wanted. She wanted this moment to last forever before…
Before it was taken away again.
Bethany despaired. The illusion of her perfect happiness wavered for an eyeblink, yet it was enough to break the spell. How many times had she been tempted by demons with this exact same empty promise? Her deepest desire was an impossibility that not even the Maker could grant.
"Bethany?" Another Daylen, not the one sitting at the dinner table, called out. He looked around the fabricated illusion wistfully before taking a tentative step towards her. "Please, Bethany. You need to focus. This is not real."
"I know." Bethany said quietly.
"You know?"
Bethany shrugged. "This is not the first time I'm seeing this in the Fade."
They walked away from her fantasy to face the Sloth demon that was the cause of this cruel make-believe. Bethany especially relished the demon's screams when she set its ugly face on fire.
x-x-x
First Enchanter Irving pledged the Circle's support to aid the Wardens after they saved the mages from the idiotic Right of Annulment. Ser Greagoir didn't volunteer the Templars to the Wardens, but he did allow them to hitch a ride on the Templar's supply ship to hasten their journey to Redcliffe.
Bethany decided she didn't like to travel by boat.
To distract herself from the nauseating journey, she chatted with her travel companions to catch up on what had happened since Ostagar. It was a tale so unbelievable, it had to be true.
"A dragon swoop down and rescued you and my cousin from a swarm of darkspawn." Bethany repeated in disbelief.
"Yup. And then Morrigan and her dear old mother, Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds, healed us back to health. Batty, that one." Alistair confirmed.
Bethany wasn't sure if Alistair was referring to Morrigan or her mother. Likely both. "I suppose it would be too much to hope that a dragon would swoop down and rescue the rest of my family from darkspawn for the second time."
Alistair grimaced at her attempt at humor. "That would be extremely unlikely."
"How about the mabari?" Bethany asked.
"Barkspawn showed up after we left the Wilds. I think he likes Daylen. Or maybe he likes the cheese we feed him." Alistair said, scratching the mabari hound behind its ears.
Bethany shook her head at the name. Barkspawn. Lovely name. Almost as bad as Doggo. She hoped at least her family pet was able to outrun the Blight.
Leliana continued the story. "The Wardens came through Lothering and I decided to join their noble quest to end the Blight. It came to me in a vision - such is the will of the Maker."
Bethany was envious of Leliana's faith. After so much had happened, she no longer believed the Maker had any interest in the mortal realm.
"Bodahn and Sandal joined up when we left Lothering. Safety in numbers and all." Leliana added.
"Enchantment!" Sandal squealed in excitement. Bethany couldn't help but smile indulgently at the simple-minded dwarf boy.
Still, there was a Qunari on the deck that no one seemed to want to explain. Looking at the direction where Sten was sitting with Daylen a conclusion was forming in her mind. Bethany had been thinking about it for a while, and she had a feeling she wouldn't like the answer.
Leliana followed her gaze and answered her unspoken question. "Sten had pledged to aid the Wardens as penance to his crime. We found him in a standing cage by the chantry in Lothering. He had been sentenced to death by the Revered Mother because he…"
"... slaughtered my best friend's family - men, women, children and all. They were simple farmers." Bethany finished Leliana's sentence for her. "I need to... be away from here." She stood up and stalked away, creating as much distance between herself and the Qunari as physically possible while aboard a boat.
The same topic was never brought up again in Bethany's presence.
Redcliffe greeted them in a wave of quiet despair. Arl Teagan looked ready to collapse in relief when he saw the Wardens brought with them a group of well-armed fighters. Bethany only understood his feeling too well.
The stir of the undead could only be attributed to the work of foul magic. The Veil was not torn in the village, so the source of this evil must be coming from the nearby castle. They would need to live through the night before they could move on to the castle to investigate. Sadly, the local militia consisted mostly of dockhands and fishermen. A handful of Redcliffe knights were present but they alone could not hold back the waves of undead. Truth be told, Bethany was not looking forward to nightfall. Regardless what they do, a lot of people were going to get hurt.
After some trials and errors, Bethany concluded that raining fire down on the undead seemed to be the most effective way to destroy the necromantic magic animating the corpses. She had always preferred fire, but by the Maker, the smell was revolting.
With the additional firepower of four mages on their side, the villagers pulled through without suffering too many casualties. Daylen's clever glyph placement made him a master at controlling the battlefield. Wynne's healing magic was invaluable at saving lives. Morrigan's ice and her own fire was a deadly combination that her father would have approved of.
After a short rest, they snuck through the secret passage Arl Teagan had disclosed and ended up in the castle dungeon. In one of the cells, they found the cause of Redcliffe's woe.
Jowan the traitor. The escaped blood mage had freely admitted poisoning Arl Eamon on Teyrn Loghain's order, but denied vehemently at the accusation of summoning the undead. This led to the only unwelcome conclusion that Arl Eamon's only son, Connor, was responsible for the whole mess. Stone Faced, Daylen dragged his former best friend out of the cell in chains and made him fix his own mistake.
An untrained mage child, one who was raised to inherit the responsibility of caring for his father's Arling, had caused the death of so many of his future subjects. Bethany couldn't decide whether she should be more upset with Jowan or Lady Isolde. If Jowan had not poisoned the Arl, Connor wouldn't have been so upset that he made a deal with a demon to keep his father alive. If Arlessa had sought help instead of trying to bury the problem as soon as Connor showed signs of possession, all those deaths could have been avoided.
When Jowan suggested using blood magic to save Connor from possession, and Isolde was going to go along with this insane idea, Bethany finally snapped. "You lazy toad! Must you tout blood magic as the solution for every problem? Use your head, moron!"
Jowan recoiled from her while Daylen raised an eyebrow at her outburst. Bethany had never raised her voice in front of him before. She didn't raise her voice, in general, but she was just so mad! "There are five fully trained mages in this room. Five! And we have a dozen lyrium potions on hand. That's more than enough power to send one person through the Fade to slay Connor's demon. It's indolent fools like you why people don't trust mages."
"Why yes, tell him what you really think." Alistair added in a low drawl.
Bethany thought she had been quite restrained. If she had said exactly what she thought of him, her mother would have come down from the Maker's side to wash out her mouth.
What Jowan had offered was a life of drawn out torture for Conner; hardly the prize worth sacrificing Isolde for. Possession by demons left an open wound in the boy's soul that would never heal. He was forever a bleeding lamb surrounded by hungry wolves. Every time he went to sleep, he risked waking up an abomination even more so than normal mages would. Remembering how many small statured abominations they had to put down in the Tower, Bethany privately wondered if it would be kinder to end the boy's suffering now.
Morrigan, never one to pull punches, pointed out the hypocrisy in cool detachment. "If the boy weren't the son of an Arl, we would've cut him down like we do to all possessed mages and be done with it."
Her brutal honesty made most people in the room squirm uncomfortably. Morrigan was right, and they couldn't fault her logic because it was apparent she didn't say it out of malice.
Alistair and Leliana both blanched at the witch's suggestion.
"But he is only a child! We can't kill him." Alistair was aghast.
"How many children did we put down in the Tower not two sundowns ago?" Morrigan retorted impatiently.
Alistair looked positively ill. It seemed the dots connected just now. Bethany looked on the Warden in pity.
"No,I forbid it! You will not touch my son!" Isolde was hysterical, understandably so. Her slightly crazed eyes fixed on Morrigan as she begged piteously. "You are a woman also. Were you a mother, will you not move mountains to save your child? Please, there has to be another way."
Morrigan curled her lips in distaste, but she remained silent.
"Daylen, I… can't decide. I will leave it up to you." Alistair said.
Daylen volunteered to be sent into the Fade, without using any blood magic. Her cousin was a good man. Bethany was hardly surprised by his decision.
The ritual lasted the entire afternoon. When Daylen finally came back, tired but triumphant, Bethany was ready to fall on her face in exhaustion. They rested two more days at the castle until all the mages were able to walk upright without tripping over themselves. Meanwhile, Connor was sent to the Tower by Alistair and an escort of grim faced knights on Arl Teagan's order. Although unsatisfied by the compromise, the Arlessa dared not to protest her son's treatment.
Jowan stayed in the dungeon, where traitors belonged.
Isolde's inane rambling about finding the mystical Andraste's sacred ashes to cure the comatose Arl Eamon sailed right by Bethany's head. She could just imagine the scathing remark Marian would have made to the Arlessa's leave of common sense. While we're at it, would you like us to fetch you a baby griffon as a pet? Or would you prefer a couple dragons to pull your carriage?
The Wardens agreed to pay a visit to Brother Genitivi in Denerim, 'though it was obvious they didn't think anything would come of it. Relic hunting could wait, gathering allies to fight the Blight couldn't. After a short debate, the Wardens decided that their next stop would be the Brecilian Forest where several Dalish clans roamed.
This meant passing through the ruin of Lothering on the way.
Bethany felt her heart dropped into her stomach.
x-x-x
Bethany's unease was plain for all to see. Her imagination tormented both her waking hours and her dreams. Lothering had been her home since she was ten. She couldn't decide if she was more afraid to find something or nothing when she visited her childhood home again.
Leliana was similarly affected, albeit to a lesser degree. She had also lost her home when the darkspawn overran Lothering, so she was the one who best understood Bethany's pain. The Sister went out of her way to distract her from her morbid thoughts by telling her stories; legends, folk lores, and fantastic tales that were surely made up on the fly. Bethany was grateful for Leliana's compassion and companionship. It was infinitely better to be lost in Leliana's many stories, rather than inside her head.
Halfway to Lothering, the party was set upon by assassins courtesy of Loghain. Would this menace ever leave the Wardens alone to do their duty? Dealing with the Blight should take priority over any other petty squabble. Despite the differences in number, they soundly thrashed their attackers and captured the leader of the ambush for interrogation. Morrigan kept muttering on about poisoned food after Daylen had spared the assassin's life and let the former Crow tag along their merry band of misfits.
The smooth-talking Antivan was unlike anyone Bethany had met before. If she had thought Godwin was bad, Zevran was ten times worse. Bethany could never forget the look on Wynne's face when the elf commented on her marvelous, magical bosom.
Lothering was a ghost town. The darkspawn horde had not only killed everything in their path, the taint they carried consumed everything they touched. The corruption had seeped into the land, fouling the very soil so that nothing would grow for decades to come. Fire had also broken out at some point, leaving nothing flammable behind. All that remained of this town were withered crops, ashes, charred stone, and the ever present stench of the taint.
Bethany's home was empty. Perhaps her mother had packed all her belongings before she fled, perhaps looters had cleaned the place out instead. It was impossible to tell. Mercifully, there were no bodies. In a dark corner of her mind, Bethany wondered if the darkspawn had consumed those, too.
That night at camp, Leliana held her and sang to her while Bethany silently cried herself to sleep. The next morning, Bethany couldn't meet the Sister's ocean blue eyes without blushing furiously. Leliana had been so supportive and understanding. Bethany knew better than to impose her childish, inappropriate crush on a member of the clergy, so she pulled back to a polite distance. Instead, she sought out Wynne and prompted the Senior Enchanter to teach her more on creation magic, a branch which Bethany had little talent of. After a week of slow progress, Bethany succeeded in healing a papercut for the first time.
Academic failure aside, the change of scenery had served to improve Bethany's mood. The Brecilian Forest was teeming with so much life, it was a welcome change after the bleak scene in Lothering. Curiously, the Veil was thin in this land. Wild magic permeated the air they breathed, energizing and disorienting at the same time. They wandered aimlessly for a solid week before they finally stumbled upon a score of irate Dalish hunters who were ready to turn them all into pincushions for the crime of trespassing. Announcing themselves as the Wardens had lessened the hostility somewhat, but barely just.
Bethany had never met a proper Dalish before, and she didn't know what to make of them. The only thing she was sure of was that they held a dim view of anyone who was not also Dalish. Their aggression towards humans was understandable, given their history, but she couldn't quite grasp their contempt towards city elves.
The Dalish were an odd people, Bethany thought, and she idly wondered whether they would get along well with the dwarves or not. Both races seemed to glorify their past while living their lives as traditions dictated. Too bad Bodahn and Sandal had gone on ahead to Denerim and not here with them to meet the Dalish. It would have been fascinating to see them interact.
Zathrian, the Keeper of the clan, was a powerful mage who was rumored to have lived for hundreds of years. He was quick enough to acknowledge the treaty, yet he was reluctant to offer meaningful aid. The Dalish would have gladly help the Wardens, if only they were in a position to do so, the Keeper had informed them with regret.
Bethany had a funny feeling that this wouldn't be the last time they were given such an excuse.
They were tasked to slay the source of the curse, the leader of the werewolf pack Witherfang, so the Keeper could use the beast's heart to cure afflicted Dalish of lycanthropy. If Marian were here, she would have asked if Andraste's sacred ashes would have worked better.
It sounded like a wild goose chase. Nonetheless, they agreed to help only because there was no other options. They could have tried to find other clans in the forest, but it would have taken too long. The Dalish were nomadic, they were told, quite gleefully she might add, that a few clans had already fled Ferelden at the first sign of the Blight. If they wanted Dalish arms to fight the darkspawn, they had no choice but to venture deeper into the haunted forest in search of more werewolves. Oh, and by the way, try not to get bitten.
Wonderful.
On the plus side, while they were trekking deeper into the forest, Bethany discovered that Morrigan could turn into a bird. A raven, to be precise. The witch would scout ahead without alerting the wildlife inhabiting the forest - a very useful skill to have. Bethany was sorely tempted to ask Morrigan to teach her to be a shapeshifter, but so far she had not worked up the courage to speak to the witch at all. Carver was right to call her a chantry mouse. Marian would have been pestering Morrigan to show her how to shapeshift into a dragon by now.
"You have been staring at Morrigan for a while, cousin." Daylen's voice jolted her out of her daydream. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"
Bethany thought about it for a moment. "Where do you think the masses go when she turns into a bird? I would think she is light as a bird when she assumes the shape of a bird. If she were to retain her weight as a human, she would fall out of the sky. For that matter, what happen to her clothes when she shifts?"
Daylen stared blankly at her before he cracked up in laughter.
Bethany was a little offended by his reaction.
"You know, I can ask her for you."
"Would you?" Bethany asked, eyes shining at the prospect of flying as a real hawk.
"Of course."
Daylen kept his promise and somehow convinced Morrigan to share her knowledge with Bethany. That night at camp, Bethany sat with the apostate by the fire and began her study in the lost art of shapeshifting.
Morrigan was very blunt, but she wasn't nearly as prickly as she acted around Alistair. She was also a surprisingly good teacher. Bethany wouldn't say that in front of Wynne, ever, she wasn't stupid. The witch's approach to magic theory was refreshingly different from what was taught in the Circle. By the third night, Bethany was already able to discern the internal flow of lifeforce between different animals. Wynne was a little miffed to find her pupil getting better result learning hedge magic from an apostate as supposed to learning the noble healing art from a distinguished senior Circle mage.
Speaking of Wynne, they found her first apprentice Aneirin in the forest by sheer coincidence. Unfortunately, there were more than simple apostates hiding in the haunted forest. The mad hermit they ran into turned out to be a deranged maleficar.
Bethany had never been the target of such foul blood magic before, so she no idea what to expect when the maleficar raised his bloody hand and waved it at her face. She could do nothing but scream in agony as the mad man took control of her blood and set it on fire inside her veins.
She woke to many blurry faces looking down on her, each wearing similar anxious expression. Wynne's gentle healing magic tingled around her head, making her want to sneeze.
"Stay still. You have a concussion. Your skull is cracked, and you're bleeding from your ears." Leliana frowned worriedly while using a wet rag to clean the blood off her face.
"What happened?" Bethany asked, her speech was slightly slurred, and she had to hurriedly swallowed back a mouthful of saliva to keep from throwing up.
Morrigan answered in a clipping tone. "Blood control. He could have done much worse than causing pain, if his blood had touched you."
Bethany was afraid to ask what "much worse" would have entailed.
She needn't ask. Morrigan offered that information freely. "The blood mage could have robbed you of your will, making you a slave to do his bidding. You resisted his effort, so he tried to destroy your mind instead. The elf slashed his throat before he could crush your brain."
A shudder rolled down her spine. Bethany convulsed and threw up on Leliana's lap before she passed out again.
When she finally came to, she was alone in the tent the women (less Morrigan) shared. There were voices outside. It was Leliana monologuing to the mabari. Bethany laughed out loud when Leliana spoke of kicking an ankle biter toy dog by mistake, thinking it was a diseased rat.
"Bethany?" Leliana poked her head in to check on her. "How are you feeling?"
The memory of being violently sick all over Leliana's lap rushed back in a tide of shame. Bethany wished the ground would open up beneath her feet and save her from having to face Leliana ever again. "I feel fine now. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to… you know."
Leliana chuckled in good humor. "There is nothing to apologize for. I took no offense. You've given us quite the fright, however. Daylen was besides himself. Wynne had to remind him several times the efficiency of magical healing."
"How long was I out?"
"A couple hours. I took down a buck while you were resting. We will eat well tonight."
The next day, Bethany picked Wynne's brain for ways of fighting off blood magic. The answers she got was more than a little disappointing. Since blood magic was forbidden by the chantry, any studies regarding this branch of magic was non-existent within the Circle. The only wisdom Wynne could impart on this regard was to stay very far away from the maleficarum and/or freeze the bad mages before they could take out a knife.
Morrigan looked decidedly unimpressed by Wynne's answers. This quickly spiraled into a heated argument that required Daylen to mediate. Bethany felt sorry for bringing this topic up in the first place, and was determined to avoid all talks of the Trifecta of Oppression (the Chantry, the Circle, and the Templar Order - Morrigan's words) for the foreseeable future.
Meanwhile, the party was continuously harassed by werewolves, regular wolves, blighted wolves, giant spiders, and homicidal trees. Both the local fauna and flora were doing a fine job being a complete menace. No wonder the xenophobic Dalish picked this charming place as their home.
It became apparent that not all was as it seemed when one of the supposedly mindless savage werewolves spoke, maybe not eloquently, but intelligently. If the Keeper could mislead them about the nature of the beasts, what else could he have lied about?
They disregarded the talking werewolf's warning to keep away and tracked them even deeper into the woods. The elven ruin where the werewolves had made their nest was deep in the heart of the forest. Here the trees were so tall, they only had daylight for about four hours around noon. Travelling by mage fire became a necessity. After spending a few days in the dark, Bethany grew paranoid. Something was always out there, watching. It put her on edge, and made sleeping almost impossible despite how tired she was. She wasn't the only person feeling this way.
The Veil inside the ruin was torn from past bloodshed. Restless spirits and the undead stirred as they hungered for more death. Their progress was further hampered by collapsed corridors and ancient traps. One upside was that there was a reason this place had been heavily defended. The elven ruin was a treasure trove of both gold and knowledge.
In one of the small libraries, Daylen found a phylactery that held the memory of an ancient elven mage who had been trapped inside this device for centuries. In exchange for its final release from this wretched half life, it offered him the secret of arcane warrior for his service. Her cousin promised to share what he was taught later, after all the information had settled in his brain.
Deep inside the lair, a talking werewolf stopped them and asked for parley on behalf of their leader.
The Lady of the Forest was a bound forest spirit in female form. The spirit oozed the same wild magic as the very air they breathed. To no one's surprise, her side of the story painted an entirely different picture than the story Zathrian had told. At this point, Bethany simply wanted to put her hands on the Keeper's shoulders and shake him until the truth came out of his lying mouth.
Daylen was likewise unimpressed by Zathrian's deception. He promised the Lady to bring the Keeper to her in order to free all the werewolves of the curse.
They didn't have to spend another two weeks trudging back to the Dalish camp. Zathrian had never trusted the Wardens to do his dirty work. Instead, he had come to the ruin to personally ensure the task would be carried out to his specification.
It seemed inevitable that the Keeper would turn on them when the negotiation broke down. They had to literally beat some sense into the old elf before he resigned to do the right thing. Bethany didn't know what she was expecting, but she was a stuttering mess when there was suddenly a roomful of naked people standing very close to her. She had to keep her eyes fixed on the tip of her boots to avoid getting an eyeful.
Zevran seized the opportunity to make fun of her relentlessly until Leliana shoo'd him away. The elf changed his target and went to bother Alistair instead.
Without werewolves ambushing them three times a day, the journey back only took half as long. One good thing that came of this unpleasant frolic in the woods was that Bethany had successfully shapeshifted into a wolf. There were no hawks in this forest, and wolves were abundant, so that was the animal she was able to study up close. Morrigan was very pleased with her progress, and the witch made sure to rub that in Wynne's face.
As the new Keeper, Lanaya thanked them on the clan's behalf and promised to provide the Wardens with Dalish support to fight the Blight. The much subdued woman also confessed quietly that she had long suspected Zathrian's involvement, but was unwilling to confront him.
Not wanting to overstay their welcome, they rested long enough to refill their supplies before moving on to their next stop, Denerim.
x-x-x
The Imperial Highway leading to the capital city was filled with refugees fleeing the Blight. Pulling a cloak over their armors and arms was enough to blend in with all the other weary, travel-worn peasants. They rendezvoused with Bodahn and Sandal at a campsite roughly an hour west from Denerim's main gate, where they had been waiting for them for a while.
"We've resupplied in Denerim while waiting for you folks. We've got news, too. Ill news, I'm afraid." Bodahn said.
Teryn Loghain, now Regent of the Crown of Ferelden, had placed the entire blame of the defeat in Ostagar on the Grey Wardens' heads. All Grey Wardens were to be arrested on sight for the crime of treason. While Denerim was flooded with refugees, the crime rate soared. Civil unrest afflicted the capital city as much as the Blight did. While gangs ran rampant on the streets in broad daylight, the alienage had to be quarantined because of an outbreak of plague brought on by the influx of poor peasants sick with the taint.
Bethany had been to Denerim once before when she was six, or seven. Her family were living in Amaranthine at the time, and they visited the Denerim market one summer. She remembered being fascinated by the massive pyre set in front of the chantry that symbolize Andraste's sacrifice at the night of All Soul's day. Mother had told her stories about how people in the Free Marches would dress up as spirits and parade the streets at night.
"We will need to split up to not attract as much attention." Daylen said.
Daylen took Wynne, Zevran, and the Qunari with him. His group would seek out Brother Genitivi, if not to locate this mystical relic with miraculous healing power, at least to find out where all the missing Redcliffe knights went.
Leliana, herself, and the dog went with Alistair. Their job was to poke around the city and gather information while they waited. The two groups would then converge at a safe house Zevran had arranged through Bodhan, an inn called the Pearl, and then they would decide what to do next depending on the information they gathered.
Morrigan had sniffed disdainfully before stalking back to her tent. She would rather stay with the dwarves in the woods than put up with the unwashed masses in an overcrowded city.
The general mood in the city was a nervous thrum of anxiety mixed in with despair. With the torrent of bad news coming from the south, most people were hard pressed to believe Teyrn Loghain's claim that this was not a real Blight. The chantry was overwhelmed by funeral services, and the supposedly comforting chants from the chanters rang hollow and trite. They spent their daylight combing through the markets and talking to vendors. By sundown, they arrived at the Pearl and almost turned around and walked away as soon as they stepped past the threshold.
The Pearl was not an inn. It was, technically, a place where people slept, as Zevran had put it. Bethany suspected that very little actual sleep ever happened in this place, judging by the debaucherous scene in the drinking hall and the odd noises and musty scents wafting down from upstairs. This was the downside of being a shapeshifter. Some traits of her wolf form had bled over, granting her slightly keener senses even while she had not shifted. She suddenly had a deep sympathy for Morrigan, who had mastered a wide range of shapes. This would explain a great deal of her disdain for people in general, and her preference to stay aloof.
Bethany found herself slouching and shrinking behind her companions to avoid being leered at. What in Andraste's name was Zevran thinking? A brothel might be grand for the lecherous elf, it definitely didn't feel like a safe place for her!
Alistair, Maker bless him, positioned his armor-clad bulk in front of her to block out most of the impolite stares. Barkspawn stood behind her, growling at hands straying too close to her rear. Next to her, Leliana was muttering darkly to herself in rapid Orlasian. Even from her limited understanding to the language, Bethany could tell Zevran was in big trouble.
"There they are. I'm so going to kick the elf's scrawny ass." Alistair grumbled.
In a relatively quiet corner of the drinking hall, Daylen was playing cards against a dusky skinned woman. While Sten was guarding the table like an imposing statue, Zevran was sipping wine with a lazy grin on his face. Wynne, on the other hand, was sitting stiffly with an aura of severe disapproval cloaked over her very being.
Daylen put his cards down on top of the spread of silver coins and smiled brightly at the woman. "I believe this is my win, Captain Isabela."
The woman tossed her head back and laughed. "Oh, well played. A deal is a deal. I will not renage."
Leliana interrupted. "You," she grabbed Zevran by the edge of his leather pauldrons and pulled him up from his seat. "You are an inconsiderate ass."
"Well, that's not news." Isabela chirped up, grinning at Zevran's misfortune.
"Whoa, Leliana. What have I done to offend this time?"
Leliana send a quick glance at Bethany's direction before she narrowed her eyes at the elf. "I see you've forgotten we have… a very young woman with us. This place is entirely inappropriate!"
Zevran put his hands up in surrender. "Paz. I meant no harm."
Wynne added in an arctic tone, "this establishment is inappropriate even for an old woman!"
Zevran gave the Senior Enchanter a wounded look. "My darling Wynne, you are nowhere near as old as you pretend to be. Why, your bosom is still as sweet as a ripen peach."
Wynne's face twitched. Bethany was a little worried her mentor might be having a stroke right now. "I'm not your darling. And for the last time, stop… talking… about… my… bosom."
"Of course." Zevran agreed amiably. "Where are my manners. This lovely lady is Isabela, Captain of the Siren's Call, Queen of the Eastern Seas, and also the sharpest blade in Llomerryn. Isabela, everyone. Everyone, Isabela. Now could you please let me go, dear bard?"
Leliana dropped him back to his seat.
Isabela's hooded eyes slowly swept over the newcomers, a dangerous smirk curved at the corner of her full lips. "My, my. You travel with interesting people, Zev. Tell me, handsome Warden. Is what they say about Warden stamina true? Your Warden brother wouldn't answer when I asked."
Alistair's face turned a shade of alarming red that was almost purple.
"Aww, how precious. Looks like we have a blushing virgin on our hand. Let me know when you want to find an answer to my questions. We can find out together."
Leliana's voice was low and dangerous. "How did you know they're Wardens?"
Isabela winked at her. "I have my ways. You should thank Zev, by the way. There are many unsavory kinds looking for your friends. The Pearl is known for their discretion. You are safe here. I couldn't say the same elsewhere. Besides, I heard there are Crows about in the city. You can deal with the problems while they're still manageable, or you can flee. It's your choice. Either way, better tread carefully."
Zevran looked a little pale at the information. Leliana looked taken aback.
"I… Thank you. That is very generous of you, Captain." Leliana said.
"I know. You should thank me, personally, and repeatedly." Isabela said, giving Leliana a languid once over while licking her lips.
Bethany felt her face erupted in a mad blush at the suggestion. The thought of the chantry Sister being propositioned by the pirate was just… just…
While Bethany was freaking out, Leliana seemed completely unfazed by Isabela's antics. "I'm sure Zevran here will convey his gratitude to you to the best of his ability." She said in a dry tone.
Isabela shrugged. "Why not both? Men are good for only one thing. Women are good for six."
Bethany couldn't suppress her outburst. "Six? Which six?"
"That's quite enough!" Wynne sent a dirty look at the Captain.
Leliana made a distressed noise and tugged Bethany away. "Ignore her. There is no need for a proper young lady like you to find out for many, many years to come."
Bethany had wanted to protest that she was nineteen, which made her far from a child, that plenty of women her age were married with multiple children on the way already. Sadly, she knew better than to argue when she was obviously the youngest in the group. It was completely unfair. Leliana herself couldn't be more than a couple years older than her anyway.
Blowing a kiss farewell, Isabela sauntered upstairs with Zevran in tow. They probably wouldn't come out of their room until the next morning.
Bethany wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about what they'd be doing in there.
"What of the Brother?" Determined to ignore the byplay as Bethany did, Alistair asked and sat down on the chair Zevran had previously occupied.
Daylen shook his head. "Brother Genitivi was not home, but I've got his research notes." He lowered his voice. "There are now two corpses left in his house. There might really be something to the fabled ashes."
"Let's hope it's real, otherwise I'm all out of ideas. If Arl Eamon doesn't wake up soon, we will have no one to stop the civil war. Ferelden will tear itself apart before the Blight could finish the job." Alistair said.
With Loghain in control of the Crown, his prohibitive policy would prevent Grey Wardens in other countries from coming to help end the Blight in Ferelden. In other words, to end the Blight, they must remove Loghain first; to remove Loghain, they must enlist the most powerful noble's help. With the Couslands massacred by Arl Howe and thus out of the picture, Arl Eamon was their best choice. And to enlist Arl Eamon's help, they must find the Sacred Ashes of Andraste, a mythical relic that most sane people believed only existed in stories.
The Fourth Blight lasted twelve years and nearly destroyed Antiva, Rivain, the Free Marches, and Anderfel. Bethany didn't want to contemplate what sorry state Ferelden would be in by the end of this Blight.
Morrigan was frostier than usual when they returned to camp the next day because they made her wait longer than was strictly necessary. Bethany watched the way her cousin talked to the prickly witch and the imagery of him petting a temperamental cat overlapped. She had to quickly look away to stop herself from gawking wide-eyed at the pair. Wow. Her cousin was smitten, and it seemed Morrigan was not entirely unaffected.
Smiling to herself, Bethany wondered if the others had noticed too.
"She is beautiful, no? I could see the appeal. I'm afraid the witch will only break his heart at the end." Leliana said quietly and sat down next to her by the fire.
Bethany tilted her head to study the Sister. "Do you like Daylen?"
Leliana smiled, looking at her a little oddly. "Of course. He is a good man, a good friend, and a competent leader. He deserves better than that witch."
"Morrigan is not so bad."
Leliana hummed, the dubious expression on her face was clear enough to convey her disagreement.
After dinner, the party gathered to discuss their next destination.
If they were to follow up on the clues left in Brother Genitivi's house, they would need to go to a small town call Haven, where the Temple of the Sacred Ashes was supposedly located. Bethany sighed in dismay when she saw the map marking out the little town in the middle of Frostback Mountains. It would take them at least a solid month to get there.
The other choice was to head to Orzammar and rally the dwarves to fight the Blight. While Alistair preferred to pursue the Ashes to heal the Arl as soon as possible, everyone else would rather go visit the dwarven kingdom underground than to chase legend. Regardless, both Orzammar and Haven were on the far west end of Ferelden. The only difference was whether to take the North Road or the West Road out of Denerim.
To no one's surprise, Alistair was overruled. With Orzammar in mind, they marched on.
Despite the long journey ahead, Bethany could not bring herself to complain. Having to walk all day was still a thousand times better than being imprisoned in the Tower. Besides, she was getting plenty of practice shapeshifting as a wolf. She made a better scout than the mabari simply because she was able to speak. Between Morrigan and her, they were always able to find a source of running water close by to set camp most night.
Sadly, Bethany was unable to find any hawks for her to study. There were plenty of ravens though. Morrigan had informed her that studying birds in general would be helpful in advancing her skill, implying that the ability to fly didn't necessarily come with the form. Not too enthused by the prospect of falling out of the sky, Bethany set out to study birds in earnest.
After many days of squinting at random birds in the sky, Bethany was presented with a pair of elbow length leather gloves along with a tethered red-crested raven one night at camp.
"I've fed it some liver and a drop of blood lotus extract. It is docile, but take care to avoid its beak and claws. I will teach you how to train it." Leliana said, showing her how to handle the bird correctly.
Bethany was rendered speechless by the unexpected gift.
Leliana saw the question in her eyes, so she answered with a faint smile. "Orlesian nobles have too much time on their hand. Falconry is but one of many such self-entertaining indulgences. Ravens are intelligent and discreet, thereby making them excellent messengers. A hunting falcon can impress, but a messenger raven has the power to change the balance of the Game."
Bethany didn't know what else to do but profess her thanks profusely. Leliana's thoughtfulness and generosity only served to make it harder to get over her hopeless crush.
"Does it have a name?" Bethany asked.
"It is yours now. That privilege belongs to you."
Bethany name it Crookytail, after the griffon mount of the elven Warden Garahel, who had slain the Archdemon in the previous Blight. Both Daylen and Alistair heartily approved.
x-x-x
A/N: To my Mass Effect fic readers, I must apologize for getting sidetracked. Please understand that it's impossible to stop obsessing when a story is trying to be written. About this fic - the pacing is set to be really, really fast for a reason. One playthrough of Origins took me 70 hours, nonetheless, the storyline of Origins is simple; an unlikely/reluctant hero is given an epic quest to raise an army and save the world from a great evil. The hero wins. The end. This is why I don't plan on getting into the details like I did for the Mass Effect fic. Those who have not played the games before will probably be very confused.