It was a wonderful thing that Bethany had never been afraid of heights, or else she might never have found the tome Enchanter Jericho wanted. Someone had misfiled the dusty, old compendium of dragon lore, or else they'd purposely put it where they thought no one would ever find it. If the latter, they had certainly done a good job.
Bethany's big break had come when someone mentioned noting a dragon book among the rarely used or seen theses of one Mage Harowell-mostly concerning the uses of rat dung, for some reason no one was quite sure of-when looking for a book on gem enchantment. So, out of all other options, up Bethany had gone to the very top of the two-story bookshelf. At least she could see out the windows at this level.
Closing her eyes, Bethany rested her forehead against the top of the bookshelf a moment. She took a steadying breath and clutched the tome under one arm. It was huge, and heavy, and she was having a hard time understanding how she was going to make to down other than the obvious, most likely fatal, way.
No, she'd never been merely afraid of heights-she was terrified of them. No one wanted to help her collect the book, though, and she couldn't return to Jericho without it.
"I've faced down hordes of darkspawn and this is what bothers me?" She chuckled weakly at herself and opened her eyes. Bad move. Feeling a little sick, Bethany gripped the ladder more firmly in hand and leaned her weight against the rails.
"Are you all right up there?"
It took a moment for Bethany to realize the question was directed at her-Who else would it be directed at, you nit? There's no one else in here, she thought irritably at herself-and another to try and place the voice. Whomever had spoken was a man, but she didn't recognize rather thick accent. Perhaps one of the templars; they rarely spoke to the mages, so she wouldn't know one by voice alone. She was too scared to look down again.
"I, um, yes. I mean-there's no problem, just..." Her pride warred with the need to get the hell down from there. Her limbs were like ice, not wanting to move in either direction. Finally, Bethany sighed and closed her eyes again. "I am very, very stupid."
"I'm...sorry?"
The chuckle that burst from her lips was borderline hysterical. Bethany took a moment to regain control. "Just, ah, having some bravery issues. Nothing to be worried about."
"It's okay," the man called, his tone strangely lacking in the contempt she'd expected. In fact, he sounded rather...sympathetic. How strange for a templar. "I'll hold the ladder down here. Just take one step down."
One step. She could do one step, right? The ladder did feel somewhat better balanced beneath her, now, though the slight tremor when he grabbed hold had sent her heart into her throat. Carefully, Bethany forced one foot from its rung and lowered it to the next rung down. Her other foot followed before she dared move her hand. She'd kill whomever stuck this tome up so high.
"Very good. You're doing well," the man said. "Now another."
And so it went, step by perilous step. It never really got easier and a few times Bethany had to stop, clutching at the rungs and taking deep, steadying breaths. Not once did the man chide or scold; he was patient as a priest, talking her down and making her laugh a few times-at the whole situation, even, never at herself. Finally, she neared the bottom.
"Here," said the man, and a hand gently touched her side. Bethany startled, dropping the book. Immediately her balance went, but before she could either catch herself or fall, she found herself being swept gracefully into the man's arms. "Woah there!" He laughed. "You're fine now. I've got you."
Those were the bluest eyes Bethany had ever seen. She barely noticed the press of his armor into her side and arms, or the clash of their equally ridiculous belt buckles. What right did a templar have to be so alarmingly good looking? Perfect bronzed skin, sumptuous auburn hair, chiseled jaw...it was like one of Varric's stories come to gorgeous life. She could just see the title now: Lusting in the Library; forbidden passion strikes the heart of the Gallows.
Distantly, Bethany realized he'd set her down but for one arm still around her back, hand at her hip. Her own arms nearly encircled his shoulders.
Then someone coughed from the doorway and the spell snapped like a brittle twig. He dropped her immediately, taking a wide step backward and inclining his head to her. "Madame. I trust this is better for you...ah, down here, I mean?"
Bethany looked to the door to find the First Enchanter Orsino staring at them both with the strangest expression of sad amusement. Trying for a smile, Bethany turned back to the adonis still watching her. "Much. Thank you for your help."
"My Lady," he said, sketching a bow, and marched for the door. Orsino nodded to him. The First Enchanter graced her with a brief glance, then allowed the library door to fall closed behind them.
It took several moments and quite a few deep breaths to clear Bethany of last vestiges of excitement and terror. Never again would she climb the ladders up that far, she swore, not even in the service of an Enchanter. Though she supposed if all such things ended with that sort of encounter...no. Whomever that man had been, he was no templar, she realized. Though his armor had been marked with clear symbols of Andraste, there wasn't any templar iconography. Strange; quite strange.
As she collected the fallen tome off the floor she wondered if that made her feel better or worse.
It would be another year and a few months before Bethany saw or thought of the helpful stranger again, but when she did Bethany instantly recognized him. Standing in the courtyard of the Gallows, her breath caught in her throat as her sister introduced Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven. He bowed formally and brushed his lips over her knuckles, apologizing for the attempt the Carta had recently made on her life-braving the templars to do so, no less-and expressing his hopes they could put an end to such assaults...but there was no spark of recognition in those dreamy blue eyes, and she couldn't help but feel the slightest bit disappointed.
"Come on," Hawke said, and hooked her arm through Bethany's. "The Carta won't kill themselves."
"Though wouldn't it be nice if they'd save us the trouble?" Bethany offered her a smile, determined not to hate her sister for dragging her away. This was her first time allowed out of the city since she'd joined the Circle, and she was determined to make the most of it...even if it was just another of her sister's crazed adventures. In a way, she'd missed them.
"And miss out on a good story? Sunshine, you surprise me." Varric sounded utterly appalled, though Bethany caught the telling twinkle in his eye. "If it weren't for your sister I'd have run out of ideas a long time ago."
Hawke fixed him with a wicked grin. "I don't know, Varric; Hard in Hightown has more to do with Aveline, doesn't it?"
"Oh, Maker," Sebastian and Aveline swore together, generating laughs from their companions. Bethany bit her lip on the sudden, irrational urge to offer the title that had come to her so long ago. Not appropriate, she reminded herself. Not in the least bit appropriate-but oh, how she wished it could be.