A.N. – My Christmas fic for Rissy James as part of the CMDA secret santa exchange.

Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen
Winston Churchill

xxxXXXxxx

It had taken her two weeks to return. Rather fast, considering the time normal people would take – those who didn't have the dubious luck of carrying the taint – but painstakingly slow for someone who wished to cross spaces in the time of a thought. It wouldn't erase harm, it wouldn't change anything that had already happened and yet, it might make it quicker to patch. Bethany had mulled that thought over and over in her mind, as her stomach rebelled against the rocky journey and threatened to make her keel over just as her feet stumbled out of the boat.

Far less time had been needed to cross the city. The sharp edged armor and its silver griffons stopped some; physical similarity to her sister halted everyone else. Kirkwall was like this, fearful and selfish. None would look past their fear of the elder Hawke to see the frantic mage beneath.

Still, the woman hadn't noticed that trace of fear. Her mind was elsewhere – not on her path, not even on the house that could have been hers. No, all her attention was focused on the formerly Tevinter mansion. It didn't seem nearly as scary after the Deep Roads, she wondered briefly, maybe the taint had changed that in her too.

Once upon a time, Bethany would be perfectly content to keep behind her sister and fear the man inside. Whomever she had become blasted the door in her path and ran above without a second thought.

Varric had always called him 'broody'. Bethany agreed, the man brooded himself into a coma most of the time. No scene illustrated that nickname more than the one she found as she entered his room. Fenris sat at a corner; chin on his hand, flames hypnotizing him into a calm that permeated the air, unbroken by her noisy entrance. Even his armor seemed less of armor and more of casual clothing against the background of flames. Sluggishly, his eyes turned to her form, so calm, so at peace. The anger she had been nursing all throughout the journey there grew and spilled out its container, filling every inch of her body.

"What were you thinking?"

"Bethany?" Confused, he looked confused. Maker helped her if that wasn't an understatement. "What are you doing here?"

Magic spoke for her. Blue light left her hands, sharp as lightning in a stormy night – the one she never used on him because he hated it so much and she feared him even more – tendrils of magic wrapping around the lithe body and tightening. So strong they were that the woman could almost hear bones grinding and crushing in the mix of her satisfaction. Her emotions ran darker, her fingers tightened, the spell squeezed and blood rushed against her hold and threatened to run out.

Marian had been harmed. Harm was the only thing Bethany felt able to do.

"What were you thinking?" She repeated softly.

He had left her sister alone. He had left her alone without a word except sorryand sorry would never be good enough. How dared he? How dared this spineless excuse for a man to break and trample and shatter a woman until shards had spilled onto vellum to her estranged sister?

"How could you," Bethany continued, giving him little time to reply. "How dare you to use her and discard her as nothing? You thought she would be silent? I am her sister! She would tell me a vindictive broken sample of a man would harm her! Do you believe yourself to be above her? Do you believe you have the right to use mysister!"

The mage shook from head to toe. Word by word, her speech increased in volume until it resounded through the mansion and it wasn't anger anymore but honest rage in every tone. He should be grateful she had morals, – that Marian existed somewhere outside that mansion – because otherwise her hands would twist, would tighten, would shred him into pieces.

Just like that, one single gesture. It would be so easy.

Not here for revenge, she forced her fingers apart, not here for yourself. Even if it was far more tempting than any demon she had ever met in the Fade.

"You don't know what you're saying," he managed to squeeze against her magic. "You don't know what happened between us. You're not… you shouldn't meddle in this matter. You don't know…"

Bethany almost laughed. Didn't know? He was just like Marian, not seeing the woman where the child once stood.

"I don't need to know the details. I know you, Fenris!" Curiosity flowed through his body, curiosity and derision. He didn't believe her or her words but Bethany said the truth, she never lied and wouldn't start then. "You're a coward. You ran from your life as a slave into a deal with a demon. Then you left him, only to get scared of freedom and back into his arms until it's time to leave all over again. And you run to this vile mansion from a life that could be good and a person who'd be good for you just to wallow in the memories you don't want to have. It takes one to know one! And I know you, coward!"

Fenris could be as calm as he could be violent. Bethany felt him struggle anew against her magic as hate replaced disgust. Not because she was a mage or because she was using it against him; those were excuses. She was telling the truth and truth hurt. Took one to know one and he knew her.

"Why are you telling me all of this? You haven't spoken with her for months now!"

It was a stupid question, it truly was, and Maker, she was so ready to reply sharply. This was Fenris, though, and he didn't remember. The only family he had was a cursed redheaded girl with too much fear in her veins to care for him.

Bethany spoke for the same reason that kept her from replying to her sister's letters (even though she wanted to), that kept her from visiting (even though she wanted nothing else), that kept her silent. Bethany was Marian's sister and she loved her enough to leave and keep her sister from remembering how the taint had divided them.

"Tell me something, Fenris," the mage asked instead. "How happy has Marian been lately?"

He stopped fighting her spell for time enough to reach the same conclusion she had. Marian was recovering – slowly, granted – leaving Lothering behind, leaving the guilt which she had carried since the Deep Roads. She was happier than Bethany had ever seen her since those days and this repressed elf was part of it. He wouldn't destroy it. He wouldn't, if shehad anything to do with it!

"You know. You've seen it. She's okay."

"She's better," he corrected slowly, even troubled. "She isn't alright."

Her rage reappeared like it had never left. "Semantics! Are you going to run away using words now? She's happy. Marian's happy and Maker knows why, you're the reason. Get your head out of your ass for a second and realize things can go just fine if you let them happen!"

They both stilled, eyes locked against each other's. They were similar, they were the same, they were cowards. It was why she was there; she, of all people, understood.

"I know her shadow is comfortable, Fenris," the woman continued. "I do. I've been there. It's not that she is great. It's that we're smaller and make ourselves even smaller. It's so much easier to. But we both have to be brave. She needs us to be brave and get her out of that pedestal because, otherwise, she'll be what we make of her. And I love my sister, not some ideal Kirkwall's turning her into."

Bethany waited until his eyes slipped down, pensive as she had never seen him. That was her signal to fade her spell away, releasing him gently onto the floor. He didn't even notice when she turned his back to him, wide open to the revenge that wouldn't follow. It wouldn't; they were the same. Right now, he would be thinking about the words that she had said and finding the truth in between the lines. They were the same, he could become brave too. Gathering the remains of her control, the mage forced one step after the other until the entrance's wooden surface was behind her and cool air drifted against her skin.

"Done scaring the man?"

Her Commander waited outside, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk that stated clearly that the door hadn't been obstacle enough. Bethany was dead sure his ear had been against the surface the entire time.

"Think he'll stop acting like a repressed fool?"

Alistair lost a moment to ramble about someone named Sten, Cousland, something about tigers or wolves and Seheron as Bethany rested against the door she had just closed, her thoughts firmly inside the room. Maker, she hoped. Marian deserved the best and if she thought the best was this broken being, then so be it.

"I hope so."

"Mhm. Third question. Think he'll ever clean this place? Looks like Avernus' lair. Smells worse."

The mage raised an eyebrow; giving him plenty of time to understand he had denounced himself as having been inside the house, likely keeping an eye on her.

Alistair would later tell her she looked exactly like her sister when she did that.

It made her smile.

xxxXXXxxx

Two months went by before Bethany received any missive from Kirkwall. When it arrived, it contained only two sentences. No signature.

He told me. Thank you.

"What do you have there?"

Bethany didn't reply; words could destroy a moment such as this. Instead, his hand gripped the vellum, eyes rushing through the simple words only to be followed by that candid smile which made half the women in the Keep treat him like a child instead of their Commander.

"You clever little minx."

Her answering grin was blinding in its happiness.

"Just, you know," he continued blandly. "Don't do it to mysister. If she gets me more nephews slash nieces slash husbands to support, I might need an extra job. I don't want an extra job. It'll give me wrinkles, look."

Alistair's chatter filled the air, one arm sliding over her shoulders, halting her thoughts which touched how she wasn't part of Marian's happiness, not really, how she wished to be there, maybe with this kind-hearted man by her side? Marian would like him, Bethany was sure of it.

"In time," the male whispered in her ear. "In time, you'll go back."

"We. We'll go back."

"Wasn't that what I just said? Even if your sister is dead scary and I'm pretty sure there are some Amells around the Circle…"

Crumbs. That was what her actions in Kirkwall were, the letters exchanged with Varric, the gossip with Isabella, the comments to Aveline. Nothing more than crumbs.

One day, those would guide her home.