Spark
Author's Note: The cover picture is actually an edit that I shamelessly took from shippingshopper off of tumblr before making some minor edits.
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"Come on," her brother pleaded, smiling sweetly at Anders. "A drink will do you good."
Awkwardly, Bethany stood on the sidelines, watching as Garret's eyes ran over the length of the warden's body. This was not what she'd expected. When Garret had suggested celebrating the extra money they'd earned from the last job, she had thought that they'd head straight to the Hanged Man, have a few drinks and be on their merry way.
Instead, her brother had lead her to Darktown.
She hated feeling like a snob. Regardless of her mother's previously owned Amell title, Bethany wasn't a highborn. She never complained about the color of Orlesian silks not matching her eyes or lips, she didn't bemoan on that her bed was too high and her skin cursedly too soft (mostly because none of those things were even remotely true) but that didn't stop her seething at the idea of walking in Darktown's muck.
She actually liked her boots, even if the sole was wearing out. Staring down at them now, Bethany noticed that in the next month of so, she'd have to visit the cobbler up in Lowtown. That could cost anywhere between a few copper pieces to a couple of silvers for entirely new boots.
Maker's breath, now she was really looking forward to a drink, or two. She had no intention of being a third wheel. No doubt, Varric and Aveline would talk stories, and Anders and Garret would stare lustfully into each others eyes, leaving her to sit alone and drink.
If it'd been daylight, and she had felt safe enough, Bethany would have headed straight to the Hanged Man herself, or home.
But already on their way here they'd ended up in a fight with thieves and mercenaries twice. The streets really weren't safe and no matter how strong a mage she believed herself to be, numbers could easily overwhelm her abilities. Even just her and her brother had struggled against the eight or so men.
Not that that didn't stop Garret's pleased expression as he looted money from their bodies. Nothing really stopped Garret's chipper mood. He was like his mabari, Barkspawn, sometimes. And more often than Mother would like.
"I'm not sure," Anders continued.
"Sis, tell him it'll be fun," Garret requested, looking over his shoulder at her. Bethany pushed off from the wall, grabbing her staff to fiddle with. "Bethany?"
At the high pitch whine, spoken by her name, Bethany smiled up at the two men.
Her brother was funny sometimes, especially when he looked at her with big blue eyes and a look of desperation cast over his features. Carver had never managed to master that puppy face. "It'll be fun," she promised, turning to Anders, "Varric tells the best stories. And even Aveline said she might make an appearance."
"Exactly!" Garret proclaimed. "And how long have you been working? You don't have to drink, but a night out with friends might relieve some tension." Bethany cringed at the awkward flirting. They'd only known Anders for a couple of weeks, but already her brother was smitten by him.
Not that he really said anything to her. It was all over-the-top flirting and wild looks of amazement. Sometimes the offhand comments to her about how powerful Anders was. She was lucky Garret stopped there given his usual history. But it wasn't much of a surprise that Anders worked his magic, Garret always did have a thing for dangerous and wounded souls.
His words, not hers.
"Doesn't your magic work better when you're feeling relaxed?" her brother tried one last time.
Anders' finally relented, letting out a sigh as he nodded. "It might do me some good," he agreed. "It has been a while since I've taken a night off."
Garret beamed, slapping his shoulder rather hard in excitement. "Excellent! First round's on me then," he proclaimed, not noticing the mage wince from the slap as he swung around to face his sister.
Bethany shook her head, walking over to stand by the apostate healer. "It's swill," she whispered to him. "Even the water tastes horrid there."
"I know. But maybe the pleasant company will make up for the drinks." Sharing a warm smile, he shrugged off her worries.
Bethany blinked, momentarily stunned before she smiled back. Perhaps Anders' company wouldn't be so bad, she thought quietly. He was a nice man after all, and one who'd recently lost a dear friend. The loneliness of that he showed was part of the reason why Garret had invited him to come with them.
She knew where her brother was coming from, a part of him just wanted to make Anders smile again like he had in their first meeting, and that was great. But she just wished that the not-so platonic feelings were expressed when she wasn't around.
She didn't need to see her brother flirt, especially not this horrendously. It made herfeel awkward and weirded out. And she'd walked in on Carver masturbating once.
"I'm just going to lock up and make sure everything's okay," Anders explained. Understanding, Garret nodded before leading Bethany outside of the Clinic. She could see her brother smiling proudly underneath the Clinic lamp. It was the same smile he'd get when he'd mastered a new battle tactic.
"It's going to be a good night," Garret smiled down at her. "We deserve some fun."
"I think you and I have different ideas of fun," she replied dryly.
"I'll tell you what, how about instead of drinks I save the money I would have spent on your ale, and give it to you to go shopping with later." Bethany looked up at him, surprised by the generosity.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. But you'll still come to the Hanged Man, right?"
Bethany smiled, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss her brother's cheek. "Of course. Thank you, brother."
"Any time," he murmured, ruffling her hair. Bethany cringed, but that didn't stop the affectionate smile she gave him when he stopped. It almost made up for what she knew would be a night of third-wheels, or fifth. Maybe Aveline wouldn't show, or Varric would be too busy and she'd have someone to talk to.
From inside the Clinic, they could hear Anders directing some of his assistance, making sure they were well stocked, before locking up with a final, "I'll be at the Hanged Man if any emergencies happen to come by." The door creaked shut and the lamp flickered off. They were, for the most, done for the night.
Hopefully nothing happened while Anders was gone.
An odd silence fell over them as they began their walk back to Lowtown. Uncomfortably, she kicked at pebbles on the ground, her hands fiddling with the new staff. She could see that Garret kept his eyes steady in front, waiting for the next sign of danger, or perhaps pensively thinking over an ideal topic. Anders, however, kept a steadier pace beside her. He seemed more relaxed, though she noticed him glancing back towards the clinic's direction once or twice.
"Anders?" she asked when the silence became unbearable.
"Yes?"
"Your magic. Healing. Do you think you could teach me to be as good- or well?" She bit her tongue, fumbling over the words. She hadn't meant for her words to come out like that. "I mean, do you think that you could give me pointers. No matter how much I try, I usually leave scars on wounds when you're not there."
"Women like scars," Garret jested, knowing Bethany hated that she left more than a few knife-blade across his abdomen or shoulder due to a lack of skill. She had the talent, but not the ability.
"Ah," Anders smiled, "that's about technique. That's actually not something I can really teach you to be honest. Different mages work differently. I mean you can read and talk to people, see how they do it and test it out for yourself, but each mage is different. Sometimes it's really just about getting lucky and stumbling on what works for you."
"Why?" she asked. Her father had been a mage, but he'd never explained how things worked. It'd be frustrating to say the least, but she realized now that there were a thousand and one things to teach her, he just simply hadn't had the time on top of working and looking after his family. But he made an effort and there was no denying that it showed.
"Magic flows differently through them. One mage may use wilder movement, larger casts, another requires a more flourish in their movements, precision in how they move their hands or staff. Actually, I once knew a mage who always kept her hand on the staff to focus her energy, but used her hands to expel the magic."
"Did it work for her?" Bethany asked.
"Not at all, but she stubbornly refused to try any other way." He smiled, looking over at Bethany. "Besides, I thought you practiced elemental magic, not healing so much."
"I do! My father taught me. But sometimes I wish I could do more to help, you know? Ice and fire's all well and good but what if Garret gets hurt and you're not there? What if we run out of injury kits or health poultices, or he's fallen down and can't-"
In front of them, Garret scoffed as he looked over at them. "Didn't I tell you sis? I'm invincible."
She glared, blinking back the sting in her eyes. She hadn't meant to express her fears. "Now you sound like Carver," she scolded. Garret smirked, turning back to walk up the steps to Lowtown. She paused for a few moments, thinking back on her other brother. Her twin. There were days where she was sharply aware of his absence like she'd lost a limb.
He was her brother, just as he was Garret's, but Bethany knew Garret didn't understand. Couldn't. But he tried. "If I'd been better," she whispered, "maybe I could have saved Carver."
Anders didn't say anything. For a moment she hoped he hadn't heard her.
It was a stupid wish rotten with guilt. She shouldn't have said anything let alone admit something that had been buried inside her depths. That had been a private thought, one that kept her up most nights, but one she hadn't had any intention of burdening on others.
"I have a few books I can lend you," Anders replied. "They might help."
"Thank you."
She wished she hadn't said anything.
The rest of the walk followed with more silence, and then eventually Garret became tirelessly weighed down by the pregnant pause, that he broke it with a joke. It was one he remembered about Templars and Mages. Anders seemed to laugh, which was a relief, and he'd returned with a joke of his own.
Bethany smiled. It was nice, and even though she still felt awkward in what she'd said-
Maker, Anders was far older than her, experienced, and a warden on top of that! He didn't want to go around helping girls with their magic, and he'd dealt with far worse than just losing one person.
-It was comforting to see her brother smiling freely. It'd been a while since he'd grinned openly like that with no secrets, no hidden emotions behind his eyes as they passed jokes back and forth between them.
"Alright so a Mage and a Templar enter a bar. And the templar says, 'Barkeep, I'd like to buy my good friend the finest drink in the house.' The barkeep turns to the mage and says, 'You need to stop with this Blood Magic crap.'"
Garret laughed, "That's an old one, goes back to Ferelden doesn't it?"
"It's the first joke I learnt at the Circle. You couldn't say it around a Templar though, they'd get nervous. It was rather funny I have to admit, but I think the Templars here would lock me up before I'd get a chance to finish the joke. They seem a bit high-strung."
Rolling her eyes, Bethany pushed through the Hanged Man's door and paused. Behind her, her brother and Anders voice went quiet as across the bar, a fight broke out.
A woman, dressed in a short, white tunic that seemed to show more than it hid, smashed a particularly rattish face against the bar top. Bethany watched, as the woman turned, pushing away from the man, only to be captured by strong arms that pinned hers against her sides.
Bethany grasped at her staff, ready to pull it free and break into the fight, but the woman, her appeared more amused than worried by being captured, kicked back hard. The arms dropped away before her boots landed on the floor hard. Swiftly, she turned and kicked again at his belly, booting the man into the bar's column support.
Bethany watched amazed as the woman's hand slid over her shoulders to the daggers golden handle on her back. Slicing it through air, she pressed it to a third man's neck.
"Tell me Lucky," she heard the woman speak, "is this worth dying for?"
Thankfully the man, knowing he was defeated, backed off with his goons. The woman, adjusting the blue sash around her waist, watched them leave before returning back to her drink as though nothing had happened. Bethany stared, flabbergasted by the entire event.
"Well, you don't get to see that everyday," Garret murmured.
"You do at the Hanged Man," Anders replied.
"I guess," Garret rubbed at the back of his neck, shaking his head. "Alright, I need to talk to Varric for a bit about the Deep Roads expedition and then we'll have some drinks, okay? It'll only be for a few minutes I think."
"I'll look after your sister."
"Thanks. You'll be all right here, Beth? You won't go running back home before I come back."
"Yes- no. I'll be here," Bethany fumbled a reply, her eyes tearing from the woman's back. How were Garret and Anders not amazed by what just happened? How was no one surprised? The woman had just took on three men by herself as though she did it daily. And maybe she did, Bethany realized. But no one else seemed to notice or care, the entire tavern had turned back to their respected conversations and moved on with their lives.
How? She couldn't stop her eyes from wandering back to the pirate, watching as she chatted teasingly towards the barkeep. The woman moved so fluidly, swiftly like nothing Bethany had ever seen before. And when she'd been captured, she'd taken only a breath before the man had been thrown backwards. As if it was easy!
And it wasn't. Bethany used to play-fight with her brothers and more than once they'd locked her in grip. Movement like that required serious flexibility. Flexibility that she just didn't have.
"Are you okay?"
She blinked, turning to Anders, "what? Oh yeah, it's just...I've never seen someone take on a group of men by themselves before."
"We take on groups like that often," he teased.
"I know, but it's different when you have someone with you. By yourself, no one's watching your back," she explained. "If I were by myself, all they'd have to do is get up close. I can't fight close ranged, I'd get myself in the crossfire and I can't beat them off with my staff."
Anders frowned, "I couldn't honestly say. Melee fights aren't my forte."
"They aren't mine either," Bethany sighed. The two of them were mages, their power came in distance, clustered attacks and long-range fires. She'd never be that fluid, that flexible and swift in battle. The woman had been there one moment and somewhere else the next.
"Well...perhaps you should go over and ask for lessons in fighting?"
Bethany turned, shooting Anders a dark look. "I fight well by myself. I might not fight like her, but I can hold my own in a distance. If I see them coming."
"I know." It was meant sympathetically, but Bethany just felt patronized.
Sighing, she avoiding looking at Anders, knowing she'd feel guilty if he had his eyes wide-open. She hadn't meant to snap at him. It was just a sore-spot. Garret could take a horde, even Carver had been good up-close with numbers, he'd even been in battle more than once. Bar brawls and fights more so. But whenever anything got too close to her, she'd either freeze, flail wildly, or go running backwards.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
"Sorry," she murmured. "Let's just...sit down, or something." Anders nodded, pulling his staff from his back to lean against the wall as he sat down at the table near the fire. Bethany's own staff leant against her chair. She didn't like it being out of arms reach.
The two of them probably looked like scholars, mages on leave from the circle to study magic. At least until Garret came back with Varric, and a round of drinks.
But when Garret came out from Varric's room, he didn't just get drinks. The dwarf, however, sat himself contently down on one of the chairs Bethany pushed out for him as her brother walked past to the bar and ended up in conversation with the woman from the fight.
"Who's she?" Bethany asked, watching conversation pass between her brother and the woman. There was light flirting if her brother's stance meant anything. The woman, too, seemed to look him up and down admiringly. Of course. Men, women, whoever and whatever; if they were interested, they were interested in him.
"Isabela?" Varric asked, turning to look where her eyes laid. He shrugged when Bethany's swung back to face him. "Haven't gathered much to be honest. She's searching for something. Had Lucky running around for information."
"Lucky?" Bethany blinked. Had that been the dagger to his throat?
"Yeah, poor sod couldn't find information if someone was blabbering it to his face." Varric shook her head, lying Bianca down on the table. "Why do you ask?"
"She got into a fight before."
"She's a pirate, they tend to do that." Bethany shook her head, looking down at her hands. It didn't matter, if she asked anything more, Anders would start questioning her motives. And 'just curious' wouldn't be a satisfying response, no matter her honesty. After a pause, she tilted the conversation back to a more playful teasing game of trying to trick Varric in to explaining how Bianca was named.
It lasted only a few moments before Garret swaggered back, grinning like a fool she knew he wasn't. Without drinks, she noticed scowling. He must have been really distracted for that. Probably due to the gravity-defying breasts.
"I have us a job," he grinned.
Oh.
Bethany looked at where Isabela had been, it'd be replaced by some handsy couple that was most certainly not her. Blinking back at her brother, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Why do I get the feeling that this isn't a paid job?"
"It could lead to a paid job," Garret defended. "She'll put in a good reputation or something. Plus, there's a good chance of a healthy loot."
Bethany sighed. I was one of those jobs.
"What's the...ah, job?" Varric asked.
"She needs someone to watch her back. Doesn't trust some guy to play fair."
"Where?" Anders asked.
"High Town. Look it's an easy job, we go there, we make sure it's fair play, and then we leave."
"And if it isn't?" Varric asked.
"We fight, I guess."
"One day, we'll have an evening where the most exciting thing that happens is a cup of tea being too hot," Bethany muttered.
"Now that wouldn't be much fun. I wouldn't be able to taste Mother's delicious gruel then."
Bethany smiled up at him, "I see your point. Money would be nice for a hot meal."
"Think of a meat dish. We could have real food, with a side dish."
"Now you're just teasing me," she laughed. Sitting back, Bethany nodded, "okay. We'll do this. When does she want it done?"
"We have time for a round of drinks!"
Bethany's hand slapped over her face in second-hand mortification. She shouldn't be surprised that happened. This wasn't even the first time it had happened this month.