As slowly and quietly as humanly possible, Bethany eased open the door to the Hawke's small home. Biting her lip and begging the Maker to keep the door silent, the aging wood creaked loudly, as if to scoff in the mage's face; the squeak that the door gave managed to rouse the Hawke family's slumbering Mabari. The canine, whom Marian had affectionately dubbed Zoran, began barking loudly. His bulk pounded across the wooden floor, nails scraping loudly on the wood as his thunderous bark reverberated in the mage's ears.
Bethany cursed under her breath as rapid footsteps creaked across the floor, originating from her mother's room. Sure enough, the door was wrenched open the rest of the way, and a lantern was shoved in the mage's face. Bethany blinked rapidly and narrowed her eyes in an attempt to lessen the intensity of the light on her sensitive eyes. As her pupils adjusted she took in the sight of her mother standing before her, clad in a baggy white sleeping gown, her usually gentle eyes furious beneath her cloud of her gray hair, tussled from sleep. "Where in the void have you been all night girl? You were gone for two hours! Marian and Carver got home before you did!"
Pushing the invasive light of the lantern away from her light brown eyes, Bethany sighed. Zoran pushed past Mother and brushed against the mage's leg, shoving his head under her hand in an attempt to get the mage to scratch his ears. The mage crossed her arms and scowled at the dog; if the creature had not made so much noise, then she could've snuck back into her home with no fuss. The Mabari looked up at her with innocent eyes, begging for her to pet him as if he had helped the mage. Looking away from the canine, she met her mother's eyes. "I was in no trouble, Mother. I visited Sister Leliana at the Chantry, it was no big deal."
Her mother gave a deep sigh that made her shoulders sag and rolled her eyes, turning away to lead the mage into the house. Bethany followed her mother and nudged the door shut with the back of her boot; the Mabari made his way past the mage and back over to the pile of blankets in the corner that served as his bedding. The canine curled up in the bedding, watching Bethany with curious brown eyes.
Mother turned back to Bethany, fixing her with a scolding look. "Was it really necessary for you to bother that girl at this hour? She was probably asleep!"
The mage clenched her jaw slightly. "I was not bothering her, Mother. Sister Leliana was part of a late service at the tavern but she left early. And how could I bother her? She is my best friend!" Her temper flared at her Mother's words. Her mother always thought that she was bothering the beautiful redhead; if she wasn't bothering her, then she was distracting her from her studies at the Chantry. In her mother's eyes, Bethany was always disturbing the Orlesian; clearly the aging woman didn't know the beautiful Sister that well.
Seeming to ignore every detail other than the local tavern, Mother's eyes shot wide. "The tavern? Were you two at the tavern? Were you drinking?"
A sigh of exasperation escaped the mage's lips. "Mother, I do not smell of alcohol. And I've no desire to act like a drunken fool. I thought you knew me better than that."
Her mother brushed off the comment and continued the argument at a different angle. "I am proud of you for avoiding debauchery; but you are playing with forces far more dangerous than any trouble that Marian or Carver could get into. I still do not like you being friends with this Chantry girl. She is a kind and wonderful girl, there is no doubt about that, but she is a member of the Chantry. No matter her friendships, her loyalty lies with the Chantry and the Templars. Friend or not, she would be forced to report you if your magic was ever exposed to her."
Bethany bristled, her temper flaring again as her mother attacked Leliana's loyalty to the mage. She felt her mana flaring to her fingertips due to her sudden spark of anger, but she did not call upon it. "I am very aware of this. You act as if I am a child, too dense to make my own decisions. Sometimes I wonder if you do not like my friendship with Leliana simply because you are scared that she is not interested in Marian or Carver, so they aren't there to breathe down my neck and make me look like a child in need of constant supervision. Does it really come as such a surprise to you that someone is interested in being around me because I am myself, and not your daughter, or Carver's twin, or Marian's little sister? Someone who looks upon me as an adult and not a child?" Realizing her voice had been rising with the force of her anger, Bethany clenched her jaw hard, glaring at her mother. Some little random voice in her semi-conscience hoped that she hadn't woken her siblings with her rare burst of rage.
Mother blanched and looked away from her daughter, seemingly hurt by her words. The aging woman lowered the lantern and avoided the mage's eyes as she turned towards her room, her shoulders sagging as if she was ashamed. "I did not mean for my words to sound that way; I can see why she values your friendship, Bethany. You are an amazing girl…now please, get to bed. If we wish to be at her service tomorrow, we will have to wake up at a decent hour." Without waiting to hear what her daughter's response would be, the aging woman shuffled into her room and quietly shut the door behind herself. Bethany could see the light of the lantern flitting from beneath the door for a brief moment before being extinguished.
The mage stood there for a minute utterly baffled that she had just shut her mother down like that. The woman was notorious among the Hawke siblings for her ability to keep an argument or chastisement going for hours; and Bethany had caused her to clam up her finger-wagging in about five minutes. Full of shock, and a bit of pride at her ability to stand up to her mother, the mage quietly slipped through the house, the wood giving tiny squeaks and creaks under her light boots, before slipping into the room that she shared with Carver. The door swung shut behind her, the latch catching with a small click.
Lacking the energy to change into her bedclothes, Bethany toed her way out of her boots before she climbed into the bunk above Carver's. She gave a sigh of relief as she pulled the coverlets over herself. Closing her eyes, she could feel the Fade pulling her into unconsciousness…until Carver's voice popped the bubble that was her relaxation. "That was pretty intense, sister. Not even Marian can get Mother to stop her griping that fast; or make her feel ashamed about it."
Bethany felt a bit of irritation rise at her brother's sudden interruption, but she ignored it until it ebbed. The mage just wanted to go to sleep; she was emotionally and mentally exhausted. She wasn't used to being flirted with (at least she was almost positive that the Orlesian had been flirting) by her best friend and being screamed at by her mother in the same night; all the excitement was quite draining when it was all said and done. "Thanks Carver."
Just when Bethany thought that her twin had drifted into the Fade, a little giggle came from the bunk beneath her own. "So…what exactly had you and Sister Leliana out so late? Did you have her praising the Maker? Or was it the other way around?"
The mage's semi-sleep clouded mind didn't catch the suggestive tone to Carver's voice, or the double entendre. She twisted her features with confusion in the darkness of the room. "What? She's a Sister; of course she praises the Maker."
Carver snorted with muffled laughter. His sister assumed that he had covered his mouth or shoved his face in the pillow. He spoke again after his giggling fit passed. "Okay, clearly you didn't get what I meant. So, what did you guys do?"
Bethany fought back the urge to sigh. She didn't understand Carver's interest in what she was doing with Leliana; the mage just wanted to get some damn sleep. "We talked."
"That's it? What'd you talk about?"
That woke Bethany up a little. Oh nothing interesting; she just swore not to turn me in for being an apostate after she caught me playing with a fireball. Then I blabbered like an idiot for an excuse to run away because I was overcome with the sudden urge to ravage her mouth and beg her to take me right there, in the middle of the Chantry. "She was just telling me about the service they were holding at the tavern, but she grew tired of her words falling upon the deaf ears of the drunks there."
Carver groaned and shifted beneath her; he sounded almost disappointed. "Okay, okay. Get some sleep, innocent sister."
Bethany sighed with relief as Carver's line of questioning finally stopped. She was too tired to realize or even care what her brother had thought she had been doing with the beautiful redhead all night. All that the mage's mind could say was "sleep."
And with that, sleep she did. The Fade drew her in, allowing her to finally rest.
…
As the mage slept, she dreamt; but surprisingly her dreams were not plagued with the direct temptations and threats of demons. Instead, she was in Lothering, wandering aimlessly about the town as if searching for something. There were no villagers in the streets; there was no one to be seen at all. The whole town was empty, giving the usually warm, homely village a sense of abandonment and detachment. The mage began to panic a bit as she ran through the town, bursting into houses, looking for someone, anyone at all. This dream had the strange surreal quality of the Fade, but this machination, whether it had been created by demons or by her own mind, was particularly intense.
She could feel her boots sink into the mud that was the streets of Lothering, the dirt that made the roads had softened and become pliable as if it had recently rained. She could smell the earthy muck, and some sort of flowers. Was that…roses and Andraste's Grace? Sugar too? The mage instantly recognized the scent of her beautiful Orlesian Chantry Sister, Leliana. The scent was slightly off, as was the scent of many things in the Fade; as if this copy of Thedas had been sitting about too long and had become musty or smudged with some sort of contaminant. However, Bethany couldn't care that the scent of her best friend had been warped by the Fade; she was too happy to finally see someone else, and made ecstatic by the fact that it was Leliana that was trapped in this otherwise empty copy of Lothering with her. Even though this was just a Fade produced copy of the redhead, Bethany didn't care.
A flash of red darted towards the Chantry, an unmistakable lilting giggle emanating from the blur of warm colors. Bethany laughed too, the strange quality of the dream falling away from her as she spotted the Orlesian rounding a corner, her angelic face peaking around the corner, enhanced by a mischievous smirk, but she ducked around the corner as the mage grew closer. Bethany playfully gave chase, her boots making small sucking sounds as they were pulled out of the mud. "Wait for me, Leliana!"
She chased the giggling Sister all the way through the village until the redhead finally slowed as she reached the front of the Chantry. She turned to face Bethany, doubled over slightly from laughter, yet her pose held a hint of mischievousness, making the Sister even more appealing. Her eyes were that gorgeous sapphire, warm like liquid, playful and giving promises Bethany couldn't understand, but promises that excited her nonetheless. The Sister brought her right hand up, elegant fingers beckoning the mage to herself. "Come and get me, Bethany."
Her voice was low and husky, like it was last night in the Chantry. It sounded like liquid silk coming off of the Orlesian's tongue in her musical accent. Bethany liked the way she had husked her name. A tingle shooting down the mage's spine, she treaded towards the Sister as quickly as she could, but the mud seemed to get thicker, and it felt oddly like the mud was holding her back from her desire for the Orlesian. Frustration growing, Bethany treaded harder, but it seemed to make the mud tug even harder at her boots, seemingly urgent and unyielding. She looked up at Leliana with pleading eyes, silently urging the Sister to help pull her from the mud.
But the Orlesian didn't move from her beckoning position and it struck the mage as odd, almost robotic. Leliana would help her; it was just in her nature to help another who was struggling. "Come Bethany, don't you wish to join me in the Chantry?" Leliana still used that husky voice, but her face had changed a bit, her eyes seemingly sharper, the liquid sapphire suddenly hardening. The Sister shifted from her beckoning stance finally, placing her hands on her hips like she was suddenly frustrated.
The mage treaded harder, the mud nearly reaching the top of her knee high boots by now. She made a grimace of irritation and looked urgently at the Sister. Leliana's hands had drifted to the throat of her robes now, tugging at the button there and popping it cleanly off instead of taking the time to undo it with her long fingers. "Perhaps you need more…motivation?" Another pop, another button flying off and landing in the mud. Her expression was teasing, lusty; but there was something off about it, like her facial features had blurred slightly.
…
"Wakey wakey! Eggs and bakey!" Carver's grating voice sliced through Bethany's dream with the force of a sword through butter. The sudden racket made the mage jump hard and bolt upright in the twist that was her blankets; she must've been tossing and turning last night, her mind noted absentmindedly as she looked down at the pool of cloth. She panted slightly, noting that her clothes were sticking uncomfortably to her body with sweat.
Her light brown eyes shifted over to settle on Carver's, the spitting image of her own. "Sweet Maker, Carver; was it necessary to scream in my ear like that?"
The young man looked at her innocently, and for some reason it reminded the mage of the look that Zoran had given her last night after his thunderous barking woke up Mother. "Well, shaking you didn't work. I had to get you up somehow, if you want to make it to the Chantry service today; which, of course you do." He smirked at her before he disappeared back to the bunk beneath her own.
Bethany looked at the blank space where his face had been a moment ago. "Well yes, obviously; my best friend shall be there." Why had her brother said it like there was some hidden, scandalous reasoning beneath her desire to go to the Chantry? The dream she had been having just a few heartbeats ago flashed into her mind, still fresh and crisp with every detail. The image of what was about to happen in that dream made her cheeks flush with color, and she looked towards the wall as if hiding her face from someone, even though no one could see her.
Her twin's voice floated up to her ears from his bunk. "So, no nightmares last night? No demons or anything? Your thrashing didn't wake me up at all; that rarely ever happens, you being so still like that."
Looking down at her blankets, Bethany noted that they were twisted slightly, but they did not hang halfway off the bed, nor were they kicked to the floor. They looked…like a normal person's. Normally, she thrashed so aggressively in her sleep due to the tormenting from demons that she would send her blankets scattering everywhere; but last night had been relatively peaceful. "No Carver…no nightmares." The simple realization of the truth of that statement made a smile pull over her lips.
His face popped alongside her bedding again, eyeing her as if trying to solve some great mystery. "That rarely ever happens. But you're all sweaty and flushed," he paused for a moment to smirk, his voice becoming suggestive and his eyes mischievous. He cocked a dark eyebrow at her, "Wet dream, huh? Let me guess…Leliana?"
The mage's face went blood red, but she couldn't determine if it was from the fact that he had guessed correctly (partially; he had woken her up before the dream could become wet), or if it was from the sheer shock of his vulgarity. She swatted at him, but her twin dipped beneath the bed before her palm could connect with his boyish face. He chuckled loudly as he dropped to his bed. "Carver! That couldn't be farther from the truth!"
Her twin opened his mouth to say something, but the door to their room opened and Marian popped her head in, taking in the sight of the twins still laying in their bunk beds. "Will you two get up and get ready? Mother is about to blow a gasket; you know how she worries about being late."
Bethany nodded dutifully, Carver giving a groan of irritation and giving the eldest Hawke sibling a sarcastic "Aye Captain!"
Marian ducked away from the door just in time for their mother to come barreling in, toting a frilly blue dress with her. The aging woman's face was twisted up like a child's on their birthday when they are anticipating the opening of gifts. "Oh Bethany! You have to wear this beautiful dress to service today! I saw it at the market, and I thought it would look just darling on you! You'd look like a little princess!"
The dress was absolutely dreadful. It was a sky blue silk, the color quite attractive really, but it was festooned with ruffles. The aforementioned design went from beneath the breast, all the way down to the bottom of the garment, which would reach Bethany's toes. Short and ridiculously puffy sleeves sat prominently at the shoulders of the silk. It looked like the sort of thing that a little girl playing princess would wear. Bethany's jaw fell open and she could only let out a little cracking sound from somewhere in her throat, her skin blanching significantly. The very idea of Leliana seeing her in the hideous thing made her want to throw a fireball at the disturbing stitching of cloth before hiding under her blankets.
Mother nearly bounced with excitement as she held up the atrocity. A stifled snort of laughter echoed from Carver's bunk, and he quickly evacuated the room, mumbling something about getting cleaned up a bit, before he slammed the door behind himself. "Umm, Mother? Are you sure that's not a little…uh, beneath my age?"
Offense flashed across her Mother's features and she looked at the dress, seemingly not seeing the sheer absurdity of the garment. Her eyes raked slowly over the cloth multiple times. "What is wrong with it? I think its darling!"
The mage fought the urge to rest her face in her palm. Keeping her voice as gentle as possible, the mage chose her next words carefully in an attempt to spare her mother's feelings, despite the fact that there was no way to sugarcoat her opinion on the dress. "Mother…not to be frank or to hurt you…but it looks like something a little girl playing dress up would wear."
Mother gave an offended gasp, color blossoming on her cheeks as her eyes shot wide. "Bethany! This is a gorgeous dress! Like something royalty would wear! Ruffles were all the rage in Orlais for awhile! Give it a chance!"
Looking hard at the dress, Bethany tried to imagine the only Orlesian that she knew in the garment. Without even realizing it, her features twisted with disdain. Not even Leliana could pull off that dress…and as far as Bethany was concerned, Leliana could pull off a paper sack. "Umm…I'll think about it Mother. Please, allow me to wash up and get dressed."
Laying the dress carefully at the foot of Bethany's bed, her Mother fixed her with a determined stare before slipping quietly out of the room. The mage sighed and fell back on her pillow, letting her foot knock the hideous thing to the wooden floor. "Oops." Her voice lacked any true apology.
…
The pew gave a groaning creak that escalated in volume as each member of the Hawke family took a set upon it. There were quite a few more people than usual attending the service today, some faces matching those who frequented the tavern; apparently the Sisters' words had not fallen on completely deaf ears.
Bethany looked about at the newcomers, her eyes skimming over a rather intimidating woman with flame orange hair and piercing green eyes sitting with a stoic looking Templar. The Templar came here regularly, but this woman was a new sight in the Chantry, despite Bethany having seen her around town a few times. Sharp green eyes snapped up, boring into Bethany's; her Templar's following suit. The mage gave a polite nod and quickly snapped her head back to look at the altar at the front of the Chantry, the stares of the Templar and his wife unsettling her greatly.
The mage still felt eyes on her, but this intense stare burned into her skin from the left. Bethany looked past Carver and Marian to just in time to catch her Mother dropping her glare and looking away quickly as if she hadn't been looking at her daughter with disapproval. Knowing exactly where the hostility came from, Bethany sighed heavily and leaned back against the pew, looking down at her outfit.
She had refused to wear the dress, as any self-respecting woman with eyes would've; opting instead for simple black pants, her knee high brown boots, and a short sleeved white tunic. Completing the outfit was her red bandanna that was constantly kept tied at her throat. The simple red cloth had been her father's, and she had grown greatly attached to it since his passing; he was the only one who understood her predisposition of magic, as he shared it. Absentmindedly thumbing at the worn cloth, her light chocolate eyes skimmed towards the altar again as Sisters began to file in front of it, positioning themselves to make two rows.
Leliana's warm red hair made her unmistakable and prominent next to the other Sisters. She held a lute in her graceful hands and took a posting to the far left of the row of Sisters, closest to Bethany; another woman with a lute took up her posting to the far right of the rows. Warm sapphires met liquid chocolate and Bethany felt that familiar feeling of her insides warming and her heart kicking into gear. Leliana gave the mage a warm smile, almost a smirk, her eyes welcoming and holding a slight mischievousness.
Long fingers dancing gracefully across the strings, Leliana began strumming the lute, the other sister barely managing to keep up with the redhead. As one, the Sisters began to sing a verse from the Chant of Light, but the rest of the women were unnecessary noise to the mage. Her ears could focus only on that accented, lilting, musical voice, sweeter than any music Bethany had ever heard.
Feeling an elbow dig into her side, Bethany looked over at Marian, meeting bright blue eyes that held mischief as they flicked between the mage and the Orlesian, her lips smirking widely. "Bethany, is it just me, or is Sister Leliana devouring you with her eyes? You were out very late with her last night." Bethany's sibling arched an eyebrow suggestively; Marian didn't have to conclude the sentence to communicate what she thought that Bethany had been doing with Leliana. Her words irritated the mage slightly. Bethany had already had this conversation once today, and once was enough for her; Carver and Marian had such similar thoughts sometimes.
Blushing deeply, the mage flicked her gaze back to the redhead, finding the Orlesian smiling as she continued singing, her brilliant sapphires locked onto Bethany's with a strange mixture of mischief and something Bethany couldn't quite place. Feigning ignorance, Bethany focused on the Orlesian's fingers, dancing across the strings, so that she wouldn't have to look at the Sister or Marian. "We just spoke. I don't see what has you and Carver so interested. And I don't see what you mean; she's just…looking around. She's not even looking at me."
The eldest Hawke sibling scoffed slightly, but when she looked away from Bethany and back to the Orlesian, her brilliant eyes were skimming the worshippers blankly. Finally daring to look back up at the Sister's face, Bethany found that Leliana had dropped her quite obvious stare and was looking about the room, as if she had heard the exchange that had just passed between Marian and Bethany and averted her gaze on purpose. Marian lost interest with a sigh when she noted that Leliana had looked away innocently, the Orlesian's sapphires taking to looking about at the villagers gathered in the pews.
As soon as Marian averted her eyes, Leliana focused on Bethany again and winked just as the song ended, grinning widely before filing away with the rest of the Sisters.
The Revered Mother took their place in front of the altar and began saying something about praising Blessed Andraste, but the words were lost on the mage; her mind was far away, lost in thoughts of the Orlesian and brimming with anticipation for the next time that she would speak to the redhead.