It got a lot worse.

By the time Cullen and Bethany reached the docks, the weather had turned nasty. As a result, the trip across the harbour was very rough… and Cullen was prone to seasickness. He attempted to control the dizziness and rapidly rising nausea by keeping his mouth firmly closed and his eyes rained on the mage opposite him.

Unfortunately for Cullen, Bethany had noticed his predicament and, in a fit of pique, decided to do all she could to aggravate his condition. Realizing that the templar was using her as an anchoring point, Bethany began to rock slowly from side to side, while commenting on how rough the sea was.

"Knight-Captain, are you sure you're all right?" Bethany asked with wide-eyed concern and an entirely too-innocent-to-be-believed smile. "You're looking rather green."

"I am perfectly fine, Miss Hawke," Cullen ground out. "Thank you for your concern." He refused to let this mage get the better of him. If he showed her any weakness, no doubt she'd exploit it for her own gain. Mages were like that. Templars needed to be strong at all times in order to maintain control.

"I'm glad to hear it," Bethany replied sweetly. She knew what she was doing was childish, but considering what this man was doing to her, she refused to feel guilty about it. Why should I make this easy for him?


Knight-Commander Meredith was the most intimidating person Bethany had ever met. She was so rigid and unyielding that she appeared even taller than she actually was. Her eyes were cold, hard, unforgiving, and completely unreadable. Bethany tried hard to maintain eye contact, to show the templar leader that she was not afraid, but she couldn't do it. And, truthfully, she was afraid of Meredith. Meredith was everything people had said whe was, and more – all of it bad. Varric would never need exaggerate about her.

"Youre Bethany Hawke, correct?" Meredith asked in her cool, clipped voice. "An apostate, like your father?"

"Yes, ma'am," Bethany replied, trying not to betray her sudden flash of anger at the older woman's contemptuous reference to Bethany's father.

"I see," the Knight-Commander said. She tapped her fingers on the heavy wooden surface of her desk. She glared at Bethany as if the mage were an abomination already. "And you came here from Ferelden?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you spend any time at the Circle there?"

"No, ma'am."

"Surely you knew you'd be caught eventually? Why didn't you declare yourself sooner?"

"I wanted to spend as much time with my family as possible."

"You were selfish in other words," Meredith snapped. "You put others at risk for the sake of your own comfort."

Bethany opened her mouth to argue, to say that she had done no such thing, but then closed it with an audible snap when she saw the almost maniacal glint in the other woman's eye. She's goading me! She wants me to snap before I even have a chance at a Harrowing. She wants me tranquil and out of the way.

"I… I guess I was."

"Hmmph," Meredith snorted. "Cullen, take her to Orsino."

"Yes, Kinght-Commander."


Orsino was everything Bethany thought a First Enchanter should be; he was intelligent, kind, and thoughtful. He also lacked that aura of malevolence that surrounded Meredith, which was a blessing in itself. After he had been introduced to Bethany, the First Enchanter gave her a long, thoughtful look.

"Have you had any formal training in magic at all?" he asked.

"No, serah,, the only teacher I ever had was my father," Bethany replied. "He taught me everything he knew. He did spend some time in the Circle before he and my mother eloped, though."

Orsino smiled at the wistful tone Bethany adopted when speaking of her parents, then sighed. "Normally, when an adult mage arrives at the Gallows I would evaluate their level of skill and education before determining a suitable time for a Harrowing. However, in her infinite wisdom, Knight-Commander Meredith has decided that it should be the other way around."

"She wants us to fail," Bethany said quietly. "That way she can just kill us. What's one more dead mage to her?"

Cullen gave a sharp cough, not because he disagreed with what Bethany had said, exactly, but because it was a dangerous topic for the mages to be discussing, especially her.

"Yes, well… moving on," Orsino said. "Your harrowing will be tomorrow morning, Bethany, after breakfast."

"What?!" Bethany cried. "Tomorrow?" Orsino nodded, his green eyes full of sympathy.

"I'm sorry, child," he said, "but my hands are tied, as they say. Knight-Captain Cullen will be overseeing your harrowing and taking the necessary steps should you fail. Not that I think you will. I have confidence; you would not have lasted very long as an apostate if you were weak-willed."

Bethany was pleased with the First Enchanter's vote of confidence, but could not help giving the Knight-Captain a glance that was part worried resignation and part 'haven't you done enough?'.

The templar was as inscrutable as ever.


Betahny's first night in the Gallows was a restless one. Because she was undergoing her harrowing the next day, she was given a private room. It was not much bigger than a closet, and it it felt very claustrophobic. The air was hot and stale, and smelt like dirty socks. Perhaps it had been a closet.

She never thought she'd miss living in her Uncle's hovel, but she did. She missed falling asleep to the sound of her mother's gentle snoring, or giggling with Elinor in the darkness. She even missed the thought of being woken up in the morning by the family of rats that lived in their ceiling.

By the time the clocks struck midnight, she'd long since given up on sleep. With a pang of nostalgia, she remembered the nights spent playing Wicked Grace at the Hanged Man. On those nights, she and Elinor were only just getting home at midnight - if they'd had bad luck.

She tried counting sheep, counting backwards, and every relaxation exercise she could think of, to no avail. At the rate things were going, she'd fail her harrowing because a sloth demon offered her a good night's sleep!

Bethany's thoughts turned to the harrowing. Mages were forbidden from talking about the ritual with unharrowed apprentices. Her father once told her it was to prevent unsuitable or ill-prepared people from attempting a harrowing on their own.

Thoughts of failure weighed heavily on Bethany. At first, she had been irritated by the knowledge that it would be Cullen running her through if she failed, but now she was grateful. It could have been a lot worse. Other templars seemed to revel in the misery they caused, and delighted in tormenting the mages of the Circle. They lived for the authority they lorded over the vulnerable, especially in Kirkwall, where the Order trod heavily through the corridors of power.

But not Cullen.

In all her family's dealings with the Knight-Captain, the templar had shown himself to be an honourable man. He was always polite, if a little aloof, and treated them with respect. He was stern, and rigid, with an unwavering sense of duty, and a fondness for rules and regulations.

His one big flaw was a lack of mercy and compassion where mages were concerned, though even that was tempered by the fact that he was never deliberately cruel or unkind, just dedicated to the Order. And he never rejoiced in having to kill a mage either.

Perhaps he thought the Circle was the only mercy that could be shown to a mage.

Either way, Bethany gained some comfort from knowing that if Cullen did have to kill her, at least he wouldn't do a happy dance afterwards. As she finally drifted into a light sleep, she couldn't help wondering if, once upon a time, his beautiful blue eyes had been as kind as Ser Thrask's.


Even in the Fade, Bethany's robe itched. She frowned and scratched her shoulders while looking around at the washed-out scenery. It felt like she had been here for years, and it was difficult maintaining a positive outlook, despite already resisting the offers of a sloth and a pride demon.

The sloth demon was the easier of the two to deal with – it had promised restful slumber, free of dreams of unobtainable things. The offer was appealing, but considering acceptance meant Cullen's sword through her stomach, it quickly lost its charms.

The pride demon was defeated by Bethany's lack of ego. She had always shared her mother's humility. She knew she was a good mage, but did not feel the need to seek vindication, recognition, or approval from others. Carver had the ego in the Hawke family, and Elinor had self-confidence enough for everyone.

Bethany walked until she came to a small clearing. The surroundings were particularly distorted here, and the air shimmered and smelled wrong. There was a faint rustling sound, and a desire demon rose up from the earth. It smiled seductively and ran its hands over its purple-tinged skin.

"Hello there, dear mortal," she said in a husky voice that sounded as if two people were speaking simultaneously. "My name is Voluptas. May I speak with you a while? I do so love the company of mages."

Bethany shivered and grasped her staff. Desire demons were the worst. "No, thank you," she said, voice firm. Her father had taught her early on that confidence and fearlessness were essential when dealing with demons, desire demons in particular. They could sense weakness and were ruthless in exploiting it. "There is nothing you can offer me that I'd accept, demon!"

"My, my," taunted Voluptas, waving her tail languidly through the air, "such confidence from such a young woman. I can see there's no possible way to trick you." The demon grinned wickedly and licked her lips.

Bethany raised her staff, but she was too slow…


A/N – if my memory serves me well, Voluptas is Latin for 'pleasure', and was the name of Eros and Psyche's daughter.