"It seems secure here," the elf said.

Bethany gestured to her bed. "Sit, please. I wish I had a chair or a table, or…"

The elf nodded, the mop on his head bobbing. He sat at the foot, and she settled on her pillow at the head as gracefully as she could manage, though her bottom wobbled.

"There's much to be said for clean surroundings," the elf said.

She didn't intend her laugh to sound quite so bitter. "That's one thing this place has over Gamlen's shack."

"And security. Though that security counts for little these days."

"I gather you feel much better with me locked away."

"I suppose I deserve that."

"Suppose? You suppose?" She drew in a deep breath. "No, I wasn't going to do this. Tell me, why did you really come? You've never exactly been fond of me, as I recall."

"I have nothing against you, Bethany. You're a kind woman and one of the rare mages who can handle her power properly."

"Ah, I see: you have problems with every other mage on Thedas, and you don't with me because Lyssie would have your hide. Even if you can't bother to spell her name properly."

"She did have my hide years ago." The elf smiled. "Tell me, how does one spell 'Lysandra' correctly? Andra hasn't had much time to work with me on my writing lately."

"'Work with you?' You almost sound as if she's teaching you!"

The elf looked away. "Slaves aren't permitted to read."

Her cheeks burned. "Oh… I'm sorry. I just… When you talked to that Arishok, I just expected that you… I'm making a right fool of myself, aren't I? You said Lyssie yelled at you about me? When was this?"

"You wished to have a laugh at my expense?" The elf smiled, his huge green eyes oddly friendly. "Andra would as well. She came to me in tears the night after you were taken to the Circle, not to talk, but to borrow a room."

Borrow a room? "Why would Lyssie do that?"

"She needed a place to cry, she said, where your uncle and your mother wouldn't hear her. I badgered her at length to find out what happened, and when I finally got it out of her… She wasn't happy that I was… relieved."

She heard that deep voice hiss viper. "Relieved."

"She wasn't exactly what one might call understanding. She yelled at me for what felt like hours, but I'd listen to years of her yelling if I never had to see her…" He swallowed and looked away again. "Not that I've been successful, or that I haven't contributed to her… pain myself."

"She lives in our family estate, coin and finery everywhere, lauded to the four winds by every last person in Kirkwall. You say she hurts? How can she hurt?"

"That's what you think?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

The elf's lip twitched. "No, you would have no other way of knowing, would you?"

"If you're going to say something, just say it!"

The elf's deep laugh took her by surprise. "You're more like her than you believe. Have you never asked yourself what Andra would want, if she'd ever been given a choice?"

"What?" A sudden heat rushed to her cheeks and her stomach shrank in on itself.

"Most haven't. Most never even think to ask the question. I did once, but I never got a true answer. I don't believe she knows it herself."

"I... never thought of it either." She forced the admission out; if she hadn't, it would have chewed its way through her throat with pure bile. "Maybe I should have years ago."

The elf shook his head. "Perhaps the meaning I intended was lost in my musing. I'd only hoped to have you remember what Andra was like before I met you."

"All right… She was my everything. Another mother, my best friend. Maker, she was my only friend until we settled in Lothering. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"She's changed very little, then." The elf smiled, and seemed lost in a memory. "As I thought."

The elf had seemed far more direct years ago, but Lysandra must have rubbed off on him more than she'd guessed. She cleared her throat and the elf's eyes focused.

"People change," she said. "It's been six years since I've spent more than five minutes with her."

"So you claim. She has changed less than you imagine. Did she ever tell you what she truly thought of that dwarf's expedition?"

"You mean to the Deep Roads? No."

"She never wished to embark on the expedition. She considered it dishonorable, and would have preferred to… What was it she said? 'Wash some noblewoman's dainties in Denerim?'"

"She never said anything. I guess I always thought she wished what Mother and I did. Well, what Mother did. I can still only dream about fine dresses and mansions. Perhaps it's good that one of us still enjoys the dream."

"'Enjoys' isn't the word I'd choose. If you hadn't guessed, she despises your family's estate. She rattles around inside it, a single woman in a mansion that should house twenty. Your dog, the dwarf, and his son are the only things that keep her from going mad when she leaves my home, which has been less and less frequently as of late." The elf's smile turned faintly wicked, and her stomach lurched in response.

"She hates the estate? After all that work we did for it?"

"Did you honestly expect otherwise?" The elf scratched his head, and the flash of red fabric set her heaving stomach ablaze. She flinched. "I seem to have offended you. If so, I apologize."

"No, not you. At least, not with this."

He half-smiled. "And you won't enlighten me. Andra didn't, not that she was in any condition to tell me anything."

"What do you mean, 'she wasn't in any condition?'"

"She mourns you, Bethany, just as she mourns your mother."

"That's ridiculous! I'm perfectly alive right now, thank you."

The elf's laugh startled her. "I never said it wasn't ridiculous. She blames herself for your imprisonment just as she blames herself for your mother's death."

"That's…"

"Ridiculous, I know. So is thinking that life in the Circle is similar to death."

"I was going to say, what Mother must have done. She blamed Lyssie for Carver's death, even though she was halfway across the clearing when he threw himself at the ogre. I was closer… I... And Mother's death—how could she know?"

"She couldn't. I was with her, and even your mother told her she wasn't to blame. Haven't you noticed your sister listens to the wrong words?"

"You were there when Mother died?" Of course he would be, if Lysandra had been. The elf was a permanent fixture in her sister's life. More of a fixture than I have been. "Tell me, what happened? Gamlen broke the news, but he told me nothing."

"Are you sure you wish to hear this? Your mother's death was far from clean."

"I… Yes. I have to know."

"We came upon your mother after our investigations led us to a hidden passageway beneath the foundry where we found those women's remains. A mage…" The elf spat the last word out with his customary venom, "had stitched a horror together out of the parts he'd salvaged from the dead women, and he sought to recreate his wife in that shambling nightmare. Your mother…"

"Maker's breath!" She gasped the words out as the world spun. She couldn't inhale.

"You guess the nature of the true horror, then. Yes, your mother's head had been attached to that thing, and her spirit had been bound within it."

"You killed him. You and Lyssie had better have killed him!"

"He didn't have an easy death."

She nodded, not that his words steadied her head any. Nor did they lend her assurance or any words of her own.

"Your mother's last words to Andra after we'd destroyed the mage and all his demon summons were, 'You've always made me so proud,' after she very specifically told Andra, 'don't fret, darling.' Not that those words would make her stop." The elf's laugh turned bitter. "I suppose you know how it is."

"And why would I…? Oh."

"Self-blame appears to be a Hawke family trait."

Her own laugh matched the elf's in bitterness. "We must have learned that from Father. Did you know Lyssie found his journal after his death? She hid it from Mother after she read his constant regrets for what our magic put Mother through. He risked everything to be with her and she with him, but he still felt horrible. Mother was never sorry, and Lyssie couldn't bear to have her read it. Eventually, she burned it."

"That sounds very much like Andra."

She fiddled with her fingers and tented them in her lap. She hoped the motion would drive the sudden twisting in her stomach away and cool the heat in her cheeks. "Maybe."

The elf said nothing as he watched her intently from the other end of her cot. He waited, much as he'd done in one of his early scuffles with Lysandra, a scuffle he'd won by his very patience. She knew what he waited for—an admission of what bothered here—but she was damned if she would give it to him. The staring became a heavy, palpable thing, a demon presence that thickened the air until she choked. He, of course, seemed as calm and unmoved as always. She twisted her fingers in her lap, then twined and untwined them until the elf broke.

"Tell me what offended you when Andra and I visited."

She sighed. "I'll just sound like a petty fool."

The elf's smile seemed almost sweet, almost reassuring. "Bethany, 'petty' is not a word I'd associate with you."

"Was that something nice you just said? About me?"

The elf's laughter took her aback. "I've never thought ill of you, just of the magic you wield. I've met one mage strong enough to handle her power."

She huddles by the fire and nothing stops the shivering. Lysandra slips in beside her. The elf had engaged her in a long debate about magic, rife with his endless, pointed questions about the Circle, and why she should be the exception to the Chantry's imprisonment of mages.

"You need to stop bringing him with us, sis. I can't take him anymore!"

"He's a better fighter than Aveline, Beth. I need both of them; I can't take down enemies as quickly as he can, and I don't have a prayer of holding swarms off you."

"There's 'Bela. Or Varric."

"Not the dwarf! Besides, he can't hold a blade to save his life, and Isabela has all my weaknesses in combat."

"You just like looking at him."

Lysandra turns a brighter red than the flames that crackle before them. "Maybe a little. Take it easy on him, Beth. He's been through things you and I can't even imagine. He talks a good game, but we can trust him."

"Of course we can trust him." Lysandra smiles at her joke-that-really-isn't.

"Really, Beth. Beneath all the bitterness is a good man who's been battered and mauled worse than one of Boy's chew-toys."

"You're not the one he's insulting!"

"I know." Her sisters arms feel welcome, but they aren't enough. "Still, you're the only one who can convince him to widen his perspective. You're making some headway, you know. He doesn't scowl at you anymore."

Those words are small comfort as Lysandra joins her in staring into the flames.

"Lyssie's loved you for a long time. Longer than you think."

"I know. I wish I had proven myself worthy of that love."

She cracked a smile, though it felt like chiseling through marble. "The scarf she gave you… Well, I made it for her birthday years ago. It was the first thing I ever hemmed right, and probably the last."

The elf returned her smile, though something else lingered beneath it. What it was, she couldn't guess. "I asked for it, Bethany. When I did, she… It seemed as if her whole world had come crashing down around her."

"You asked her for it?"

"I… had no right after I walked out on her, but…"

She waited as the elf's voice trailed off, though he remained silent. "But what?"

He traced the scarf's length with one gauntleted finger. "She wore this the first time she visited me. I wanted a part of her so she'd remain forever in memory, even if I didn't have the courage to stay with her. She smiled when she tied it around my wrist, and that bereft look vanished."

"You love her, but you left her?"

"I… Yes, as a lover."

"You and Lyssie suit each other well."

The elf smiled. "Yes, I believe so."

"I mean it. You're both completely and utterly mad! Lunatics! Insane!"

The smile widened, and the elf actually laughed. "Perhaps. Perhaps I understand her better for my own 'lunacy.' I understand how it is to abandon one you love because your courage fails you."

"She faced down the Arishok! Don't tell me she's not brave."

"I have said no such thing. Andra's accomplished amazing things against odds that most would find daunting, at the very least. Now, she's off wandering through Sundermount graveyards to keep the blood mage from destroying everything. Not only has she freed Kirkwall from the Qunari, she's freed me."

"You mean that beast who enslaved you is dead? Good!"

"And a trail of hunters, his apprentice…" The elf's lips twitched upward.

"You're telling me Lyssie can kill anything and anyone, but coming to visit is too hard?"

"There's more than one kind of strength and one kind of courage. She takes up the burdens of any who need her, but she can never lean on another when her burdens become too much for her to bear. Facing failure, or what she thinks of as failure, isn't always as simple as one might think."

"She didn't fail!"

"Perhaps you should enlighten her."

"I don't think she's too likely to visit me after what I said."

The elf leaned toward her, his eyes intent. "You regret saying those words?"

"I… Yes. How am I supposed to tell her I'm sorry? I didn't…"

"Then you understand how she feels."

"I suppose." Not that "understanding" felt much better.

"I doubt Andra wishes an apology. I left her floundering and alone for three years, but she asked for nothing more than an explanation."

"Are you ever going to tell me why you're doing this?"

"I needed something to do while Andra sees to the blood mage." The elf's half-smile warmed her a little, though part of her wanted to throw a ball of energy into his gut.

"Ugh, you're worse than Lyssie!"

"A sister for a sister," he said, and fell silent.

"Far worse. Maker's breath!"

"She stopped me from making a mistake…" She listened in horror as the elf told his story of betrayal and, ultimately, freedom.

"Your own sister! She makes Lyssie look like a saint. I… You've given me a lot to think about, Fenris."

"I should leave. It's been a pleasant chat, Bethany." The elf stood and reached for his massive sword.

"Wait! Don't go yet; I have something to show you."

The elf raised an eyebrow.

"If you're going to be enjoying my sister, I can at least show you how to write her name."