Ferelden:
Hope is the Thing with Feathers
She woke with pine needles in her white-blond hair and an ant crawling across her pale cheek. She brushed it off with a faint grimace and clung to the memory of which direction Faith had been pointing as she got to her feet. She probably should have settled into a brisk walk but the knowledge of what she was headed towards and the memory of the haunted pain in Cullen's voice when he'd finally told her what happened to him in that circle drove her into a determined jog instead.
She hadn't thought to ask how far the tower was from where she'd fallen asleep. She hadn't thought to ask a lot of things. Why did I wake up in the woods instead of in the Circle? Is there a younger version of me in Ostwick? Should I try to change what happened in Kirkwall, at Adamant, or should I not risk changing too much and just start searching for Corypheus? Or Solas? If I found Varric and told him to stay out of the Deep Roads, would he listen? Is there any way to kill Corypheus without having to deal with that blighted dragon of his first? Do I tell my friends the truth when I find them? Would they believe me?
She missed her advisors, official and otherwise, dreadfully. She'd come to rely on their council, their wisdom and their support so heavily that without them she felt like she was missing a limb. Another limb.
Flexing her newly restored hand, Bethana fought the melancholy and worry away. She'd find them again. Things would work out. She refused to allow them to do otherwise.
She avoided thoughts of what she was going to do when she found Solas.
As it turned out, she was not terribly far away from Lake Calenhad. It took her hours instead of days to reach the shore, but those long hours were filled with the worst of her imagination conjuring all the things that might be happening to the younger version of her husband. She knew he'd survived, but she also knew that what was happening would haunt him for the rest of his life. She'd give almost anything to spare him from even a few of those nightmares, so she pushed herself to go faster, farther, until her heartbeat pounded in her ears, every breath wheezed as she pulled it into her aching chest, and even her best rejuvenating spells ceased to help.
"I am so out of shape," she groaned, more convinced than ever that she had somehow gotten thrown into her original, younger body. Before the mage war and the Inquisition she'd never had much cause to run or even walk for long distances. The most she could boast was a great deal of walking up and down the tower stairs. She was a sweaty, gasping mess by the time she stumbled out of the woods and onto the shore of Lake Calenhad.
She didn't have time to collapse the way she wanted too, but Bethana had to stop and just breathe for a few minutes, bent with her hands braced on her knees as she eyed the water and tried to figure out how she was going to get to the tower in the center of it all. The tall structure was awfully foreboding despite the bright late-morning sun, but perhaps that was only because she knew what waited inside.
"Somehow I doubt the templars are just going to let a strange mage stroll into that mess," she muttered to herself. "So not only do I have to get across the water, I have to do it in the middle of the day without being noticed and sneak into the tower afterwards." The templars within were probably incredibly distracted, but 'borrowing' a boat from the nearby village and rowing across still seemed too risky. She couldn't swim that far, especially with how exhausted she already was. That left shape-shifting.
Bethana was not very good at shape-shifting. There had only been time for a couple of lessons begged from Morrigan between the time she found out about the witch's ability to change into animals and the fight with Corypheus after which Morrigan had disappeared to places unknown. She'd practiced on her own but only ever managed one shape- and that only for short periods and only some of the time. Fortunately, that one shape had wings. Unfortunately, if her magic decided to give out on her halfway through the change she would likely die as a horribly misshapen mismatch of animal and human.
That was not how she wanted her great achievement of time-travel to end.
She took her one last deep breath and the ache in her chest finally faded. A couple steps backwards hid her in the shadows of the trees. Maker, please let this work. Please let me be in time to do some good, she prayed silently. Then she closed her eyes and focused on feeding her magic into her memory of the finch, the way it looked, the way it acted, the way it felt to be small and fluttery, covered in feathers and full of curiosity and caution.
When the memory and magic were compressed so tightly inside her that it felt like a warm, solid mass of power near her heart, she switched the direction of her magic and let it flow back out to her limbs. Warmth filled her from her head to her toes until she felt like she was magic rather than flesh and bone. Then she opened her eyes, stretched out her little brown wings, and took off for the tower.
Flying was a marvel. Even doing her best to focus on her goal, Bethana couldn't help but relish the way the wind slid over and under her wings, lifting her up, carrying her onward. She was tired though. Her muscles were tired and her magic was tired, and for a while she wasn't sure she'd make it across the lake.
She made it, in the end, though she very nearly ended her clumsy flight by slamming into the tower wall. She flared her wings frantically and managed just barely to redirect her flight into a nearby sliver of a window. The finch breathed a tiny sigh of relief when the room proved to be empty. A moment later she was standing in her human form again, feeling oddly tall and awkward.
A pained shout from somewhere nearby cut off her attempt to catch her breath again. She breathed a quiet curse and hurried out into the hallway.
There were signs of struggle everywhere, scorch marks and jagged bits of ice that refused to melt, scattered books and belongings, chunks carved out of walls and furniture by the desperate swings of swords and claws, blood on the floor and the stench of charred flesh. The air practically hummed with magic. The Veil felt thin and ragged, more like cheesecloth than a wall between her and the Fade. Beneath it all Bethana couldn't help but notice that the tower wasn't all that different from the Circle where she had grown up. It was too easy to imagine her childhood friends, teachers and protectors left dying in such chaos. The horror of it all made her skin crawl and added desperation to her sprint down the hall towards the sound of fighting.
She skidded to a stop outside another room, her shoulder hitting the doorframe hard in her hurry. Her gaze sought out the threat first: a rage demon loomed over a trio backed into a corner, the latest in a long line of abominations and demons judging by the mess of bodies and scorch marks on the floor. Without thinking Bethana threw out a hand and gripped the beast with the best ice magic she could muster. It made her muscles ache; she remembered all the skills she'd learned over the last thirteen plus years but didn't have any of the magical stamina she'd gained along the way. Her younger body didn't not appreciate being pushed to do so much so fast, but her magic obeyed her will and the rage demon froze mid-roar. The heavy swing of a sword shattered the monster and melting chunks of demon went sliding across the floor in all directions, leaving smoldering black spots wherever they finally stopped.
With the demon out of the way, Bethana found herself face to face with its intended victims- or rather sword to face as the stranger lifted his weapon to ward her off.
"Don't," the templar commanded, his voice strong and fierce despite his obvious exhaustion. His salt and pepper hair was slick with sweat at his temples. His sword wavered even as he braced it with both hands. The resigned determination written in his dark eyes reminded her of the day Haven fell when Cullen believed dying was inevitable and had only sought to die well, to die fighting.
Then something moved behind the templar and that resignation gave way to desperation. Perhaps he not so ready to die after all, Bethana thought. The two mages- young faces, a teenage girl and a boy who looked to be several years younger- peered out from behind their protector. Bethana held her arms down and out at her sides, turning them slowly to show their lack of scars.
"I'm not a blood mage. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help," she said with every ounce of calm she could summon.
The sword pointed at her face wavered again then lowered a little, but the templar's eyes narrowed.
"You aren't part of this circle," he said. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"My name's Bethana. I... was nearby and felt the Veil starting to tear. It seemed like the sort of thing someone should stop," Bethana answered, trying not to wince. She couldn't tell him the truth, of course, but she wished she could have thought of something that sounded more likely than that. She bit back a sigh. "I apparently have a difficult time staying out of other people's problems."
By the look on his face he wasn't sure he believed her, but the tell tale sounds of abominations making their slow, stumbling way down the hall towards them drew his attention away.
A twist of Bethana's hand summoned a rejuvenation and healing spell that sunk into the templar's tired muscles. It was automatic, an ingrained reaction to having an exhausted ally, but Bethana realized she should have warned him as soon as she'd done it. She had to step back quickly when the templar's sword swung at her, though he stilled again when he realized she hadn't done him any harm.
"Sorry," she blurted. "I should have asked-" But then there were a trio of abominations crowding into the doorway and they didn't have time to talk any longer.
She was closest to the door and the monsters lunged for her first. The lightning spell she used scorched her fingertips and threatened to run wild through the room, to strike at her allies as well. She controlled it, but barely.
All right. No more lightning until I get some time to practice, she told herself, trembling in the aftermath. It had been ages since she'd almost hurt someone with poor control. She hated that feeling, the knowledge that she was a threat to people she wanted to protect.
She used ice and fire from then on, and only the simplest, easiest to control spells. Ice slowed the abominations' steps; fire weakened them. It was the templar, though, that destroyed all three in the end. He was strong again, with the aid of her spells, and he had the experience and skill to make the most of it.
"How long have you been fighting these things?" Bethana panted when the creatures were dead at his feet. "How did this even happen?"
"Blood mages," the templar spat. "They turned on the templars, turned on the other mages. They summoned demons to kill anyone who wouldn't join them, then of course they couldn't control the demons or the abominations. Fools." His expression was twisted in hatred and disgust, though it eased into something troubled but less harsh when he turned to check that the kids were untouched. "It happened a while ago; the whole tower is like this. I don't even know if there's anyone else left alive."
"There has to be," Bethana said, knowing full well that there was at least one other survivor. "We should look for them. If there is any chance that there are others alive, we have to try. They might need our help. We certainly need theirs. It isn't safe to stay here," she added when the templar gave her a look that clearly doubted her sanity. "And the more of us there are, the better chance we have of surviving, right?" The templar frowned at her, weighing her words- weighing her.
"We'll die if we go out there," the youngest apprentice, the boy, protested in a tearful voice that trembled so much that it was hard to make out his words. "Everyone else is d-dead. I don't want to die too. Please. I don't want to die too."
The teenage girl bit her lip, but she wrapped her arms around the boy to quiet his protests. He clung to her; she lifted her chin bravely when the templar's gaze sought out her own. "I want to know. If they're not all dead- I want to know. I don't want to stand around in this- this graveyard, just waiting..."
The templar sighed and stared down at his bloodied sword and the mess of bodies around them.
"I'll help you keep them safe. I'll do everything in my power," Bethana promised quietly. At long last the templar nodded wearily.
"Very well. Perhaps we must. But you'll listen to me. If we're going to survive this we have to be smart."
"All right," Bethana agreed. Despite his insistence on being in charge, he motioned her through the doorway first. Fair enough, she thought. He has no reason to trust me at his back or with the kids. It felt more natural leading anyways, though she followed his directions without complaint when he gave them.
"What are your names?" she asked quietly when they were on their way. There was silence and for a moment she thought she wouldn't get an answer.
"Erik," the templar said somewhat grudgingly.
"I'm Flura," the teenager added. "And this is Trum."
"I am glad to meet you," Bethana said. And terribly glad that you were alive to meet.
They didn't say much else as they walked aside from quiet orders from the templar to pause or turn. A few times they had to duck into other rooms to avoid monsters. Usually such tactics worked, and Bethana took every opportunity to check the rooms over for badly-needed potions and supplies. She had her staff with her but little else. Her younger self had certainly not been prepared for a journey let alone a long string of battles.
Sometimes they were unable to avoid the demons and abominations and had to fight their way through, but the monsters traveled in small groups that Bethana and Erik managed to handle, though not entirely without injury.
Then they reached the stairs and ran into a different problem.
"What are you doing?" Erik demanded- though he was careful to keep his voice down- when Bethana headed for the stairs leading up to the next floor. "We need to go down. If there's any chance of us getting out of the tower alive, we need to head for the door."
Bethana froze. She couldn't tell him that Cullen was upstairs. She wasn't even sure how she knew that because she couldn't remember him telling her that detail, but she was certain of it all the same.
"But we have to go up," she said, scrambling inwardly for a reason that might convince him. "Can't you feel that? The shift in magic- someone's used a cleanse up there recently." It was easy enough to keep her expression earnest- the desperation behind it was real enough after all, even if the explanation was nonsense. She could feel the effects of the cleanses and smites that templars used certainly, but not at any great distance and only immediately before or after they were used. "There's someone alive, a templar up there. We have to go up." Erik only eyed her suspiciously, and her desperation deepened. He was right to doubt her, but she needed to go up there, and the fact that he refused to listen sparked rebellion within her. "I'm going up," she said at last. Her chin lifted a fraction. "Do what you want."
"But we're supposed to stay together!" Flura protested worriedly when Bethana turned and started up the stairs.
The fear in the girl's voice washed over her like ice water and her feet paused on the steps. Bethana closed her eyes and made herself take a slow breath. What am I doing? she wanted, needed to reach Cullen but... he would survive without her, she knew he would. The other three had almost certainly died the first time around. Could she really leave them behind?
"You're right," Bethana said. She forced herself to turn around. "I won't leave you. I promise I won't. But please, I really do believe there's someone alive up there- someone who probably needs our help."
She couldn't read Erik's expression at all, and when his silence continued she swallowed the knot of emotion in her throat and stepped down off the stairs.
"All right," the templar said. Her bowed head jerked up so she could stare at him. He didn't look pleased, but he nodded towards the stairs. "If you're so certain, we'll go up."