The courtyard could almost pass for pleasant in the shade if one averted one's eyes from the looming shackled and pained slaves whose suffering rained down upon the Gallows' occupants. Bethany seldom looked up, and today she had company to distract her from the pain they'd etched into every surface here. She gestured to the lowest step on the staircase leading to the Templar Hall. The stonework beneath her feet had been expertly cut and buffed, holding up generations of mage feet, likely by the same slaves bound and forever immortalized in bronze by the Tevinters. Lysandra's shudder caught her off guard; her sister had once dealt easily with Solivitus.

"Here, Beth?"

"Why not?"

"I…"

"We've spent a fair amount of time here recently," Fenris said, "and much of that time was rather unpleasant."

She sat and Lysandra joined her with a grimace. The rumors were true, then: her sister had worked for the Knight-Commander. Fenris sank like fluid beside Lysandra and draped a protective arm about her. Maker, these elves are graceful!

"You're grimacing, Bethany," he said.

"I hope the Knight-Commander rewarded you well."

"What?" Lysandra's jaw flopped open.

"I should have known the stories were true. Oh, Maker, Lyssie! How much did she give you to kill those apostates?"

"You really think I had a choice? Kirkwall's falling apart because of that horrid witch, and Orsino's not helping any!"

"You've always had a choice, Lyssie. Always."

"My 'choice' was to let you rot here and get taken down when some ridiculous conspiracy upsets the entire Circle or hunt who that damned Templar dictator 'requested' me to. One was a blood mage who killed his wife and drained her life. Do you really think such a beast should go free?"

"You did this to protect me? Are you mad?"

"Maker's breath," Lysandra muttered. "It was a mistake to return. I should have left well enough alone, knowing you were safe."

"Andra." Fenris held her sister down when she attempted to stand.

"This isn't working, and I don't know how to fix it." Lysandra stared at her shoes. "Just like everything else."

"Before you run off again and leave me for six years, I want to know why you didn't take me with you when you left for the Deep Roads."

She tried to find a hint of her sister's old defiance, but Lysandra's eyes had clenched into twin lines, and her knuckles whitened as she balled her fists. "Mother. After Carver, I couldn't… I couldn't risk your life and fail you the way I…"

Oh, Maker. Fenris was right, wasn't he?

"And just how were you supposed to stop Carver when he was being a boastful idiot?"

"I… Mother…"

"Right, well, while you're blaming yourself for things you couldn't have stopped, you just left me, waiting."

"I wouldn't wish the Deep Roads on anyone, Beth, especially not you. Did Mother ever tell you we were betrayed?"

"She never said a word."

"Flames! I never told her, did I? Well, I suppose it's best she didn't know. Who knows what she would have done to Varric?"

Fenris chuckled. "Perhaps you should have told your mother."

"No, she'd have hunted down Bartrand, and not that…"

"Damned dwarf," Fenris said, a faint smile on his lips.

Lysandra smirked beneath pained eyes. "Beth, the Deep Roads are awful. Dark, claustrophobic, and reeking everywhere of abandonment and darkspawn spew. You know how long we were gone—imagine being so deep, it takes you a week to return to the surface… I was going mad before we'd even been underground three days! If I'd been able to guess what we'd face down there, I'd have sent Varric packing with a shoe up his arse the day we met him!"

"That still doesn't tell me why. You can't have left me behind because of Mother!"

"I can't? Beth… It would have been easier to have you with me. At least I would have had one more person to keep me from going mad. Maker, if it hadn't been for Fenris, I'd have probably thrown myself unarmored at an ogre!"

"Instead you took Merrill."

"And regretted every moment of it," Fenris said with a small laugh. "If Andra didn't, I did."

"Did you really?" A strange vision danced in her head of the tiny blood mage throwing gouts of red at an ogre as it swept her up in its grasp and began to squeeze.

Her sister cracked a tiny, unconvincing smile. "A little."

"Andra."

The smile turned into a laugh. "All right, a lot. Did you know she can't heal? She never learned. I've always wondered what the Dalish did when they were hurt with a Keeper-in-training who never learned the art. Do you know what was worse? I tried to talk to her, but she shied away and stuck to that damned dwarf like I was the plague. So much for getting to know my new 'friend.'"

"The rest of your company could have had something to do with it," she said. "When it comes to gluing, Lyssie, you always…"

"Likely," he said.

"Are you saying she hated me because of Fenris?" Maker, she's daft sometimes!

"I wasn't too fond of you when you defended him."

"I…"

"You took up the torch for me?" The elf seemed almost flattered.

"Too often." She shot the elf a look, and to his credit, he half-smiled back. "Any time I complained about you, it was, 'Think of what he's gone through. You have to suffer because of it, but I'm not going to stop bringing him along.'"

Lysandra's brow shot skyward. "I never said…"

"No, you were much more gentle about it, the way Mother was. Andraste's hind-end, Lyssie, you can guilt-trip with the best of them!"

Lysandra burst out laughing. "Well, this is the second time I've been compared to Mother, even though you look just like her. Fenris claims I smile like her, and that I have 'fire' or something. I… Dear Andraste, I…" The laughter faded in the wake of a droplet that leaked from the corner of her eye. "I miss her."

The elf tucked a few strands of red behind Lysandra's ear and took her hand.

"Still, Lyssie? I stopped crying years ago." Two years before, and though she still felt faint echoes of the pain, much of it had faded.

"I…"

"You understand little, then," Fenris said.

"What's there to understand? Mother's dead and no tears are going to change that. I remember her, and I miss her, but moaning about her death changes nothing."

"I recall a certain mage gasping in horror when she was told how her mother had died," he said.

"Yes, but…" No, that shock still was fresh, though the missing had eased.

"But I should have saved her," Lysandra said. "If I hadn't been running errands for the Viscount and the Arishok, and Maker knows who else… If I'd just paid attention…"

"Instead, you should have been doing Aveline's job for her."

"Aveline had no idea…"

"No, of course not," the elf said. "Blaming yourself is as productive as blaming the Captain of the Guard, except that it's her job to bring killers to justice."

Lysandra's strained smile as she stared at the elf spoke of an exchange rehashed to the point of nausea.

"You blame Aveline, Fenris?" she asked. She'd always thought the two got on well together, but perhaps their cooperation had only been due to her sister's influence.

"I blame the mage and the magic he was cursed with." Always magic. Always.

"Magic is the root of all evil," Lysandra said and the elf laughed.

"True."

She took a deep breath and steeled herself; she wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "Lyssie, what do you want?"

"What do you mean?" At least confusion wiped most of the pain from the set of her sister's forehead.

"Fenris said, well, that you never wanted the estate. What did you want?"

"The estate was for you, Beth. And for Mother."

"That doesn't answer my question. What did you want then, and what do you want now?"

"I... I wanted to fight those Templars, Beth. I wanted to run with you and make sure you stayed free. I wanted to go home with you and Mother, even if home wasn't Lothering anymore. I don't know. Denerim. Redcliffe. Somewhere where there's a little brown, and a chill in the air. I wanted you to be safe and happy, not locked away forever in some renamed prison!"

"And now?"

"To go home. Peace and quiet, a chance to breathe without being haunted by Mother's face, and Carver's shattered body. And your face when I left for the Deep Roads, and when the Templars took you away."

"You blame yourself for the Templars? Maker, Lyssie! It was my own stupid fault I was caught, not yours."

"How were you caught?" the elf asked.

She snorted. "Mother was going on and on about how she missed you and hoped you were safe, and Gamlen was poking at her. 'When are you leaving, Leandra? Isn't that daughter of yours supposed to be back by now with enough coin to buy all of Kirkwall?' I got so sick of it all that I needed to get away. I should have gone to the Hanged Man and lost at cards to 'Bela, but instead, I went walking around the alienage. I'd never been deep inside it before, and the chattering of the elves sounded so nice! You know, no fighting, no snide comments, just the banter of friends. I should have gotten Aveline, maybe, when I walked by an alley and heard a scuffle. But, well…"

"You took them on?" Lysandra asked. "Oh, Beth!"

"Well, the boy and girl would have died if I'd hesitated! Instead, I froze the three thugs, and set them on fire. The children ran off, but I suppose they must have been the ones to summon a Templar. Do you know, those thugs got off scot-free?" She couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "Figures, doesn't it? I'd always wondered if the Maker had a sense of humor, and now I know for sure he does."

"Hm. Maybe the Deep Roads would have been better than being trapped for weeks with Gamlen."

"You're not going to tell me how stupid I was?"

"You're just like Father, charging in to the rescue, no matter the cost."

"A Hawke trait," Fenris said, and without his usual trace of irony.

"Do you have to do that?" Her gut clenched.

"Do what?"

"After you blamed yourself for years, you're just going ignore my idiocy? Maker's breath, Lyssie, you drive me mad!"

"What do you think of me that you'd ask that? No, never mind. I know what you think, and I probably deserve it."

"I used to wish to be just like you," she said, "strong and kind, lethal with a knife. I wanted to be able to protect us as you and Father did, instead of being the reason we needed protection in the first place!"

"So you've learned how delusional you were," Lysandra said. "Especially in calling me 'strong.' Do you really think I'd yell at you for saving children? I can't say I'd have done differently in your shoes, except I'd likely have gotten myself killed."

"I guess I've grown up." She fiddled with the folds in her robe as she tried to figure out what to say.

"I… I'm sorry, Beth. I should have taken you with us."

"It's better you didn't if it's as dreadful as you say."

"I cost you your freedom, even if you claim otherwise." Lysandra did her own fiddling, tracing Fenris' nails with a fingertip. "I can't ever make up for that."

"What is freedom, Lyssie? I wasn't free as an apostate, just as Father wasn't. We were always on the run, always hiding, always poor, cut off from knowledge! You and Carver could go wherever you wanted, but I was stuck indoors until I could hide what I was."

Fenris' comprehension startled her. He'd been the one urging her to the Circle, even when she'd resented the thought of the Gallows. You can see what I am. Lie to yourself if you must. His words to Aveline and her truth weren't so different, were they?

"You and Carver and Mother all suffered because of what I was, and what Father was. You're free now, Lyssie, just as Mother should have been all those years."

"So you think." Her sister's bitter laugh mirrored her thoughts. "Free to be shoved back and forth between sets of lunatics. Orsino and Meredith both have me doing their dirty work as they avoid their own showdown and the Grand Cleric will do nothing to shut either of them up. Free to exterminate the Dalish, and wander around sewers scraping up nonsense ingredients for our resident madman… Free to have the city looking to me to solve what can only be cleansed with flame."

The elf's laugh took her aback. "The Knight-Commander is the only one keeping the madmen at bay."

"If you call massive conspiracies to oust her 'keeping the madmen at bay,'" Lysandra said.

"The First Enchanter is a good man!"

"I don't know if I'd go that far, but Meredith makes him look like the voice of reason."

That answer was pure Lysandra, and she couldn't help her laugh. "What's this sewer scraping you were doing?"

"Oh, Maker, I don't know. Anders isn't… well, he isn't doing so well. He lied to me about why he needed said scrapings, and had me distract the Grand Cleric while he… I don't know, put sand in her panties? Stole a 'priceless relic' from her collection?"

"That's odd."

"'Odd' is too kind a word for the abomination."

"What would he want with sewer leavings?"

"He claimed it was a potion to separate Justice from him, but it seems the spirit has gotten stronger. Maybe he's making something to cure Tranquility. I don't know."

"And you're not going to find out?"

"Not if he has his way. All he'll say now is, 'You'll see, Hawke. All mages will soon have their justice.' I really hope I don't find out; whatever it is, I don't think it's something anyone will like."

"Dear Andraste."

"Mere prayer won't save you from the abomination." The elf's lips twitched. "It hasn't freed me yet."

"And Aveline? How is she? I haven't heard anything of her in years, just like the rest of your little circle."

"Circles," Lysandra said with a sigh. "Aveline's doing well, at least when she's not having to deal with the Templars trying to take over the guard. Do you remember that guard we rescued, Donnic? They're married now."

"A miracle," Fenris said.

"Why? Aveline's lovely," she said.

"And less skilled at courting than that mage creature we hunted for the Knight-Commander."

Mage creature. "You mean Emile de Launcet? You should have let that fool go free. He's harmless."

"Mostly a danger to himself," Lysandra said. "You've said you wondered what would have happened if Mother hadn't run off with Father. Well, look no further than that fumbling fool."

"Maker."

They danced, taking spins around the floor, the words pleasant partners, but she knew it was nothing more than a diversion. She couldn't ask what she wished, and Lysandra seemed determined to avoid it as well. She shifted and adjusted her robe beneath her. Fernis seemed unduly focused on Lysandra's widening smile, the shifting of her sister's hand in his as she stroked his thumb. Why do I keep waiting for him to say something? He won't. He'll sit here and interject, but he won't prod her the way he tried to prod me. She knew why she waited, and the answer sent a chill down her spine. He's family now, Maker forbid. Her stomach grumbled, and with a start, she noticed the torches had been lit.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" she asked. "There's something I need to know."

"What is it?" Her sister's voice dropped, and her eyes seemed to retreat behind the deep lines etched at their corners.

"I can't ask. Not now."

"You never used to be like this."

"Six years changes things, Lyssie."

"That's it, isn't it? Oh, Maker, Beth, I'm sorry. I just… Seeing you here, after you asked me to watch over Mother… I…"

"Are you saying I laid that burden on you?"

"No! I just… It's just another way I failed you, and after you were locked away… I couldn't…"

"You keep talking about freedom and prison, but you really don't understand, do you?"

"Tell me, Beth. Whatever it is, I'll listen."

"Do you know what it's like being a mage? To be alone, to know no one else like you? I mean, I knew Father, but you were born normal, and so was Carver. No matter the magic in the Amell line, Mother was also normal. I'd never met another mage until we met Merrill and Anders."

"You're more than just a mage, Beth."

"That's not what I'm saying. I never had a chance to learn more about my talents, to sharpen them. Magic was always something to hide, not to practice and to learn."

Lysandra smiled and seemed to drift off. "You used to be so obsessed with all the dull rot in Lothering's Chantry."

"It wouldn't have hurt you to pick up a book or two, you know."

"I'll have you know I've been reading. A lot!"

Fenris' lips twitched with a hint of a smile. "In fact, Andra's been learning to read in Arcanum."

"Tevinter books? Doesn't the Chantry ban those?"

"A Ferelden book, translated into the Tevinter language. I'm sure the Chantry doesn't have much to say about that."

"It's the Chantry, Lyssie. They have plenty to say about everything. I was trying to make a point, though. You see a prison, but I see a place to learn, and a place where I can be proud of what I am."

"I've always been proud of you, Beth. Always. Even when I couldn't, well, you know…"

The pile of Mother's things two years ago, dropped off by that funny little Bodahn and not Lysandra, had told her something else. And what else was I supposed to think?

"This is my home, Lyssie. Where I belong."

"Will you do something for me? Let me ask Meredith one more time to transfer you? You know what she'll say, but I have to try."

"You do seem to have made a friend of the Templars." Fenris let out a short laugh. "Fine, Lyssie. One try, and if she says no, that's it."

"I think I can live with that."

She stood and her sister and the elf followed suit. That smile she'd grown up with, and had spent hours in front of a mirror trying to duplicate, blazed bright.

"Bethany," Fenris said with a slight bow.

"I'll see you later," Lysandra said.

"That's it? No hug?"

"I didn't think you'd want one after everything…"

A faint hint of copper and spider made her eyes water as she wrapped her arms around Lysandra. She squeezed, even as her stomach twitched.

"Don't you ever clean that?"

"What?"

"You smell like the inside of a cave!"

"Eau de guts, Beth. It's the new Orlesian trend. All the nobles are wearing it this season."

"You're horrible, you know that?"

"Some things never change."

"Well, I wish this one would. Maker's breath, Lyssie! You'd think you'd grow up in six years."

"I can't smell anything since the Deep Roads. Varric's damned expedition ruined me forever."

"So it seems." She gripped her sister tighter. "I've missed you, you know."

"I missed you too."