Sorry for the wait, I have a lot on my plate right now! Enjoy!(?)
The Gallows was not amongst Sebastian's favourite spots to be in. It was to be expected that it would be so, too, given the place's history and significance- the remains of the well-known cruelty the Tevinter Imperium put into practice was nowhere more apparent in Kirkwall than there.
The weeping statues shone dimly in the afternoon light, the precious looking material contrasting greatly with the pitiable appearance of the depicted slaves' poor forms. Maker, did he feel great sorrow at the thought of the blood spilled so carelessly before the covered eyes of those very still blocks of metal. Thoughts of such twisted things did not sit well with the prince's conscience, and his mind flew to the Divine Prophet and the first Exalted March- would it have been possible for him and the people of Kirkwall to walk those paved-streets so easily without Andraste? He knew his answer to that, but wondered how many of those gathered between the walls and remainders of the Magisters's secular glory pondered such questions. Even in the centre of the undeniable evidence of great injustice, it was reassuring to know something had been done to try and right the way of the world; that the Maker's Bride had laid down the first stone of the road to change, although the journey to a better Thedas was long and difficult to make still.
It was quiet amongst the market stalls, and the mild wind carried the distinctive smell of salt and spices to the archer's attention.
"State your business." The nice weather did nothing to help the guards' moods, it seemed.
"I would like to see a member of the Circle: Bethany Hawke. If you would be so kind as to lead me to-" Sebastian was cut off with the impatient motion of a gloved hand. "They don't receive visitors." The Templar sneered, and the rogue had to refrain from saying something really disrespectful at his choice of tone.
"I am not ignorant of the fact." He smoothed the man instead. "But this is not an informal visit." The small slip of paper the Grand Cleric had signed for him was more than enough to quiet the guard's prepared protests.
"Very well." The man moved out of the way allowed Sebastian to pass, averseness in his voice. "I'll lead the way, stay close."
Once inside, the first thing Sebastian noticed was the coldness of the walls as he passed through the surprisingly sparsely-decorated corridors. He felt that, should he have touched them, they would have chilled his skin.
Passing various doors and taking note of all the turns they took- one could never be too cautious-, the archer observed with a frown how the Templar took great care not to speak to anyone they happened to stumble into along the way. He'd always knew that there was strain in the relationship of mages and Templars, but he'd had hope that the Circle of Kirkwall was not so heavily affected- but with Meredith's growing involvement in the matter, perhaps that had been overly optimistic of him to do.
"We're here; those are her rooms, at least-" A muffled sound could be heard coming from behind the plain, wooden door, one that did not indicate she was in a very good condition, and the Templar awkwardly stopped speaking. "Well, she's definitely here- go in already, I'll be waiting down the hall, come to me after you're done here and I'll escort you out." He mumbled something else under his breath, too low for Sebastian to make out, and promptly returned to his business. His actions would have normally warranted some concern, and the rogue would have raised an eyebrow at it, but there were more pressing things to tend to. It appeared that the news of what happened to Leandra… they have reached Bethany surprisingly quickly, and it was debatable whatever that was more of a misfortune or more of a mercy.
"Bethany?" The door unlocked quietly and he carefully called her name. For a long moment of uncertainty, he sat still behind the half-open door- he hadn't knocked, he realised, was she even proper? The last thing she needed was for him to barge in on her- Maker forbid- undressed.
"Come in…" Her voice was breathy, and Sebastian -despise being able to tell she was not really fit for receiving company- was unable to stop himself from going to her, even for the sake of her dignity. That last thought was what compelled his conscience to nudge at him, halting his movements. Even if she was not improperly dressed, surely, she would not want him, or anyone else for the matter, to see her if her state was highly distraught, would she? Would he intrude on her in her possibly vulnerable state just to satisfy his curiosity? To appease his selfish desire to see her?
Another sound came from inside, a half-broken sigh, and he made a decision. He should go, really, it was not his place-
"Sebastian?" Her voice shook lightly when she spoke, and in turn, so did his resolve.
Maker damn it all, he had to know how she was!
Suddenly tense beyond reason, he swallowed and pushed his hesitancy away, finally making his way pass the door. Next time, he promised himself- next time he would not allow himself to be so selfish.
The lighting was poor, the curtains closed tightly, but his eyes adjusted easily enough. Once they did, he took in his surroundings with a critical eye. The room was sparse, not unlike his, but the few pieces of furniture inside were in good shape, and the floors were partly covered by some plain, beige carpet- a small mercy, considering the coldness emitted by the stone around them. Even so, he wished for something better for a woman such as Bethany, mage or not.
Recognizing the lucidity of his emotions, he frowned, but did not regret them. There was no doubt in his mind (it was actually his traitorous heart that spurred the thought, but he would not acknowledge that, too) that the woman did deserve better- better than the cold, the stone, the narrow bed she was sitting on, from where she looking at him with dull eyes.
"Hello." Bethany greeted him softly, tranquilly –he almost shuddered at the word, at the implications-, but her fidgety hands gave away her nervousness, and her voice gave away her sorrow. "I'm sorry for the mess." -but they both knew she wasn't talking about her wrinkled bedcovers. Her smile was very tired, and her eyes were strikingly blood-shot; her cheeks were puffy and pink, and Sebastian could have told that's she'd been crying by the state of her hair alone.
"I'm sure you've heard…" Her voice broke the silence once again- the mage sounded dazed, pained and uncertain all at one, and she stopped her trail of thoughts absurdly, as if not daring to voice what happened out of fear of making it real.
Despise her mind's efforts to shield her from the cruelty of it all, the prince could see the anger, the sadness, the despair and, finally, the resignation, settling over her like a numbing cold.
"Did my brother send you? Did he not send Uncle already?" Bethany queried quietly, and her quivering lips tugged and twisted at something in his guts. The man slowly shook his head and carefully sat on the bed beside her, not daring to meet her eyes- he had no reason to invade her space so, he knew, but his body moved as if it had a mind of its own, motivated only by the desire to get close to the woman. "I wasn't sure if you were yet informed-" He swallowed again, his throat felt far too dry, and it was something to do other than stare at her hands- they were pale and shaking. "I wanted to make sure the news did not hit you too hard, as well." Sebastian cursed himself for being so awkward, for sounding so formal and aloof, and desperately wanted to cradle her hands once they started shaking more.
"I appreciate the concern." She admitted, and those beautiful golden eyes of hers pinned him down with their sincere, raw emotions.
It were her hands that reach for his, seconds before he was sure his restrain would snap and bring them to him, and it were his eyes that widened in surprise at the bold move.
Red.
Her eyes were red- redder then before, red like he had sometimes seen her cheeks after a battle, and he was distracted by her cold fingers for a moment, almost missing the gloss that had settled over her gaze.
"I'm sorry…" She murmured, but continued to intertwine their digits together, and he tugged at her hand weakly, telling her he did not mind. With a shaky exhale, she tightened her hold, and she lightly traced his knuckles with a thumb- all the while never meeting his scrutinizing stare. He thought that it was better like that- he knew his lips to be set in a line that was too severe to be pleasant, in his concentration, and his eyes were narrowed and desperate to read everything about that moment they were sharing, everything about her. Surely, naturally, the intensity of his expression would have frightened the woman.
"It's alright." He assured her, the gruffness of his voice making him frown.
Sebastian tried to swallow again, but his throat was much too tight.
Her eyes, he saw once she lifted her head a bit, were still glossy and red around the corners, and she looked just about ready to cry.
Their hands stood connected and limp in between them, and slowly, ever so slowly, Sebastian pulled her into a loose hug, resting her chin on his shoulder, on the spot she'd been focusing her eyes on to avoid looking at him.
Bethany inhaled sharply, and he stopped breathing altogether.
He did not just do that, did he? His mind buzzed with nerves and reproaches, and-
"Thank you." She attempted to smile, and he could almost count the tears in her eyes.
It unnerved him, and he thoughtlessly pulled her closer, squeezing her hands. To think that he'd allowed himself to be put in such an improper position, and that he needed some serious effort to conjure guilt because of it… He told himself she needed some company- any company- and that he was not wrong in doing something to help.
"I don't want to believe it." Her whisper was almost entirely concealed by the sound of her rapid, rhythmic breathing and that of Sebastian's blood rushing to his ears, his heart beating in his throat.
He heard it because he was all-too-aware of everything she did and said.
"It's going to be all right." He was a liar, he told himself; a sinner- "You have no right to claim knowledge of such things!"- but he could not control his tongue around her either, he found.
Quietly, he looked at her, and he could not help but think that she was…broken. She was strong, of course, so much stronger than so many others would have been, but she still seemed- looked- broken, and lost.
He wanted to tell her how she was stronger and braver and…so much more- than all the nobles in his court in Starkheaven, almost all the royalty he'd ever met- but to bring up the notion of his status then felt so very inappropriate. No, it was better that he remained quiet, that he held her and comforted her in silence. After all, neither of them actually wanted to be reminded of who and what they were, exactly. And in that brief, intimate moment when he had his arms around her, he did not feel like a prince any more than she felt like a powerful, proficient mage, anyway.
Bethany still held onto his hand- it was warm, and solid, and reassuring, and she wanted to snatch away his warmth and keep it forever-, searching inside herself, she found that it was cold, cold and empty, and frightening- like the Fade- and she once again acknowledged that she wanted to cry.
He held her, and he was her only anchor point in life for a short while.
She cried, and she was his only responsibility he felt he had, for a short while.
And for that short while, it was bearable –more than bearable- for both.
...just a short while.
"...just a short while more." The thought sounded, conspicuously.