Sorry for the delay in this chapter, folks. Thanks to jilly fae for her beta extraordinaire!
Steal Away Home: Chapter 25
Aeryn pulled the stew off the fire and ignored her sister's eyes on her back. She could imagine easily enough the look Bethany was giving her, that derivative of their father's sharp interest and their mother's determined curiosity, laced with a concern that only a little sister could give, exasperated and annoyed. But of all of them, Bethany had always been slowest to speak her mind, not because she was reticent, but because she was thoughtful and careful not to wound.
Fine. Aeryn wasn't in the mood to talk anyway.
So she startled a little when Bethany asked, "When did they come back?"
Aeryn glanced over her shoulder and lifted an eyebrow, curiously.
"The nightmares?"
"Oh." She shifted through Varric's pack next to her feet and pulled out a set of tin bowls. "Ostagar…and the Deep Roads."
Once upon a time, Bethany had known all of Aeryn's moods. This one had her puzzled, though if she had a ghost voice in her head she'd probably be a little inscrutable as well. "You had them before, though. I remember. You'd have awful screaming nightmares and Father would come in and…talk to you and it would end."
"Yeah." Aeryn ladled stew into one of the bowls and handed it to her sister, eyes casing the limited view of the cavern they'd found themselves in past the last seal. She reminded Bethany of some of the mages the Templars had brought in. Hunted. They'd looked hunted. They'd never let themselves be still, never let the Templars out of their sights. Rarely slept.
Why hadn't she ever made that connection with Aeryn, before?
Because in the months since the Chantry had fallen and Bethany had been with her, Aeryn hadn't been so…obvious about it. She'd been better.
Bethany took a few bites before she realized her sister hadn't filled a bowl for herself and was simply drawing shapes in the ashes on the edge of the firepit with the steel-cased toe of her boot, gazing out into the dark. "You said you were hungry, too."
Shrug. "Not a good idea."
"Aeryn, you have to…"
"Way I feel right now, I'd be cleaning it up later."
Bethany took another sip of the stew, savoring the fruity taste of the little dried peppers that had plumped up in the broth. Fenris' influence on her sister's cooking, she thought. Fereldan stews rarely had any spice. "He woke you up, talking to you. Sebastian, I mean."
"Yeah." Aeryn banked the coals under the stewpot , Bethany's gaze making her shoulders itch. Eyes on her back, watchers in the dark and whispers in her head. She shivered and snapped," What do you want me to say, Beth? I can't say I'm sorry again, you'll just tell me it's not my fault."
"Your man said that, not I." Bethany's grave statement yanked Aeryn's eyes back to her face, searching. " After all, you're the one who picked up an enchanted object. You're the one who sleeps with her knives."
"Yes I do. Of course, you always sleep armed as well."
"Not by any choice in the matter."
Curiosity flitted across Aeryn's features. Bethany bit back a smile but it was wiped out by her sister's next query. "Would you give it up? If you could close your eyes, click your heels and say, 'I don't want to be a mage any longer,' just give it up with no other consequence, would you?"
"I could ask you the same question, you know." she tried to buy herself a moment to think.
"Yes, well I'm older and I asked first."
Bethany sniffed. "That's mature."
"That's me, the mature one."
Bethany shook her head and then...hesitatingly, shook it again. "No. No I wouldn't. I can do some good. I can help you. I can protect. I can, if need be, heal. It's worth…all the rest of it." She took a final bite of the stew, scraping the sides clean of the congealing broth. "Well, how about you?"
Aeryn listened to the murmurs of her father. He'd done his best. Whatever this was, he'd done his best. Until the day he couldn't and then he made her promise to do hers. Had she? Bethany's chin was set. She was an adult. She ought to know.
Taking a moment, a breath, Aeryn plunged into the real question, "Well, you tell me. Did you like the Circle so well, you wish you'd gone when you were eight?"
Aeryn might have been speaking quietly, but Bethany heard the sharp undertone. "What?"
"You like to play 'do you remember'. So do you remember when we lived in the woods on the edge of the Brecillian Forest?"
"The little cabin…by a creek?" Bethany could see it, in her mind's eye. The tiny house, the walls made of logs with some of the bark still clinging. The way the light had filtered through the leaves while she played tag with Carver. It had been cool there, under the trees with the creek flowing nearby.
"That's right. And then one day we went fishing and the next we loaded everything into the wagon and left?" Her sister's gaze was fixed on hers and Bethany wondered if Aeryn realized how nerve wracking that was, glass grey and chilling to the bone.
"Yes…" Who was she kidding? Hawke knew exactly how disconcerting her stare could be. She used it to her advantage time and again.
"Would you have rather have gone to the Circle, then? Or was it worth me killing a Templar to keep you with us?" Before Bethany could even process that, Aeryn spoke again. "How about Lothering? You liked Lothering, liked being close to the Chantry, liked being a farmgirl? I did, too. Now…it was a little hard on Sister Rilla."
"Sister Rilla? She ran into a…something in the forest. A wolf or…"
Aeryn's halfsmile showed just the slightest hint of tooth. "Rilla met me in the forest. After she saw you practicing a fire spell on the back field. And Evan Marddyn? You danced with him at the summer festival and he pinched your arse on the way home?"
"Evan joined the…the…" But Bethany petered out at the expression of pale pity on Aeryn's face.
"The mercenary band that came through during the festival? No, Evan was on his way to the Chantry to tell Ser Bryant about how you froze his fingers for him. Did you know? I gave Evan his first kiss when he was fifteen. He cried. When I cut his throat, not when I kissed him."
A memory of a stubbly upper lip and sweat that smelled of boy and sweet hay took her for a moment, until Bethany jarred her out of the reverie.
"His mother got letters!"
"Yeah? You're right. Because I stopped sleeping real well after I used a bottle of vitriol to get rid of his face and that mole on his shoulder and the hand; that scar he had from his first sword, and then threw what was left into the lake. When his mother started worrying about not getting letters…I figured it was best if I left and joined Cailan's Army. And I sent letters all the way along to Gwaren. Including the one that said he'd died in service."
Refusing a sudden urge to cover her ears like a child, Bethany finally squeaked out, "Why are you telling me this?" Why now ? Was it just Father pushing or something worse?
"You asked." Aeryn's jaw lost the hard set and her eyes softened. "And so you'll understand what I'm saying when I tell you…I wouldn't change it. Not one thing, Beth. Anything to keep you with us. Anything to keep you safe. And…Mother, when she made us go to Kirkwall…I knew…I knew I couldn't keep you from the Templars unless…I wouldn't change that either. Do you understand?"
It was Bethany's turn to try and find something in the fire to make sense of what she was hearing. "When…when I went to the Circle, did Mother blame you?"
"Where were you?" Aeryn nodded, eyes scanning the dark again. "That's what she asked me when Carver died and when you went to the Circle. Where were you? She didn't say another word to me for two weeks…not until Sebastian came and promised to help find out what had happened to you, if you would stay in Kirkwall or get shipped out to another Circle. If you'd even lived through your Harrowing. I don't think she remembered…she was sick and…anyway. It was my fault. I turned away from you for a second and…But…no. If the world has to be like it is, I'd rather be one of the dangerous folk than the one who needs protecting." Aeryn paused for a moment, but when she looked back at Bethany her eyes were clear and her chin had lifted. "I need to be as I am, what I am, if I'm to be any use to Sebastian."
Oh? It took a few moments for Bethany to think past the weight of what Aeryn had told her to frame her question and she didn't manage to do it well. "I didn't think…I'm sorry…I had thought you were…that it was love that brought you two…"
Aeryn was listening again to some strand of Father's thought she could almost catch and very nearly didn't hear her sister's halting query. "What? Oh, no. No, it was. But…if I was only a farmgirl, one we'd be dead a long time ago and two…I suppose I'd be sitting at home in Ferelden rather than with him. He needs my knives and shadows more than he needs my knitting and kisses."
Knives. Something clicked for Bethany then. Aeryn had had a screaming nightmare the night they'd moved away from the forest and Bethany remembered wondering if her big sister was a mage, too, when Malcolm had knelt beside her sister, who had crammed up against the wagon wheel pushing away from something Bethany couldn't see, cupped her face in his hands and spoke softly to her until she stopped screaming. Remembered her father bartering with a merchant alongside the road on their way to Redcliffe. She and Carver had been…not quite eight. Aeryn had been eleven when father was fitting her small hand around a slim elvhen dagger hilt and asking her how it felt.
"Heavy," Aeryn had said, frowning. She'd had those little throwing knives as long as Bethany could remember and her fillet knife that she'd kept in a leg sheath much like the one she'd just taken off. But the daggers came then, the merchant who'd just come from the Forest trading in elvhen things she'd found.
"You'll get stronger, pup," their father had answered.
"We left that cabin and…Aeryn…You were eleven."
That's what Sebastian had said, hung on as well. How was it they came to be so sheltered, her sister and her lover? "I was strong. And fast and the shadows…well, I always had that trick right? And he was sick. Addled."
"But why did Father…how could he…encourage you?"
"He needed me. Mother. You don't remember, but Mother lost a baby about a year before that. It took a long time for her to get better and...he needed me, Beth. Father didn't want me to kill but he needed me to do it. He protected you the way he could as long as he could. And when he couldn't…then it was my job." She took a sip of the tea she'd poured up, wrinkling her nose at the bitterness of the brew without honey. "I'm sorry I didn't do it better. I'm sorry you thought you had to save me and Mother by going to the circle."
"Anyone could see that you were in trouble, Aeryn. I…didn't think I had the right to ask it of you any longer."
"I was doing better, Beth…I was. Between Fenris and Varric and…you were right. I wasn't alone. You shouldn't have been, either." Something like approval thrummed through her father's thought tone and Aeryn shivered and glanced up to the nearly hidden ledge where Sebastian was keeping watch. She wished she could join him and he could…do whatever it was that chased the voice away. But he was working and didn't need her as a distraction. A thread of resentment spun up before she could knock it back…she'd gotten so blighted clingy in the last few months.
Bethany watched emotion chase itself across her sister's face before Aeryn grimaced and shook herself, draining the last of the tea. When she set the cup aside, Aeryn's face was bland and cool.
"And anyway…it's what I am. What I'm meant for. I…don't really know what to do with myself if there's not someone to…fight for. Did you want to ask anything else?"
Bethany shook her head. "Not…now. Maybe…let me think about what you said, alright?" She was proud of herself for not letting her voice shake. Holy Andraste, Father. How could you?
"Of course." Fenris had been watching them the last few minutes, Aeryn had heard him wake not long after she asked Bethany her question. "Here, Fenris. Don't let it get cold."
He took the bowl from her out-stretched hand and nodded when Aeryn whispered in her basic Tevene, "If she asks, tell her."
Fenris raised his eyebrow at that and her resigned expression. It was the first time she'd ever expressly given him permission to discuss the things she'd told him of, the things he'd seen himself. Secret things she'd done working for the Red Iron. Private jobs she'd taken to gain a little influence. Tricks she'd learned until she'd gone from a mage's private body guard to an army scout to an assassin in truth. He didn't move when Bethany sat beside him, legs curled up in her long robes and chin tucked in, contemplative. It reminded Fenris of old days when Hawke would join him for an evening, both of them mostly silent over their cups. He wished he could offer her a glass of something. Bethany looked as if she could use it.
As Aeryn walked to the edge of the stone platform that they were camped on, Aeryn could feel Sebastian's eyes on her and stretching her spine with a wince as her ribs reminded her, she raised her hand in a wave.
He returned the gesture and shifted his gaze. The line of her back and scraps of the whispered conversation told him all he needed to know. She and Bethany were talking.
He flexed a stiff muscle in his back. unknowingly mirroring her own wince. If that was the reason for them being down here, in this nightmare of a place, then perhaps…perhaps it was worth the pain it would cause her in the meantime. She'd not had one of the terrible dreams since she'd finally told him what she dreamed. If she told Bethany…perhaps, a little more of the poison would leach away. Little by little.
00000
Sebastian came down and ate while Fenris took his turn in watch over them, although Fenris opted to keep moving rather than use the perch Varric and Sebastian had.
He watched her, as she sorted through her poisons, holding one violent colored vial up and then another. Discarding one to roll another between her palms in the light. A different sort of tic than the one that had her playing with her knives. Now and again, he saw her gaze flick to the small pile of her weapons by Fenris' bedroll. And then the potions were shoved back into their pouch in a chime and clank of glass, in what seemed like a random order. Every vial had its place though, to be pulled with only the brush of her sensitive fingers to feel the little bumps and scratches she etched into the glass to tell her which was which.
She'd been silent since he returned, though she'd given him a corner of her crooked smile and leaned into the hand he'd cupped her cheek with before handing him his dinner. Bethany was sleeping again, curled up between the stone and Varric's warm bulk. He'd patted her shoulder as she left them, thanking her for keeping Aeryn company and for allowing Aeryn's…was it a confession? No, just an admission. Aeryn didn't confess her past, she laid it out for one to accept or not.
The silence wasn't oppressive, even in this dank cavern, just pensive. He'd taken small vows of silence often enough…usually when he felt a certain sneaking pride in his voice burbling up; he knew they had value. Aeryn's silences were rarer but usually just as healing for her. Her jokes and verbal sparring were as much defense as they were a part of her personality. If she didn't feel the need to fling them up at him, then perhaps she was at rest in some way.
The scrape of his spoon broke their quiet. "You spoke with Bethany."
She nodded.
"It is right, I think." An arched brow prompted him to add, "In the absence of light, shadows thrive."
That wrinkle popped up between her eyebrows. But she nodded again.
Sebastian sighed and finished his bowl, sprawling his legs out in front of him in that way that told Aeryn that he was exhausted. He likely wouldn't rest until she did, though, so what to do? She sipped at her tea and rubbed her temple, considering. When he finished his bowl she scooted next to him and laid her head on his lap, letting the warmth of his legs soothe her.
"Is your head aching?"
"A little." Her whisper was barely audible.
"Should I wake your sister?"
"No, just could you…" He set his hand to rubbing, the little ridge of bone behind her ear and then down the tense line of her neck. After a few minutes he felt the rigid spine relax gradually.
"Thanks."
Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Dinna thank me for such things, mo chride. You should have a rest, if you can." Aeryn shook her head and Sebastian leaned his head back against the rock, finding a divot that cupped his skull almost comfortably. "You don't normally have two of your dreams in one night, maybe…"
"I can't even close my eyes. He's just…there and then I close my eyes and they're…I can't." She could feel her throat tightening and her pitch rising and swallowed, even as Sebastian's hands began to move again, along her back and her forehead. He was solid and real under her cheek and she forced herself to focus on that and not the murmur at the back of her skull and the grotesque creatures that were lurking just past the limit of her vision, waiting to drag her family away from her again. Go away. Father, please go away and bloody well take them with you.
Her fingers had clutched in the leg of his trousers, drawing the leather uncomfortably tight. She was impossibly still, again, tension in her body not even allowing a tremble to escape. No wonder her poor head ached. He longed to curl her up and make her forget for a few minutes even, but here was not the place. "Tell me what I can do." He asked and hated the helpless feeling her fear brought out in him.
"Three years ago, I'd have given my treasury and my second best daggers for this alone."
He went along with the small joke instead of the melancholy. "Only your second best?"
"Well, if I've given up my treasury, too, then I'd have to earn us a living." She paused and he felt her jaw clench against his thigh. Girding herself up to ask him, "Sing me something?"
Startled, he took a moment and then let his finger traced along her ear. "D'ya have a request, then?"
"Whatever comes to mind; the Chant, your shopping list, Isabela's version of Wicked Grace's Daughter."
"Turn over, anam chara."
"Why?"
"Let your friend guard you, stop looking out into the dark." She shifted, grunting a little as her ribs twinged, until she was looking up at him instead, the skin around his eyes thin with weariness and bruised but the irises still the loveliest shade of blue she'd ever seen. She'd stolen piles of sapphires than never hoped to match them.
Unbraiding the hair at her temples, Sebastian smoothed the rough waves back and began rubbing her temples again, never taking his eyes from hers, blinking slowly, breathing slowly until her own breaths matched his instead of the hitched half breaths she'd been taking.
He began to hum, reflexively reaching for the soothing drone of Transfigurations. Aeryn didn't meditate as he did, preparing for a long session of prayer or chant. He'd come to see how her training replaced that for her, the repetitive motion and the way the blades sat in her hands as much of a focus for her as prayers were for him. But she needed rest not motion.
The intimacy of this; watching her eyes shift while he sang, softly as he could manage so as not to disturb anyone or draw undue attention, the pupils dilating a little wider…she was right. Three years ago, he couldn't have imagined this, how it would feel like grace.
And then, just beyond their little safe space, stone slid against stone and Aeryn twisted, pushed off and landed next to her pile of gear as Fenris shouted to wake them.
Sebastian reached for his bow. Elthina had once told him, back when he was first learning to pray, to open himself to the wider call of the Maker and failing, failing with every attempt. "Grace, my child, is ever fleeting. Even the smallest moments are precious."
Varric grumbled as he lined Bianca up on the nearest hurlock. "Next time, let's not antagonize the darkspawn by singing hymns, maybe?"
"Sorry, Varric."
Aeryn clung to the shadows and snuck up on the genlock that was barreling towards Bethany. Behind them, that was the key. They were fast, but not quite fast enough to flip that massive shield before Bethany's protective sigil caught the genlock. It howled as Aeryn sliced into its hide, into its stinking armpit and into the heart. She could almost see the poison rushing through corroded veins.
Beautiful, really. Acid green through bile and black gore. She'd learned to brew that poison on a chilly day in Father's still room in the barn rain thrumming on the roof kneeling on the bench besides his worktable, chin on hands to watch the solution drip while Father listened to her recite the names of demons and their weaknesses once they came through the veil. The oxen and the milk cow had thrown enough heat off to make the barn cozy, though. To get that perfect, vicious, potent shade of green you had to boil the woundingwort in a solution with just a tiny pinch of hartshorn and hold it to the boil for exactly three turns of the apothecary's hourglass and then immediately…Fenris shouted and she shook herself out of her transfixion just in time to roll under a poorly launched fire ball. "Beth, watch it!"
"Wasn't me!"
"Then who…" Snapping around, Aeryn saw the mage; in Warden blue and silver, spinning her staff like a pike and standing to order as the last darkspawn fell to one of Sebastian's carefully hoarded arrows. The crimson tipped fletching sticking out of its throat was oddly festive.
The red-haired woman had three companions wearing Warden armor as well and Aeryn was somewhat reminded of their meeting with Meriden months before. Something here sent the hairs prickling across the back of her neck, though, and she had to force herself to relax. Sebastian's elegant presence settling at her back and Fenris stalking up beside her, glowering at the new mage, helped quite a bit.