"Can I meet the Champion, Mistress?" Quinn asked after she'd sent the rest of the children off to lunch.
"Maybe, if the Templars allow it."
"And she's really your sister?"
"Well, you don't need to sound so impressed!"
The boy flinched and those ruby rosebud lips that would be the envy of any girl curled into a pout.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry! Lyssie and I… Well, we're not close anymore. She's barely my sister."
The boy's eyes grew large and liquid, but he nodded. She crouched beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"You remember the dog you roasted… Well, imagine if the dog was your sister, and instead of biting you, it used to love you, but suddenly stopped. I wouldn't mind baking Lyssie a little. Just until she's tender."
Quinn wrapped his tiny arms around her. "Then I'll protect you from that dog, Mistress."
And maybe he'll make Lyssie understand why I can't leave.
The Templar who fetched her some time later seemed oddly subdued and only offered a curt nod when she requested Quinn's company and Ella's. Maker! Her stomach threatened to take off from the swarming of what was surely a billion butterflies. It's just Lyssie. And yet, it had never been just Lyssie. Just Lyssie would never have given up her chance to go fishing with Carver and his big-brother-friend who she'd been watching for months to stay home and play another endless rendition of "house," because Father hadn't brought in enough coin for a new toy. Just Lyssie would never have shrugged off her earnest urging to "go marry him or make him your boyfriend," and then played dolls as if there was nothing she'd rather be doing. She would never have begrudged herself her power and wished she could be as talented with a blade if there had ever been just Lyssie.
"Oh, Bethany, are you sure you want me to come with you?" Timid, but clear behind the wall of Templar that approached her.
"You said you wanted to thank 'the Champion' yourself, didn't you? And Quinn wants to meet her too."
"But… I thought you said your last meeting didn't go well," Ella said.
"Well, it was better than the first, but… Lyssie needs to see…"
"That you don't wish to go to Ferelden? I'd miss you horribly," Ella said.
"Ferelden? Mistress?"
"Not that I think the Knight-Commander would be so gracious as to grant her that request. So far, that seems to be the only reason I'm still here."
"Move," the Templar said. "The Champion is waiting."
Quinn's hand quieted some of the jumping in her belly and Ella chattered and caught her up on the gossip she'd missed, not that she cared much for the connections that Ella insisted on tracking in exhaustive detail. Still, it was better to know, since the First Enchanter didn't follow too many of the day-to-day goings on, and he'd sometimes ask for her input. The walk through the long corridors didn't seem quite so endless with Quinn's tiny hand squeezing hers, nor with Ella's warm chatter brightening her.
She squinted as the sun met her unshielded eyes. Lysandra blazed brilliant fire where she stood at the base of the stairs, her hair pure flame. As always, it seemed, the elf was with her, a streak of light, his armor glittering pure copper. She shielded her eyes and as she did, her sister's smile blinded her just as much. Ella ran for both of them as the Templar shook his head. Quinn hesitated at her side, but kept pace as she took tentative steps forward.
"Champion," Ella cried. "I never gave you proper thanks for saving my life. Blessed Andraste sent you herself to watch over me."
"Ella? That is you, isn't it?" Lysandra said. "I'm glad you're well. And, really, you don't have to thank me for anything. You've thanked me too much already."
"But, Messere!"
"You've already thanked me twice, you know. Once in writing, even. And I'm not 'Messere' or 'Champion.' My name's Lysandra."
"But, Mess—"
"Lysandra, Ella, please. Beth, are you all right?"
She hadn't budged from the third step as Quinn clutched at her hand. The elf's arm remained loosely around Lysandra's waist and he took measured steps that exactly matched her sister's as she made her way up the stairs. She winced as Lysandra's blade reflected a sharp beam into her eye.
"Maker, Lyssie, did you have those shined up on purpose?"
She caught only a faint glimmer of her sister's smile through the beam's remnants that danced red before her eyes. "Bodahn can be a little overzealous at times."
"Bodahn? The funny old dwarf? Why would he be shining your things?"
"Let's just say for now that it was Mother's idea, and that he pledged me his service for not saving Sandal's life."
"Not saving his? Never mind. I'm sure that's a story I'll never hear."
Lysandra shuddered in the elf's arms. "The Deep Roads are something I'd rather forget."
She'd never gotten over the sinking in her gut when her sister had given in to Mother's wishes. She'd belonged there at Lysandra's side, even though her sister had claimed she hadn't wished to go. Just like when Carver would leave us both behind to go fish with his friends, or Lyssie couldn't resist sunlight and the wind in the wheat. Lysandra had done her best all those years ago when she'd been nothing but a burden, but once she'd grown into her power, her sister had no longer needed her. Likely, she'd never find out Lysandra's true reason for leaving her behind and taking that Dalish mage instead. Fenris nudged Lysandra up another step as she swallowed bitter bile. Sand grated the back of her throat as she swallowed again.
"It's that elf," Quinn said, his voice catching.
"It's all right," she said, even though it wasn't.
The little boy straightened tall as her sister slowly approached. He gripped her hand and his blue eyes shot flame. If she'd been that dog a few weeks before, she'd have been terrified, but instead, a sudden warmth shot through her.
"Be nice to the Mistress," he said, his tiny voice comically ferocious.
Lysandra fell to one knee before him. "Who's 'the Mistress?'"
"You don't scare me!"
"I don't understand; why would I scare you? Is it the blades? I could put them away if you wish."
"You want to send the Mistress away!"
"And again with 'the Mistress.' Maker's breath!" Lysandra took a deep breath. "Beth, what's he talking about?"
"Come on, Lyssie! You've never been this dense! Quinn's talking about your wish to send me off to Ferelden."
"You're Quinn?" Lysandra extended a hand to the boy. "I'm Lysandra. Pleased to meet you."
She stared at the elf, who looked on with rapt attention. She'd expected him to protest the "mageling's" presence, but instead he seemed spellbound as Lysandra smiled at the boy. He's that taken with her that he doesn't even mind Quinn's presence? Yet when Fenris met her eyes, she saw that sadness again. Oh… Maker… A sudden lump choked her and her vision went blurry. Too much sun… She wrenched her eyes away and her lips twitched as Quinn slowly extended a trembling hand toward her sister. Lysandra's smile bloomed and she shook the boy's hand with mock solemnity.
"Are you really the Champion?" The fear turned quickly to awe.
"That's what they call me for some reason. But, yes, I suppose so. Really, though, I'm Lysandra Hawke, and I wish you'd just call me by my name."
"You're not so scary up close."
"Am I scary from far away?" The smile turned to a grin, and Lysandra's laugh tinkled.
"Not really. You're the Mistress' sister?"
"You mean Beth? Yes."
"You don't look anything like her."
Lysandra flinched. "No, Beth looks more like Mother. I look more like Father did before he died. Her twin, Carver, looked just like her. Are you one of the children Beth trains?"
She remembers the letter I wrote her. The letter she never replied to…
"Quinn's new here, Lyssie. The Templars brought him in two weeks ago after a woman sicced her dog on him."
"Dear Maker, who does that to a child?"
"Someone who values her rubbish, apparently. Quinn was scrounging a meal."
"I… I'm sorry," Lysandra said. "What happened to your parents, Quinn?"
"They… The big horned men killed them." Those huge pools of his suddenly went more liquid than the largest sea.
"Three years? You lived three years without them? Oh, Andraste, I'm sorry… I wish I'd been faster." Lysandra's voice broke. "Another suffers for my failings."
"Andra," Fenris said, "again you blame yourself for things beyond your control."
"Isn't it? Isabela…"
"Would have betrayed you no matter what you chose. Once a thief, always a thief."
Quinn's eyes met hers. "She's sad, Mistress?"
"Yes, I think so. Lyssie, I can't leave. Can't you see why?"
"I… Maker." Lysandra tottered to her feet. "You have to be just like Father, don't you?"
Ella grabbed Quinn's hand, and it disturbed her that she couldn't remember when the girl had approached. "Come, let's find Anitra. Bethany needs to be alone with her sister."
"But, Mistress Ella!"
Lysandra's smile came faint as she bent at the waist. "It was good to meet you, Quinn."
"I met the Champion!" he said.
"Go tell Anitra all about it, honey," she said.
"Yes, Mistress Bethany!"
Fenris and Lysandra both stared off into the distance as Ella led the boy back inside. She hadn't expected to see a faint longing in the elf's eyes, but the redness in Lysandra's didn't surprise her.
"Adorable boy," her sister said. "I can't blame you for wanting to stay."
"I have a life here, Lyssie. A good one."
"I…"
"It's a little bright out here—should we go sit and talk?" She gestured into the dim alcove where Solivitus peddled goods to a non-existent clientele.