Bethany blinked hard and took a deep breath of the crisp ocean air, trying to clear her mind of the events that happened just over a day ago.
A single thought.
Images swam across her field of vision. Images of her, all alone, head between her knees, struggling hopelessly while a violet-clad creature teased her thoughts, enticed her emotions and tempted her every desire.
"She's coming. She has to be." She had muttered under her breath. The words that had anchored her will, sheltered her sanity and kept her alive.
A single touch.
She had come for her in the eerie silence. The soft crunch of grass under her boots had carried over to Bethany's ears by the soft, rolling wind.
She had waited patiently. Bethany could tell by her steady breathing as she waited for her to have the courage to look up.
She had smiled when she finally lifted her head from her knees, tears rimming the violet-blue eyes that radiated relief. "It's you." Bethany had said, gaze landing on Clarissa's right arm, where
the still-glowing seal cast its silhouette on her face, hawk and eagle entwined in shifting white light.
"Who else would it be?" Clarissa had replied softly, tears spilling and marking a trail down her face, reflecting the light like a sparkling gem. "I keep my promises."
A twinge of pain had lanced its way through Bethany's body, making her gasp at the intensity and her hands clench in an effort to keep herself from screaming. A tidal wave of fatigue had followed, the slowing beats of her heart throbbing with agony with every movement.
Bethany had met Clarissa's gaze, and had seen the determination in her eyes burning like an unquenchable fire. Clarissa's hand had reached out, slowly, as if asking for her permission. Bethany had looked upon her sister, upon the one person who would always stand between her and the world, the one person who would die so that she could live, and she felt a single, pure emotion break through the pain and fill her bleeding heart.
"I love you, sister." Bethany had said, and her fingers touched Clarissa's softly.
A single touch.
At that moment, both Bethany and Clarissa had felt uncommon magic rush through their veins, spurred by the single emotion that ran through their minds and their hearts. The seal on Clarissa's outstretched arm had dwarfed the sun as the Fade itself warped around the connected sisters, forging an irrevocable tie between their hearts.
A single thought.
At that moment, Bethany's mind had melded with Clarissa's, revealing every thought, every emotion and every single thing Clarissa had ever experienced.
The duality of her own self as she watched her sleep, under the waving shades they both knew and loved. The yearning she felt as she struggled with herself, struggling not to press her lips to hers and make her irrevocably hers.
The spear of jealousy as she kissed him on the cheek, under the light of the flickering lit lanterns. The numbing pain that followed, lancing straight through her heart. The wet feel of tears running down her cheeks as soft arms wrapped around her in comfort, as she wept for the one thing she cherished the most being torn from her,as she wept for her.
Bethany winced at the intensity of the memory she experienced in her sister's mind, at her heart's twinging throbs complementing the heartbreak.
She had always wondered at the dreamy stares when she caught Clarissa looking at her without her knowing.
She had always wondered why Clarissa always tensed when she was near her, when she brushed up against her.
She had always wondered at the gasps Clarissa made when she embraced her, as if she wrapped her arms around her too tightly, which she did not.
At that moment, it had dawned upon her, accentuating itself with Clarissa's words.
"And I you, Bethany."
And I you.
Bethany felt her now, as she had felt her presence ever since that moment when heart and soul became one. It had given her a sense of safety knowing that she was always nearby, and she had reveled in it. But now, she was afraid what such a binding tie would bring.
She loved Clarissa, that much was certain. She possibly loved her more than anyone else. In her mind, however, she was the older sister, the ceaseless guardian that was always there to defend her, the blameless companion that was always supportive of her. She was everything she could've hoped for in a sister, and the newfound emotions that she had revealed in Clarissa forced her to reforge her perspectives on her.
Clarissa was beautiful, no doubt. Her striking violet-blue eyes radiated a constant vigil that awed and fascinated Bethany, a decidedly enrapturing set of gems she envied. Her own eyes, being a soft brown and comparatively more timid, were no match for the blazing resolve that burned behind Clarissa's eyes;
Clarissa's flame-red hair fell deliciously around her delicately sculpted face, accentuated by the blue tattoo she had over her right eye. Her own curls, jet-black and inconspicuous, lacked in charisma compared to the alluring sight that was her sister;
Clarissa's toned, well-defined physique had captivated Bethany whenever she laid eyes on it. Her sister's bronze skin showed off her womanly curves, making it a stunning spectacle even when encased in armor. Tough, swift and utterly sensual, it always managed to ignite a spark within a deep, dark corner of Bethany's consciousness, a spark that she vehemently hid and avoided. She herself was, to some degree, attractive as well, she knew that well enough from the coquettishly appreciative stares men frequently regarded her with. With Clarissa, however, she gave off a certain personal charm that Bethany could not match, a rugged beauty that she herself lacked.
"If only she wasn't my sister." Bethany wondered aloud, then berated herself for the direction of her thoughts. The Maker forbade such things, and rightly so. The Andrastian within her objected against such thoughts with a white-hot intensity that surprised her. The Chantry law forbids it, Bethany Hawke. Snap out of it.
But do you have to? A small voice echoed in her head, reminding Bethany of a certain violet-clad creature that had played on her needs, her wants, without reserve.
It's wrong.
Who says it's wrong?
The Chantry does.
And is the Chantry infallible? Is the way they hunt your kind smiled upon by the Maker? Are their purges and their preemptive slaughter justified by an almost non-existent threat?
Bethany shut her eyes and took a deep breath again. She didn't know she herself could be so... persuasive. The cool air failed to smother the smoldering fire in the bottom of her stomach, growing and growing as her face became flushed from the more... suggestive images that bubbled up in her mind.
Violet-blue eyes darkening with desire. Flame-red hair caught in her fingers as she runs her hand through her curls.Full lips only an breath away from her own, moving hypnotically as she whispered a name.
Her name.
She could almost see the demon smiling, watching with amusement as she wrestled with herself.
Struggle if you wish, mortal. Know that desire always triumphs in the end.
"Why? Why do you torment me so?" She literally screamed, half addressing the demon, half calling to the person she had loved, and now wanted.
A single voice teased her in her head, soft, lilting and seductive. 'Tis what you want, no?
Bethany's hand clenched uncontrollably. Icy blue magic converged at her enclosed palm, flickering in spasmodic twitches that bespoke her uncontrollable thoughts.
Turning around, she noticed a gaping dockworker staring openly at the nimbus of Mana gathered at her fore.
Eyes widening in alarm, she recomposed herself and left the dock in a hurry, leaving the teenaged boy staring after her in wonder.
In her haste, a confession broke through the resistance in her mind, as clear as a tolling bell.
Yes.
Clarissa Hawke shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Anders continued his examination of her, his hand casting soft blue shadows on her outstretched arm.
"A normal human venturing into the Fade is dangerous enough." He had said, pulling Clarissa out of the Lowtown market and into his dimly-lit clinic. "Not to mention your encounter with the demon. I have to make sure it hasn't left a trace of itself in you in some way."
It certainly got to me. Clarissa thought as she reminisced the demon's words, marvelling with a guilty pang at how good the words felt when they left the seductress's mouth.
Indeed, the demon may have been playing on her infatuation to lower her guard, but she couldn't dispute that at that moment, she wanted to take everything it offered.
She wanted it.
She wanted her.
Her mind wandering, she felt her eyes turn towards the docks, where she could almost see the jet-black hair flying in the wind. It felt like a constant star on the horizon, tugging at her wherever they were, however far apart they might be. She didn't notice Anders calling to her until he rapped his knuckles on the table.
"You're clear of any signs of demonic possession." He said, his brow furrowing as if her condition unnerved him.
"What's wrong?"
His eyes snapped from his reverie, and he shook his head wearily. "It's just that I find it hard to believe that you actually killed the demon." He murmured, hastily adding, "Ah, no offense."
"If it bleeds, it dies, right? Or does it work differently in the Fade?" Clarissa jokingly said.
"Demons are created by pure magic. Only magic can destroy them. Physical mortality in the Fade mean nothing to them. That's why only mages can survive in the Fade for prolonged periods of time. If you stab one with your sword or hit one with your arrow, they merely reincarnate."
"So they have to die by magic in a land of magic."
"That's essentially the point, yes."
"So? It's not dead, but it's gone."
Anders shook his head again. "With the close encounter you mentioned, the demon would have planted a shard of itself in you. Such is the way they hunt. Should their plans fail, they could rely on that fragment of their essence to gain possession."
"But it's not in me?"
"It is not."
"And that only occurs when..." Clarissa muttered, not liking the direction this discussion was headed.
"When the demon is dead."
"But you just said that I couldn't have killed it, not without magic."
"That's the problem." Anders tented his hands on the table, looking into Clarissa's eyes intently. The force of his gaze made Clarissa falter. Where'shegoingwiththis?
"Do you remember that moment outside the clinic, when Bethany was stabbed?" He asked, bluntly, as if not wanting to waste any time. Clarissa's heart flared with pain as the words reminded her of that split second, the split second where she almost lost everything.
Pain.
Blood.
Regret.
Anger.
Pain.
She remembered her hands closing tightly around the hilt, her sorrow rending her in two and her anger taking her over. She remembered the overwhelming strength that ran through her veins and the heart-wrenching sorrow that pushed her anger to even greater heights.
The next moments were a blur, a gap of indiscernible void as she sprang into action. All she remembered was the blood lining the walls after the ordeal, and the satisfying crackle as she brought an end to the monster that almost took her sister away from her.
Other than that, she recalled nothing. She recalled nothing that spoke of her unnatural feat, taking on dozens of warriors by herself, and emerging unscathed. She was proficient with a blade, that much she could say about herself with confidence. But even as she tried to remember what she did, she felt a slight, unexpected twitch in her heart that sent chills running down her spine.
What did I do?
Her pondering must have shown on her face, as Anders took her hand in his, stilling her trembling.
"Let me tell you what I saw."
The flames glowing dangerously as she grasped her sword, running along the length of the blade in silence as he felt Mana rushing by him, a winding river pooling into a lake, pouring into the woman with the steel bracer on her arm.
The flames never losing their intensity as she dove forward into the throng of men surrounding her, battering aside sword and shield like leaves before an autumn storm. The glowing piece of steel highlighting the bright red on the walls with crackling sparks as she sheathed her blade into one body after another, felling her prey with all the grace and precision of a hawk hungry for vengeance.
The flames burning in her eyes steaming the relentless flow of tears into puffs of white mist as she cried, expending her unending grief upon the hapless men with blow after blow. The sword flashed flame-red with every swing, matching the woman's flame-red hair and her depthless resolve.
The flames dying as her focus shifted to a certain person lying in a spreading pool of crimson, as her rage subsided, giving way to a pent-up grief that could never be expelled.
The first of her tears hit the ground.
"At first I thought my wounds were making me see things, but now, as I think of it, it's the only way everything can make sense." Anders said, adopting a curious tone that was the mixture of an unwanted sorrow and an eerie satisfaction.
"What... what are you trying to tell me?" Clarissa stood abruptly. The chair clattered unceremoniously to the floor.
"What if I told you that the Carta were behind the attack on you and Bethany?" Anders said, a probing air to his voice.
Clarissa blanched in surprise at his words.
"What if I told you that the largest criminal guild in Kirkwall has taken an interest in your family?"
What? Why would-
"What if I told you that the Carta hired an assassin, and paid him to subdue Bethany and lead you to them?"
He did so much more than that. A voice sounded in Clarissa's head, making old hatred resurface and replace the doubt she had in her mind. Her previous thoughts were swept away as if they were of no consequence as a boiling roil of emotions rose within her.
He put a knife through Bethany, your Bethany's heart. He nearly took her from you, and for what? A handful of gold?
Clarissa clenched her hands, fury filling her once again. How dare the Carta hurt her? How dare they try to take away what was hers?
"What if-" Anders' next words were cut off as a gleaming steel bracer silenced him, mail-backed gauntlets flexing open and closed in unrestrained anger.
"Then they shall die, slowly, painfully, as I died slowly, painfully as I wept for what I lost." The words were imbued with power as she uttered them, as if every syllable was an oath in itself.
The Carta.
So be it.
"Draw your sword, Clarissa." Anders said solemnly.
She did. The walls played a trick on her and moved as her hand moved, the shadows cast by the lit lanterns moving and shifting in crazy, erratic movements as her longsword left her sheath.
She gasped with disbelief at the formless flames running along the length of her blade, burning as bright as the emotions within her. Anders moved to her side and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Now, you see."
/Hi again!
Another difficult chapter to write, but an immensely enjoyable one. I hope the plot as of now is not so confusing. I'll try to keep it simple. (Like hell)
Again, I feel like more could be done with the *SPOILER ALERT* (for those of you who like me so much you read what I say before the story, which numbers to about... 0.5) twist I added in there. Let me know what you think! Do you feel the Legacy coming up? Cus I sure as hell do.
Thanks again, and keep reading!/