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Bethany bit down the yelp as her foot slipped on the slick rocks. Nevertheless, she maintained the glowing orb from her staff with expert control… not that it seemed to do much in the overbearing dark of the winding cave. She had long since lost sight of Isabella, no doubt far more adept at traversing the difficult terrain.
This was stupid.
She heard Cullen grunt grumpily behind her, seemingly sharing her own thoughts. Although she could only imagine how much more difficult the trek would be in a full suit of armour, it did make her smirk to imagine the scowl he was likely to be wearing.
"Well this is nice…" He huffed. "Remind me why I didn't want to scramble through this lovely tunnel?"
In spite of the gloom, Bethany found herself chuckling. "Are you saying you don't like the view from back there?"
"What view? It's too sodding dark!" The Templar bit back.
Bethany rolled her eyes. She should have expected the response really… she turned to face him, holding her staff up in front of her so she could see him.
He came to a halt when he noticed her watching him, his blonde curly hair wet and sticking to the sweat on his skin. His cheeks were flushed with the exertion, his expression un-amused.
She couldn't fight the smile any longer, something all too evident to the man before her. "I'm glad one of us is enjoying themselves." He grumbled, his brow furrowed in a disapproving frown.
"Nice view." She replied simply.
His eyebrows jumped to his hairline in surprise, although this was masked swiftly by an expression of indifference. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Bethany Hawke." He folded his arms in admonishment.
"Are you sure?" She asked playfully, taking a few steps towards him. She was rewarded for her efforts by the redness in his cheeks intensifying further.
He kept his rigid stance, however, eyeing her with a mixture of suspicion and enjoyment. She rested her free hand on his arm, this wouldn't be the first time she'd managed to get by his armour. Cullen glanced down at her touch, but his gaze returned to her face quickly. "This is 'bribery', not 'flattery'… bribery will get you everywhere."
"I was rather hoping you'd say that…" The mage's smile widened as she leaned in. She noted with some smugness the soft expression upon Cullen's features, before closing her eyes as their lips touched. Although the embrace should have been cold, given their dank surroundings and the coolness of his armour, there was a warmth to it that Bethany couldn't deny. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, pressing her body against his.
She threw her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, a sense of desire washing over any other thoughts she may have had.
"Not the most romantic setting, if you ask me."
The pair broke away from each other quickly. Although she knew the voice could only belong to Isabella, instinct had taken over, if they had been caught in such an embrace at the Circle… the consequences didn't bear thinking about.
She scowled at the pirate, "No one asked you!" She instantly regretted the weakness of her own comeback. If Kestra had been there she would never have heard the end of it. An opinion that Isabella apparently shared when the grin widened.
"Tsk tsk… I think someone needs to get lessons from Big Sister in the art of sarcasm…"
"Can we at please stay focused on the task at hand?" Cullen interrupted, waving an armoured arm towards Isabella to try and distract attention.
The Rivaini blinked as if shocked… although Bethany noticed that the smirk still played on her lips. "I'm not the one wasting time kissing in the dark."
"Did you find anything or not? That's why you ran on ahead, right?" The Circle mage gave the other woman a dark look, one that she hoped said simply 'drop it'. It seemed to work, although Bethany had no idea how long for.
Isabella shrugged. "Only the exit. I told you it wasn't far."
"I recall you saying that some time ago…" The man beside her grumbled.
"Not my fault you're easily distracted." The pirate chirped happily, though the mage noticed that she turned her back to them before Bethany could respond. "This way, my little love birds…" She waved as she slinked into the darkness once more.
Bethany and Cullen shared a look of exasperation before making after her.
…
A fire flickered in the grate of her inn room, casting a warming glow on its three current residents. Given how rustic the building had appeared from the outside, Hawke had been surprised at the level of comfort within. Although nowhere near as opulent as the mansions of High Town, there was a sense of luxury that seemed impossible to ignore… but then again, these chambers were supposedly fit for a King…
The state of their accommodation was the least of her concerns.
Alistair was lucky he'd been summoned to the castle… because if he'd been there she'd have killed him.
Hawke looked up with some trepidation at the garments the maid had lain on the bed. A long white shift to go underneath the dark green skirts… and a red corset of all things.
She honestly didn't know what to say, her mouth open with shock.
After a few more moments of swollen silence, she eventually found her voice. "I'm not wearing that." She stated, and she meant every word.
"Well, I think you'll look lovely. Don't you think so too, Anders?"
Hawke twisted to glare at the healer before he could speak. There was a blush across his cheeks, she noticed as he cleared his throat. "…well… if that's what's traditional around her, who are we to argue?"
"Exactly!" Merrill chimed, picking up the corset and examining the cords at the back with some curiosity. "And you've seen it yourself, it's what everyone around here is wearing!"
"I'm not from around here…" Hawke grumbled her objections, snatching the garment from the elf.
"Yes… well… that's the point, isn't it? We're trying to fit in…" Merrill offered a little more sheepishly, although she clearly wasn't deterred enough to leave the matter be.
Hawke sighed out her frustration and tossed the clothing back onto the bed. "Why does my fitting in always end up with me wearing stupid clothes?"
"… and just when might these occasions have been?" Anders seemed interested, "Because Maker knows I've never seen you in anything like… that." His eyes drifted to the outfit on the bed.
"How about when we did that job for Tallis?"
He gave her a strained look. "That was hardly the same thing."
"True…" Hawke conceded thoughtfully. "At least I was allowed to wear trousers… Well what about that time we went to that Ceilidh with Merrill's clan?"
"Hawke… we all looked stupid…" Anders groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory.
Merrill frowned. "You all looked wonderful… that was the clan's traditional dress…"
"Then tell me Merrill, why was no one else wearing it besides us?" The healer asked scathingly.
She seemed affronted, although still not angry… more confused, as if it should have been obvious. "You were the guests of honour."
"Everyone's laughter suggested otherwise." Hawke pointed out.
"Anyway…" Merrill pressed, apparently suddenly eager to change the subject. "That's twice, Hawke, twice is hardly 'always'."
"Well what about that time with the Viscount's ball when Mother…" Her voice trailed away, realising suddenly the true reason behind her reticence… and it wasn't just because she was frightened of looking stupid.
Even though Leandra had a sharp tongue in her head, she had always tried her best for her children. When Bethany had been sent to the Circle, her concentration had turned to her older daughter, seemingly determined that one of her children would be happy.
So she did that the only way she had known how.
Buying dresses and inviting suitors.
I will find you a suitable husband if it kills me.
She didn't know whether to smile or cry recalling those words. Recalling all the arguments that had arisen when she would inevitably slam the door in a gentleman caller's face. All the chastising her mother would give before eventually convincing her daughter to wear something other than her armour.
At the time it had felt like meddling, but now she could see it for what it had been.
"Hawke…" Anders voice was soft as his hand rested on her shoulder.
Realising that she had been lost in thought and must have been quiet for some time, she looked up at him, her eyes burning with emotions she was desperately holding back.
"I'm fine." She smiled, although she doubted she was fooling anyone. "Just remembering something."
He gave her an understanding smile, letting her know beyond doubt he knew exactly what she was thinking about. "Perhaps we should give you some space to get changed? Come on, Merrill, let's see if we can't find a herb merchant somewhere nearby."
In spite of the elf's numerous protests, the healer managed to usher her out of the door and Hawke was relieved when it clicked to a close.
She reminded herself that they were here for a reason, and that reason was not so she could feel sorry for herself.
She thought of Sebastian.
She thought of Varric.
But most of all, she thought of Fenris.
Ija had said she would hurt him, and having seen what that woman was capable of it made her shudder to think what state he would be in by now… if he was even still alive.
Hawke pushed that thought away. There would be no sense in capturing them to kill them, and while they were still alive, there was still hope that she would be reunited with her friends.
The swordswoman looked around the now quiet room, the crackling from the fireplace the only sound. She glanced again at the clothes on her bed and with a grunt began unstrapping her armour.
Is this what you'd have chosen for me, Mother?
…
Needless to say, it was not the way he had ever envisaged returning home.
Sebastian glanced around the dimly lit cell, not that there was much to see.
"So do you think they'll throw you a 'welcome home' party, Choir Boy?" The dwarf beside him intruded into the silence.
The archer sighed at the sarcasm, "Please, Varric, carry on. I'm sure that a healthy sense of humour is all we need to survive this."
"Well… they can't kill you until they get the stone. I, one the other hand, am expendable… so you'll forgive me for taking small pleasures where I can." He shifted in his seated position as if trying to get more comfortable, but Sebastian didn't know what he hoped to achieve on the cold stone floor. "My backside is freezing." He stated with a groan.
"Tell some more jokes, I'm sure it will warm up soon." The prince smirked.
"See? Now don't you feel all better?"
Sebastian closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall behind him. Although cold and damp, it was some support at least for his aching neck. "More like 'resigned'… to my fate. Tell me Varric… do you think that this is the Maker's will?"
There was a pause. "What?"
The archer sighed, unsure of whether to voice his thoughts to his fellow captive. But the only thing he knew was that he didn't know anything about what would happen. Would they see anyone they cared for again? Would these people get the stone? "I asked you if you think this is the Maker's will? What if he means for the stone to be activated? What if all of this is meant to happen?"
Another pause. "Sorry, Choir Boy, you're going to have to walk me through that one…"
"I'm saying that what if the Maker truly does mean to sever mages in Starkhaven from the Fade? What if this is all part of his plan?"
"Uhm… I may not know much about the Maker… or Andraste… but… and please correct me if I'm wrong, but those people up there are bad people. They hurt people. They kill people… and they don't do it because they're trying to make the world a better place.
They hurt our friends… good people who try to stand up to injustice in this world… and quite honestly, Choir Boy… if your 'Maker' wants to help people like them… I'm not sure what the hell you've been praying to all these years, because I will fight him with every fibre of my being." The merchant's tone was cold, serious… a far cry from the flippant manner Sebastian was used to.
He was right, of course. The Maker he knew would never condone such action. Why gift the world with magic, just to rip it away?
The stone had been created by man… not a divine entity. And what right did man have to question the Maker's will?
The archer found himself smiling at his companion, something Varric seemed to find confusing. The anger he had previously worn gave way to a quizzical expression. "… what?" He asked eventually.
"Such a strange thing… that when I, a man of the Chantry, is having a crisis of faith, that it should be someone like you to reaffirm it."
"I have faith, Choir Boy… just not especially in your Maker. I got faith in people."
"Not all people are like Hawke."
The dwarf chuckled. "Not all people have to be to make the difference."
The conversation came to a halt when they heard footsteps approaching… and what seemed to be the sound of something being dragged. Varric was rigid, a look of concentration writ across his features.
"What do you think they're bringing?" Sebastian asked in a low voice.
"I don't know, Choir Boy, but it's not likely to be a bed with feather pillows, is it?"
The archer saw the boots in the space between the door and the floor, the jangling of keys accompanied by the grunts of someone clearly in pain.
The door swung open and the elf fell into the room heavily to the cold stone floor. Fenris lay there, his bare back displaying deep, bleeding wounds, flesh missing. His blackened and swollen eyes were flickering, his breathing shallow and ragged.
Sebastian felt shock steal his breath and words refused to even form in his mind let alone reach his tongue. The savagery of what he was seeing rocked him to his core.
He barely even noticed when the woman stepped in to the room, unable to tear his eyes from his friend's broken body.
"What have you done to him?!" He managed to growl out, his eyes rose to take in the sight of the smiling woman and his stomach turned. He couldn't imagine hurting anyone in the ways inflicted on Fenris… but he certainly couldn't even begin to conceive enjoying it.
"What haven't I done to him?" She replied coolly.
"…Elf…" He heard Varric mumble weakly, reaching for his friend in vain. Sebastian had never seen the merchant wear such an expression. One of utter despair, defeat and anguish. Ija had apparently noticed this as well and her smile widened, clearly she had had the desired effect.
Rage flooded him, tearing away the remnants of shock that had held his body. He surged to his feet to charge her.
He didn't get far. The chains that held him rattled as he strained against them. "You think that your barbarity will convince me to help you? Do what you will to me, but you will never have the stone's power… I will see to that…"
Her eyebrow arched as she leaned in, clearly not concerned with his outburst. "Oh? And just how do you plan on doing that when you're chained up down here?"
"You can torture me all you want… I will never help you!" He spat. She was trying to get in his head. She was trying to make him unsure, to slip up. He was determined it wouldn't work.
She sighed, as if bored. "Who says I'll be torturing you?"
"I may not have my crossbow…" The dwarf beside him rumbled, his voice full of cold anger. "But, lady, I guarantee you… if you take off these chains you won't be alive for very long…"
She laughed, a mirthless laugh, a cruel laugh. "My my… what big words for such a little man… well you can rest assured, harming you isn't on my agenda… unless I get bored…"
"So, what?" The merchant also rose to his feet, slowly with deliberation. "You just get your kicks from tormenting elves?"
She gave him a knowing smile. "I don't have a particular preference. His wounds are merely a means to an end… and although any of you would have done, I think this is particularly poetic."
There was a loaded pause. Sebastian studied her stance as she looked between them clearly waiting for them to realise the meaning behind at words… or at least ask for an explanation. The archer felt his jaw clench. He wouldn't give this woman the satisfaction.
After a few moments, both men glaring at her with bloody murder in mind, she rolled her eyes with a smirk. "Oh, never mind. I suppose you'll find out soon enough." She looked to the two mercenaries standing in the doorway, watching on. Neither had uttered a single word, and both seemed desperate to be anywhere but where they were. They started nervously when she addressed them. "Strap him to that wall," she pushed Fenris with her boot, "I suppose I can let him recover for a little while before we continue."
The elf took a sharp breath and whimpered, a sound Sebastian had never expected to hear from the proud fighter. His eyes fluttered open as the men took an arm each to drag him to the wall opposite. Ija made to leave… she surely didn't mean to…?
Alarm filled the fugitive prince. "Wait!" He barked. "You must let us tend to his wounds!"
The dark haired woman stopped in the doorway, although she didn't turn to face him. "And why is that, exactly?" She asked, a playful tone to her voice. Sebastian felt a chill run down his spine… and he realised all of this was calculated. She was playing games… and the archer understood if they wanted to keep Fenris alive long enough to reunite him with Hawke… he'd better co-operate.
"These conditions… the wounds are too deep… you run the risk of infection if you leave him like this…"
"He's the one who would be dying… I'm not risking anything."
"Please…" Sebastian pleaded, the resolve and anger of earlier giving way to the desperate need to save his friend. "You were hurting him for a reason, correct? He can't be of use to you if he's dead…"
She huffed out a sigh as she turned, sounding more like a sullen child than someone who had three men's lives in her hands. Elthina had once told him that revenge was never the answer… but he supposed this would be a forgivable exception. "Fine… I'll send for some supplies. Remove the craven prince's chains…" She barked to the men who set Fenris down, "but leave the dwarf be."
Sebastian tried to mask the sigh of utter relief.
"I'll be back down by the end of the day," she told him, "so make sure you don't waste any time trying to escape. And do a good job… I can't kill him in front of his beloved Hawke if he's already dead."
….
