Title: Silent Lucidity

Author: The Forgotten Scribe

Rating: T

Characters/Pairing: sisterly F!Hawke/Bethany

Summary: Bethany is a target for danger in more ways than one. Three times Marian arrived in the nick of time, and the one time she refused to let it happen again.

Warnings: attempted rape, reference to suicide, dark tone and themes overall

The first time, not much happened at all.

"Drink up, Bethany!" Marian tossed back a shot of her own whiskey and set the glass down on the bar with a clunk, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. Her cheeks already held a rosy glow–this was far from her first drink of the night—but she showed no signs of slowing down. "Tonight was a job well done, and for once we got to keep a decent cut of the pay."

"It is a nice change from handing every last coin over to Meeran," Bethany admitted, though she made no move to pick up the glass of whiskey on the bar in front of her. She didn't like the taste nearly as much as Marian did, and at least one of them had to stay sober enough to keep an eye out for templars. Not that the righteous pigs tended to stray into the Hanged Man too often, but one couldn't be too careful. Especially not in Kirkwall.

"So what're you holding back for? Drinks are on me!" Marian waggled her eyebrows at her sister, making Bethany laugh in spite of her embarrassment.

"I don't think it's a good idea for us both to be drunk, sister."

"What, in case a lost templar finds his way in here?" Marian scoffed loudly, making the bartender sigh and roll his eyes in her direction. "Tell you what, Beth, you stay here and keep a lookout for a minute or two. I've got an appointment with the latrine."

"Right," Bethany said, shaking her head and fighting a smile.

"And I don't want to see any whiskey left in that glass when I get back," Marian shot over her shoulder as she walked off.

Bethany wasn't alone at the bar for long. After just a moment or two, she sensed a presence at her shoulder and glanced up, surprised to see Marian back so soon.

"Can't find your way to the—Oh." It wasn't Marian.

"What a surprise," drawled the dark-haired, broad-shouldered man standing over her. It was Xavier, another mercenary working for the Red Iron whom Bethany had met once or twice, though he hadn't accompanied her and Marian on the assignment whose success they were celebrating tonight. He had hard brown eyes and a scar across the bridge of his nose, much like Marian's tattoo, and if Bethany were honest, she had never liked him all that much. "It's Hawke's little birdie sister. Brittany, wasn't it?"

"Bethany." Bethany shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with his close proximity. She could smell the whiskey on his breath. "It's… nice to see you, Xavier."

"This seat taken?" He sat down on the stool next to Bethany without waiting for an answer.

"It's my sister's, actually."

She couldn't help being amused by the brief flicker of unease that crossed Xavier's face as he glanced over his shoulder. Even after only a few short months in Meeran's employ, Marian had already made an impression on most of his thugs. When Xavier didn't see the older Hawke sibling anywhere in the crowded tavern, though, he faced Bethany again with an ugly smirk. "Should've guessed. It's rare to find you alone, birdie. Usually Hawke's hovering at your shoulder like a bloody mother hen."

And that's quite enough bird references, thank you. "She's protective," Bethany said neutrally.

"Well, maybe we can chat for a bit before your bodyguard gets back." Xavier leaned closer, assaulting Bethany with a wave of his reeking breath. "Or maybe… do more than chat. I always thought you were the prettier sister, myself. Hawke's hard as nails, but you're… all curves."

Bethany froze. Xavier's hand had crept onto her thigh, his thick fingers splayed over her skin. "Stop touching me," she said.

"Don't play shy, birdie." Xavier's mouth was next to her ear now, his breath hot on her neck. "I know you quiet types are all just waiting for a real man to spread your legs. Can't get any action with your sister breathing down your neck all the time, can you?"

"Get away from her, Xavier," said a cold voice from behind them. Xavier jerked away from Bethany immediately, his hand leaving her thigh and reaching for the hilt of the knife at his belt. Letting out a relieved breath, Bethany turned her head to see Marian standing a few feet away, looking a good deal more sober than a few minutes before, her blue eyes as hard and dangerous as thin ice. "And don't go for that knife unless you want to lose the hand."

"Piss off, Hawke," Xavier spat, pushing back his stool and standing up. He did let go of the knife hilt, though. "Your sister's twice as comely as you are. You can't watch her every second of every day for the rest of her life."

"I wouldn't count on it." Marian didn't reach for her own knife. She didn't have to. Just the way she squared her shoulders and stared at Xavier was enough. "Next time you won't hear me coming."

"Bitch," Xavier muttered, before turning and walking away.

Marian slid onto the stool he had vacated, her narrowed eyes following him all the way to the door of the Hanged Man. Only after he was out of sight did she blink and turn to face Bethany. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly.

Bethany nodded. "Yes."

"You should have burnt his fingerprints off."

"You know I can't use magic here." Bethany glanced around the tavern in an effort to dispel the sensation of being watched. It followed her everywhere these days; she couldn't ever shake the feeling that there were templars just around the corner, ready to drag her away. Once upon a time, just being with Hawke was enough to quell her fears, but now Bethany was old enough to know that there wasn't much even her big sister could do if the templars caught up to them. "And Xavier doesn't know I'm a mage. Meeran didn't tell all his men."

Marian gave a dissatisfied grunt and stared down at her empty glass. "I'm not in the mood to celebrate anymore. Let's go home."

The second time, Bethany was more terrified than she'd been since the day Carver had died.

"Don't scream unless you want to spend the night in jail," the templar growled, placing his hands on either side of Bethany's shoulders and trapping her against the stone wall of the alley. He pressed his face against her cheek, making her cringe at the feel of his stubble scratching her skin. "I'll tell the city guard you were whoring it up and stole a man's coin purse."

"Please," Bethany said, hating how weak and broken her voice sounded. She was nearly immobilized with fear at having a templar so close. There was no way she could escape him without using magic, he was much too strong, and if she used magic he would kill her on the spot. The only way she could get out of this alive was to do anything she could to keep him from finding out the random girl he'd cornered in an alley was really an apostate. "I'll give you anything you want. Just don't touch me."

"What in the Maker's name do you think I want, whore?" His hand pawed at her chest and Bethany had to physically restrain herself from turning him into a fireball. "Just hold still."

He had her skirt pulled halfway up her thigh when Bethany caught sight of the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her life over his shoulder: Marian stopping in her tracks at the mouth of the alley, her jaw dropping and hands flying to her knives. "What in the hells…"

"Get out of here, bitch!" the templar hissed without turning his head. "Or you'll be next."

Marian's eyes were blazing, but she managed to hold herself together. She locked eyes with Bethany over the templar's shoulder and placed a finger against her lips, creeping noiselessly down the alley toward them.

"Don't scream," the templar repeated, his lips pressed against the skin just above Bethany's breasts, a moment before Marian's knife pierced the back of his neck and came out through his windpipe.

"Don't scream," Marian said, her voice thick with hatred, as the templar's body slid off the end of her blade and crumpled to the alley floor in a clanging heap of plate mail. "Oh, wait. You can't."

"Thank the Maker," Bethany choked out, trembling and staring at the dead templar.

"Bethany." Marian slid her knife back into its sheath and took Bethany in her arms, supporting her sister as she shook against her, stroking Bethany's hair like they were children again and she was ill. "It's all right. It was just one templar. Now hurry, we have to get out of here before somebody finds him."

"They'll find me," Bethany whispered, horrified, clutching at her sister and refusing to let go. "They'll know you killed him."

"No, Beth, nobody's going to find you. Not templars, not darkspawn, not even drunken sailors. I won't let anyone take you away, I promise. Now let's go home."

The third time, Marian was almost too late.

"No, no, no, no," Bethany cried out, over and over, but there were too many of them, holding her down, and there were templars just around the corner, she had seen them, and Xavier was there, standing over her and watching her struggle against the hands that pinned her to the ground, his eyes dark with cruel triumph.

"Where's your sister now, birdie?" he said, spitting at her feet. "I don't think the great Hawke is going to come swooping to the rescue this time, boys. We can all have a turn before we stick her in the belly and leave her to die."

"I don't know if it's a good idea to kill her, Xavier," said one of the men holding Bethany down as she kicked and struggled, giving Xavier a concerned look. "Hawke won't stop until we're all dead."

"The scarfaced bitch can't kill us all, idiot. She's next on my list, anyway. Just hold her down until I'm done." Xavier kicked Bethany's legs apart and knelt between them, unbuttoning his trousers. "You think you can keep your virtue all to yourself, birdie? Just waltz in here with your big shot sister and sit back looking pretty while she does all the work, kisses Meeran's ass and gets all the good jobs, and doesn't leave shit for the rest of us? She'll learn her place. But not until after we're done with you."

"Shit!" one of the men yelled suddenly, letting go of Bethany's ankle and scrambling backward across the ground, his wide eyes locked on something over her shoulder. "It's—"

He fell backward, silenced, the hilt of a knife protruding from his throat.

"Me," finished a familiar voice, and Bethany closed her eyes and let her body sag in relief.

She heard the fighting but didn't dare open her eyes to watch. Everything blended together in a long, bloody cacophony of shouts and wet crunches and gurgling screams, hot wet liquid splattering onto Bethany's arms and legs as she lay on the floor of the alley, until at last everything was quiet and there were cool hands on her face and in her hair, a familiar touch that coaxed her into opening her eyes. Marian knelt by her side, her blue eyes wide and more frightened than Bethany had seen them since that day outside Lothering. "Beth, please Beth, tell me you're okay. Tell me they didn't…"

Bethany forced a deep breath into her lungs and shook her head. Marian's face crumpled in relief and she gathered Bethany into her arms, pulling her up from the ground, holding her even tighter than after that templar had gotten his hands on her.

"Beth, it's never going to happen again. I promise."

"That's what you said last time," Bethany whispered, and felt Marian's body tense against hers.

"I know," she said, sounding broken, and pressed her lips against Marian's hair. "But this time I really mean it. I'm going to protect you. I will not lose you."

Bethany believed her, and that was what scared her into squeezing Marian even tighter than Marian was holding her. "Sister…"

"Come on." Marian tore herself away and took Bethany's hand. "Let's go home."

There would never be a fourth time.

Marian stood in front of Meeran's desk at the Red Iron mercenary base in Lowtown, her arms stiff by her sides, waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. He hadn't looked up since she'd entered his office ten minutes ago. It was just another way for him to assert his control over her; ever since Marian had made the mistake of mouthing off a few too many times after assignments, when she had to hand over all the bloody, hard-earned coin she'd found, Meeran had made it his priority to keep her aware of who was really in charge here.

"Meeran," she said finally, breaking the silence. The games weren't really important anymore. "We need to talk."

Putting down his pen, Meeran slowly leaned back in his chair, fixing her with a hard-eyed stare. Marian refused to be intimidated, but it wasn't easy; Meeran had made a living off that stare. "What about, Hawke?"

"My sister."

"The apostate." Meeran curled his lip. "I have to say, she isn't really living up to expectations. I swear, the next time I ask for the pretty mage and get the unstable, smart-mouthed, alcoholic sister instead, I'm going to add another year onto both your contracts. When I hired the two of you on, I thought I was actually getting two mercenaries, not one-and-a-half."

"We do all the work you ask of us, and we get the job done better than anybody else." Marian raised her chin, refusing to look away from Meeran. "What does it matter which of us does it?"

"It matters because I'm sick of seeing your tattooed face every time I turn around. Your mage sister's much easier on the eyes."

"That's why we need to talk." Marian placed her hands on the edge of Meeran's desk and leaned forward, staring unblinkingly into his narrowed eyes. "Tell your thugs to keep their hands off my sister, or I'll kill them all."

"I had a feeling that was your work in the alley outside the Gallows a few nights ago." Meeran didn't blink, either. He looked much more at ease than Marian thought he should, given the situation. "Xavier was one of my best men."

"I'm better."

"Don't overestimate your worth, Hawke. I own you and your sister. A word from me and the templars can put their hands all over her." A cruel smile formed on Meeran's face. "And what will you do when the templars drag her off to the Gallows? Drink yourself to death at the Hanged Man for failing your family again? You should just throw yourself into the harbor, end it that way. It'll be much less messy."

"I'm not going anywhere, Meeran."

"That's a lie. I've seen men's eyes that looked like yours. There's nothing inside you, Hawke. You lost it all when you let your brother die. There's nothing you care about anymore. It's only a matter of time before you just let go."

"How…" Marian forced down the bile rising in her throat, the awful sick feeling that gripped her every time she thought of Carver. "How do you know about my brother?"

"Gamlen's a chatty drunk. Heard you stood there and watched an ogre turn your kid brother into jelly, Hawke. The same kid brother you dragged off the field at Ostagar just in time to save his life, only to turn around and let him die."

"Shut up," Marian rasped. "You're wrong. I'd never leave Bethany."

"That's right. She's all you have. You'd do anything to protect her, wouldn't you?" Meeran leaned forward and rested his chin on his laced fingers, letting his eyes travel the length of Hawke's body with impunity. "Anything. It wouldn't even be a sacrifice. It's purely selfish. She's all that keeps you going."

"Call your men off, Meeran. I won't ask again."

He smiled and shook his head, reaching out across the desk to trail a calloused hand across her hip. Marian shuddered but remained still, staring at him with thinly masked hatred. "You'd do anything to keep from failing her like you failed your brother. You watched him die and you nearly stood there and watched your sister get split open like a whore, didn't you?"

Marian clenched her teeth hard enough for pain to lance through her jaw, struggling to ignore the sickening heat of Meeran's fingers on her thigh. "Call your men off."

"You first, Hawke. What will you give me?"

Marian closed her eyes.

"Anything."

It was the dead of night when Marian came back to the Lowtown shack, just an hour or two before dawn, but even fast asleep Bethany still knew the instant her sister stepped through the front door. She opened her eyes in the darkness, listening to Marian's footsteps creaking slowly across the floorboards, the gait just a little uneven, like she was either drunk or limping.

Bethany lay still on the floor, next to their mother, who was snoring quietly, and across the room from Gamlen, who was passed out drunk and dead to the world till morning. She had left the spot by the fire open for Marian, knowing that her sister would only take it if Bethany and her mother were both already asleep somewhere else. From within the folds of her blanket, she watched Marian walk slowly to the fire and stand in front of the flames, silhouetted by the orange glow.

Bethany could tell by the way her sister held herself, and the way her hands trembled slightly, that she hadn't had a drop to drink in the last twenty-four hours.

"Sister?" she whispered.

Marian turned around. It was hard to see her face with the fire at her back, but Bethany thought she caught a brief glimpse of guilt in her sister's eyes. But that didn't make any sense, so she was probably wrong. "Go back to sleep, Beth."

"Something's wrong." Bethany sat up, her chest tight with anxiety. "I can tell."

Marian shook her head. "Shh. You'll wake Mother." She crouched in front of Bethany, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Everything's all right."

"No, sister…"

"I promise." Marian's voice was hollow, and there was no light in her eyes. "Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you. I won't fail you again."

"Marian," Bethany choked, knowing that something was terribly wrong.

Marian withdrew her hand and stood up, suddenly tall and dark and distant, too far away for Bethany to touch.

"Go to sleep, Beth. You're safe. I'm here."