Paradise Circus

Chapter 1

It was just another flight of stairs.

That was all Kirkwall really was - another flight to stumble down or drag yourself up - and Bethany found herself wondering, as she stared down at the docks three stories below, if the Gallows had many stairs. Perhaps they would let her live on the ground floor, or up in a tower where she would never have to climb down again. She was tired of stairs. She was tired of stairs, and she was tired of running, and she was just so tired…

She took a deep breath. It was just another flight of stairs, and one foot in front of the other had always worked in the past. It had been one foot in front of the other since Lothering.

Mother would forgive her.

And she would forgive herself if she had to close her eyes to take that first step, lifting up her foot and letting it fall into the abyss-

"Bethany."

She yelped, eyes shooting open and hand rising to cover her mouth as she turned. That voice-

"Athenril?"

The smuggler leaned against the center divider of the staircase, where crates were hauled up and slid back down daily, with one brow quirked and her arms folded over her chest. Bethany hadn't seen her since Marian had let that boy run off with her shipment, and at the moment, she wasn't exactly somebody Bethany wanted to see. She didn't need an old employer with a chip on her shoulder here to delay her from what was likely going to be the most important decision of her life.

But the elf was definitely looking at her, and, with a smooth push from the wall, was definitely getting in between Bethany and the docks below. Standing two steps down made made Athenril even smaller, and Bethany wasn't sure if she should loom or join her or just retreat and hope the other woman followed. She ended up simply standing there, fiddling with her cuff and waiting.

And waiting.

Bethany chewed at her lower lip as Athenril's gaze drifted up and down her body, and finally came to rest on her mouth.

"You have your staff, and nothing over your face."

"I- yes. That's true." Her staff didn't look like a mage's staff; it had no skull crowning it, and the blade was long enough to make it look like a polearm. But any other day, she wouldn't have stepped out under the sun hinting at what she was without a scarf covering her nose and mouth. It was a precaution she'd learned early on in Kirkwall - at Athenril's hands.

But there was no point in hiding, and as her cheeks began to heat, she hoped that Athenril wasn't so perceptive that she would figure it all out.

Athenril sighed. "What am I going to do with you?" She held out a hand and beckoned as she climbed the few steps to where Bethany stood. "Come on. We need to talk."

"But I-"

"It's about your sister," she said with absolutely no change in her expression. Her lips remained firm and her gaze level. They had never spent much time together, and Bethany wasn't sure how to read her body language, not like this, not in broad daylight. Marian had kept between them, trying to shield Bethany from the worst of what they did. At the time she had appreciated it. Now she regretted it, because she couldn't tell if Athenril's evenness came from the weight of bad news or in the absence of it.

"Come on," she said, and Bethany felt her heart sink lower. She thought she had reached the bottom days ago, when a templar had come suspiciously close to the stairs up to Gamlen's house and she had checked the date and seen that it had been one month since Marian had left with the expedition. But now, her heart seemed to go down beneath the very stone.

It was a long way down those stairs, and, swallowing, she backed away from them.

"Good girl," Athenril said, and with a jerk of her head led the way towards one of the innumerable back alleys. Bethany followed, mouth dry and throat closed. A month was what Marian had told her. We'll be back in a month, maybe two. But without Marian and without Varric in Kirkwall, the templars had begun to notice more- and Bethany had wondered about the flow of coin into pockets.

And then she'd found herself at the stairs to the docks, because it would be far better for everybody if the templars didn't drag her kicking and screaming out of the house. If Marian didn't come back- if something had happened to Marian-

Athenril stopped before they reached the next bend in the alley and turned to her, settling one shoulder against the closest wall and crossing her legs at the ankle. "Before she left, your sister came to talk to me. To repair old relations."

"Oh." Bethany lifted a hand to tug at her kerchief, running the fabric between thumb and forefinger out of habit to keep her nerves in check. "I- oh. She didn't tell me. But that's- good?"

"It leaves me with one less potential enemy. I like to think that's good." Her smile was thin, and then banished with a clearing of her throat. "Anyway. She came to me because, if something went wrong with the expedition, she wanted me to take care of you."

If something went wrong. Any remaining color drained from Bethany's face, and she leaned heavily against the opposite wall. "Do you have news, then?"

"No more than you," Athenril said with a shrug.

"Which is to say, none at all." She tugged at her kerchief again, pulling it around until she could fuss with the knot. "What, then?"

"I'm here to take care of you. She said, and I quote, 'If I'm not back in a month, get Bethany out of Kirkwall'."

"Out of-"

"My guess is that her bribe funds are beginning to run out. Especially if you aren't the one managing them. Aveline certainly isn't." She laughed, low and soft, and Bethany scowled. "I'm right, aren't I? Templars coming knocking?"

"Almost. They're getting close." She tugged hard enough that her head bowed forward, then forced her fingers to loosen, not looking up.

"And then I find you, about to take a stroll down to the docks. And you hate ships and fish, and I very much doubt you were going down there to find a quick tumble like your Rivaini friend-"

"Stop."

"I was just going to bribe the templars again on her behalf and have her pay back with interest when she returns with all the gold she's going to find in the Deep Roads. But I think your sister's right, and getting you out of Kirkwall's the best idea."

Athenril's leathers creaked as she pushed away from the wall and crossed the small space between them. Bethany looked up, frown firmly in place and toe tapping.

"So what do you say? We leave the city for a little while, I keep you safe, and nobody ends up in the Gallows, willingly or otherwise."

"I can go to the Gallows if I want to."

"Yes, you can. But your sister would prefer it if you didn't, and I didn't keep the templars off your ass for an entire year to have you turn around and make all that coin next to worthless." She shook her head. "Besides, I have just the project for us."

Bethany pressed herself back more firmly to the wall, staff hard between the stone and her spine. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because when your sister comes home - and she will come home - she will be very wealthy. She has the damnedest luck. And because," Athenril said, lips quirking, "I've always liked you. A little naive, but you've got a good head on your shoulders. Like I said, I have just the thing. And Kirkwall is absolutely miserable this time of year.

"And I don't think you really want to go to the Gallows," Athenril added.

Bethany bit her lip again, worrying at the already-worried flesh. "I want…" Words failed, and she exhaled shakily, toe switching from tapping to digging into the broken stone beneath her. "I want…"

Athenril said nothing, only rocking back on her heels and waiting, brow quirked and smile fading.

She looked in the direction of the harbor, even though she couldn't see the water and couldn't see the towers further out. Did she really, truly want to live there, for the rest of her life? Once, an escaped apostate from Kinloch Hold had found her father, had come looking for shelter. Bethany hadn't been much older than twelve, but for the night that the woman had stayed, she had kept close and listened to stories. Kinloch hadn't sounded so bad to her then, except that it was full of templars.

But the stories about the Gallows were much darker.

She swallowed. "I want to stop running."

"Don't think of this as running, Bethany," Athenril said as she motioned for Bethany to follow her back out to the main thoroughfare. "Think of this as going into business - and on an adventure. Think of it as an exciting vacation."

Vacation, she thought with a miserable sort of smile. That was something for nobility. Mother would be so proud.

"I'm sorry, I just can't imagine that Marian would agree to something like this," Leandra said, wringing her hands in between crossing her arms over her chest. She was still in her finery from a day spent trying to get an audience with the Viscount. She was close, she had said when Bethany walked in the door and Athenril was still out of sight. Close, it could be as soon as next week, she'd said, and Bethany's throat had gone dry again as she nodded and heard Athenril step up behind her.

Bethany, she'd said, why is she with you? Bethany, why do you have your staff?

Her staff now rested against the nearby wall, by Athenril, and she kept her eyes fixed on the changes of smalls she stuffed into the sack at her feet, the extra set of robes, a few bits from Lothering she would hate to lose but would hate even more to be without. She hesitated as she reached for her dagger.

Marian had given it to her when they made Gwaren, before they all took ship to Amaranthine and then on to Kirkwall.

She'd flown all the way to Gwaren on a dragon - and yet couldn't say a word, couldn't even tell herself that this was the right decision. She bit her lip and shoved it into the sack, then cinched it tight.

"Bethany, look at me," Leandra said. Bethany could hear the tears edging into her voice and finally looked up, taking a breath to still her own. "You aren't really going, are you?"

"It's not for good, Mother," she said with the greatest smile she could find. For a moment she wondered if she should tell her that it was either this or the Gallows for her, but those words didn't so much catch in her throat as get strangled and drowned in the pit of her stomach. Turning, she hefted her sack up (unbearably, embarrassingly light, but what else did she have to her name aside from family?) and passed it to Athenril, who took it without comment.

One foot in front of the other.

"Oh, let the girl go if she's so determined," Gamlen offered from the other side room, and Bethany winced.

"Gamlen!" Leandra said, turning and glaring towards the door to his room.

"Well, it gives the lot of us more space, and I don't know about you but I am sick of hearing clanking by the window at night. I'm sure she is, too. Isn't that right, girl?"

Bethany stooped to search for her veil and to begin filling the pouches at her hips with ingredients for poultices. Elegant had taught her how to make a few, and dried elfroot was less expensive and easier to carry that fragile glass bottles.

"I do have a name," Bethany huffed.

"And you've got templars on your arse all day long."

"Gamlen," Leandra said, "if you don't be quiet-"

"Just let her go, Leandra. She's a big girl now. You let her sister go off on her big get-rich-quick scheme."

"Yes, and I stopped Bethany from going because if something happened to the both of them, I-"

"Serah Leandra," Athenril interrupted, pushing away from the wall. "I swear on my honor-"

Gamlen snorted.

"On my honor," Athenril continued with only the slightest faltering, "to keep your daughter safe. I will bring her back."

"And how long are you taking her from me for?" Leandra asked, words clipped. Bethany dared a glance up and saw her chin lifted, shoulders squared. Every inch the Kirkwall lady, she thought as her fingers finally closed on the thin fabric of her veil.

Athenril hummed in the back of her throat, then said, "Hopefully no more than six months. Possibly a year."

"A year!" Bethany exclaimed, straightening up and twisting to stare open-mouthed at Athenril. "You didn't say it could be that long! I thought it would be a few weeks, a month-"

Athenril looked at her placidly. "You," she said, "never asked. Are you coming, or is there another appointment you need to keep…?"

"Bethany?" Leandra asked, looking between them with the same bewildered frown she'd worn for the last twenty minutes. "What's going on?"

Bethany was quite certain that her mother - and especially Gamlen, who likely had his ear pressed up against the wall if he was too lazy to poke his head out the door - didn't need to hear about her almost-trip down the stairs. It would only worry Leandra more, and probably drive Gamlen to commenting that she should have just gotten it all over with, and why had she waited so long to do it and wasted everybody's time and attention and money? So instead she looked to Athenril, helplessly.

Athenril nodded, then looked to Leandra. "Marian didn't tell Bethany about the plan before she left. I didn't mean to spring it on either of you so suddenly. But it would be a good idea if we left soon. She'll get back a little sooner, and we'll avoid any… clanking."

Leandra still didn't look happy, but Bethany supposed that was too much to ask for. She certainly didn't feel happy.

"It will be fine, mother," she said, and crossed the small room to her, rotting floorboards creaking underneath her feet. She curled her arms around her mother and settled her cheek on her shoulder. "Athenril made sure I was safe for a year. She'll do the same again. And then I'll be back, and Marian will be rich, and you'll have the estate back."

Leandra patted her back, then gave in and dragged her tight against her. "Dear, sweet girl," she breathed against Bethany's hair. "I don't know what I'll do without you-"

"Bother Gamlen? Take up knitting?"

"I'm quite skilled at both, actually, though it's been some time since I've had a set of needles," Leandra said with a small, shaking laugh. She squeezed Bethany again. "Promise me," she said, "that you'll come home safe. Promise me."

"I promise, mother."

Athenril waited, quiet and patient (more than Bethany had ever known her to be in any sort of social encounter), until Leandra let Bethany go with a kiss on her brow and a final squeeze of her hand. Then it was Athenril who lifted her staff, and who led the way to the door. Bethany pulled her veil into place out of habit.

Just another job. She'd lasted a year of them. And this time, there would be no Gallows looming.

"You didn't tell me a year," Bethany said as Athenril rejoined her from a brief slip into the shadows that led towards Darktown.

"Six months. A year is in a worst case scenario, which I intend to avoid. Come on," she said, brushing by her and moving for the main thoroughfare.

Bethany shook her head. "No."

Athenril slowed, then pivoted on her heel. Her shoulders rose and fell in what Bethany figured was something like a sigh, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "We're leaving tonight. Please."

"No, I want some proof." She took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "That Marian really did send you, and you're not just- not just taking advantage of the situation. The last time Marian mentioned you, she said bridges have been burned."

"They had. We're in the process of building a new one."

"So you're taking me on a job somewhere for a year," she said, slowly, "and you don't have proof my sister's okay with this?"

"Here." Athenril reached into one of the many pouches attached to her light armor, and pulled loose a tightly folded piece of parchment. She held it out to Bethany. "There's your proof. I'm getting you out of the city, and that's all you have to worry about. Now please, come. I have an appointment, and I'm not letting you out of my sight while the ferries are still running."

Bethany looked between her and the paper and hesitated a moment. Athenril's brow lifted, and Bethany let out a long breath, reaching out and taking it. She unfolded it, glancing between Marian's handwriting and Athenril's impassive expression.

Beth,

Hopefully this letter finds you not on the run or with a foot in the Gallows.

I promise this isn't bullshit. If I'm not back in a month or so, I'm guessing the people I've paid off will start pocketing more than their share per week, so things might get a bit hairy. I would have told you, but then you would have forced your way onto the expedition, and I don't want to risk you down here.

I know you don't like it. I don't either. But this is the only thing I can think of. Just think about springtime in Lothering, and that time that Carver fell on his face in the mud because Sister Leliana did that thing with her hips.

Love you always, and I swear I'm coming home,

Marian

If the story about Carver (which had brought a prick of tears to her eyes) hadn't been enough, the little drawing in the corner was. It was a little diagram that their father had taught them once, a web of spells that were made for comfort, lines connecting arcane symbols that Athenril couldn't have known.

She sighed, and folded it.

"Come on," Athenril said.

Bethany tucked the letter away, and followed.

"So, ah." Bethany looked around the basement they stood in. The tavern above their heads was even seedier than the Hanged Man (and really, since they'd met Varric, the Hanged Man seemed a lot lessseedier than it had when it was just a place nearby in Lowtown) and was by the western wall of the city. Not the nicest place, and not one even Athenril had ordered her to linger in during the last year. Bethany looked to the smuggler now, who was cleaning under her nails with the tip of a small knife. "… What are we doing here?"

"Waiting," Athenril said, not so much as glancing up. "For a member of our team."

"Are you-" she tried, then stopped with a frustrated huff. Athenril had been less than forthcoming, and less than patient. Their trip across Lowtown had been far more hurried than she would have liked. But now they'd been sitting in a dark hole long enough that she was certain the sun had set, and the elf hadn't said much of anything. Six months to a year had gone unanswered except by a shrug.

Bethany tugged at her kerchief again, then pushed away from the sack (thankfully dry and not too lumpy) she'd found to lean against. She crossed the small space to Athenril, and tilted her head to catch her gaze.

"What, Bethany?"

"Are you planning on telling me what we're doing? Or at least where we're going?" She thought she had a chance, when Athenril's brow quirked and her lips parted, and she leaned a little closer to hear.

But then there was a creak at the top of the stairs, the door to the tavern floor opening. Another elf slipped in, smaller than Athenril and with a thinner face. He hesitated when he saw the two women, then took a deep breath and came down the stairs to them.

He was so small she would have pegged him for an adolescent, but when he spoke his voice was too deep for that. "So, we're going, then?"

Athenril nodded, stepping away from Bethany. "Tonight, if you're up to it. Are you finally done dragging your feet, Ivarius?"

Bethany looked between them, hoping desperately for an explanation. None came. Athenril didn't so much as glance back at her, of course, and Bethany crossed her arms over her chest and turned away.

Maybe she should just say no to this all, after all. If Athenril wasn't going to tell her anything-

"You've brought a mage into this?" Ivarius asked, and Bethany stiffened.

"I think it gives us a much better chance of success. She's a good woman. I've worked with her before," Athenril said, and Bethany's skin crawled. Slowly, she looked back at the two. Athenril still ignored her. Ivarius's gaze was locked on her, unwavering.

Ivarius. That was- a Tevinter name?

She swallowed.

"I'm only here to help," she offered, then glanced to Athenril. "And take orders, I guess."

"Exactly," Athenril said, and she took a step towards Ivarius. "So, are you finished dragging your feet? I'd really like to get this one out of the city, and I've been waiting a month for you to find wherever you left your balls."

Ivarius snorted and waved a hand dismissively.

"Or," Athenril continued, stepping closer still, "have you forgotten who insisted on this whole endeavor?" Bethany's breath caught. She hated this part - hearing deals go down, hearing the threats and the bargaining and the cajoling. The sneaking, that hadn't been so bad, or taking cargo inventory, but this… she didn't have a stomach for it.

Ivarius's lip curled, and then he shook his head. "Fine. Yes, I'm ready to go. As long as your mage there keeps her hands and spells to herself."

"She will," Athenril said, flatly. "And her name is Bethany. Bethany, this is Ivarius. He gave me the idea for our little expedition-" he snorted- "and will be how we get in."

"Get in where?" Bethany asked, heart beginning to sink again.

Ivarius looked to Athenril with raised brows and a bit of a smirk. "You mean you haven't told the mage yet?"

"I was waiting for a good moment," she said, then jerked her chin towards the faintly outlined door in the corner. "Bethany, get your things. The wagons are waiting just outside the city wall."

"Where are we going?" Bethany asked, not moving. "Athenril-"

Athenril walked to her, picking up her sack and staff and pressing it into her hands. She smiled, too close for Bethany's comfort, and then she said with a shrug,

"We're going to Minrathous."