Fiat Justitia

The air pulled with heat as Bethany manipulated the Fade, and closing her hands the inferno burst to life and crashed upon the wide courtyard. It scorched the stone and left it radiating in evening shadows. Danarius nodded from where he watched and motioned for the next set, providing a brief instruction on its manipulation. Bethany nodded, and this time focused her power, directing a lick of flame up the limbs and torso of a straw doll, the fire snuffing in its wake to leave a zigzag pattern. Hadriana bristled from nearby. "Beautiful," Danarius praised, nodding as he clasped his hand behind her back. "Such power and control in one your age is rare." "Thank you, ser," Bethany replied, bowing her head. "I am your master now, my dear," Danarius chided lightly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I will show you more than this yet, and you have the potential to become one of my greatest allies. Ensure you afford me the proper respect." "Yes, master," Bethany replied, glancing to where a gagged Hawke was being led out of the manor by Fenris. She bit her tongue and tried to maintain her composure. She had not seen her in months. "Good girl," Danarius said and turned to Hadriana. "Hadriana will demonstrate some of the more refined techniques of blood control. It is an area of study she has a natural aptitude for, and one that you will undoubtedly find useful." "Yes, master," Bethany said in an empty breath, clasping her hands together as Hadriana advanced towards her sister. Hawke sunk to her knees, bowing her head as Fenris retreated to Danarius’ side, equally obedient in his submission to his Master. As Hawke put her hands on the ground, Bethany held her breath, just barely twitching as Hadriana cut equal lines high on the rogue's shoulders. She could feel the palpable tension in the air as her fellow mage cut her hand, and with the right words, Hawke rose to her feet. "A waltz," Hadriana casually said, her eyes lucid and swimming red as she moved her hands as though to manipulate a puppet. Arms lifted with perfect poise, Hawke began to move with vacant eyes, her natural dexterity revealed in the sway of the steps. Bethany almost choked on her tongue. It was a dance their mother had taught them. They had danced together before the fire in their small home back in Ferelden - when they had been on the run. Before they had grown up, before they had gone abroad. Marian had led, and she had laughed, unable to keep from stepping on her sister's toes. Carver had rolled his eyes, and father had played his flute. She had to blink to keep the tears from forming. "Good, and the refrain," Hadriana purred, her eyes finally turning from Hawke. "Do you feel it?" "Yes," Bethany said under her breath, scrutinizing her sister's steps. When Hawke's feet faltered, Hadriana advanced to hit the rogue, and the blood-bound slave scarce flinched, continuing to dance until the sadistic woman said otherwise, "Your combat forms." Lip cracked, Hawke's eyes trembled from within their cage, and the blood ran down her chin as she settled on the balls of her feet and flowed into her hand-to-hand practise routine. "I will leave you to it," Danarius said, beckoning to Fenris. "I will see you both at the senate tomorrow morning." Hadriana bowed her head, and when their master was gone, glanced to Bethany with stony eyes, "Little bird, show your sister how much you adore her as another mistress. On your knees." Hawke swung out of the roundhouse kick and fell onto her knees on the stone with a defined crack, and crawling forward, she grovelled at Bethany's feet. Her voice was a ghost, "We adore you, Mistress." "Stop it," Bethany snapped, stomach turning as she shook her head. "Sister." "Kiss her feet, pet," Hadriana said, scarce fazed as she crossed her arms and smirked. "Do you not appreciate her supplication, Bethany?" Reaching out, Hawke almost grabbed one of Bethany's feet, but the woman stepped back. Undeterred and unable to resist, the rogue scrambled forward, leaning with puckered lips. Bethany's expression crushed as her sister shifted from one foot to the other, pressing her lips to the toes of her shoes. Hands unclenching, Bethany spoke a harsh word, summoning a glyph about them that buffeted the air with a sickly twist. In the same moment, her power buoyed, but the hold on Hawke broke, and the woman gasped out, shuddering on her hands and knees. "How dare you," Hadriana snapped, squeezing her bloodied hand close and healing it. "I will not let you harm her," Bethany said, staring the other mage down. "Not in my presence, and not if I can help it." "Do you think our master will be pleased to hear you have a soft spot for slaves?" Hadriana taunted, lifting her chin. A crackle of energy sparked up her arm. "Do you want to fight me? Is that it?" Bethany asked, moving in front of her sister. "Do you think you’d win?" Hadriana narrowed her eyes, glancing down to Hawke before she amended with sickly sweetness, "Not today." She stormed away towards the house, using the electrical charge in her arm to catch one of the slaves by the door and throw them to the ground before tramping inside. Bethany immediately fell to her knees, almost hesitant to touch Hawke, "Sister... sweet sister." “Mistress," Hawke replied, still trembling on the ground. Blood flowed freely from her cuts. "No," Bethany almost welled with tears, finally grabbing Hawke and embracing her. "It's me. Want to pull my hair? That always cheered you up." "Bethany," Hawke suddenly cried, the familiar smell of her clothes and presence breaking through to her. A panic rose in her throat, "You must let me go. I must follow her." "Marian, what have they done to you," Bethany choked, holding onto her sister. She turned Hawke's face up, "Please, I haven't seen you in... Maker, you don't even know." Hawke calmed a little, and her expression cracked, "I.. I'm sorry. I don't wish to, flames, listen to me." She trembled, still dazed from the blood magic. "I can't think, Bethany. I'm so sorry." Bethany swallowed on a soft sound, shaking her head as Hawke finally hugged her. She sat back on her haunches, healing her sister's wounds, "Stop it, you don't need to apologize." "I know, I know," Hawke huffed as she softly shook. She stayed on her knees and looked at her sister. Slowly, she sighed, and her voice cracked, "I've missed you so much. I'm sorry... no, I wish we'd found you a better magister to train under." "Not much can be done now," Bethany said, holding Hawke's hands. She squeezed them tightly and dropped her chin, choking on emotion, "Oh Marian - I don't know what to do without you! Without mother..." "What?" Hawke roused further from her haze, lines creasing her brow. "What is it?" Bethany put a hand over her mouth, breathing in deeply through her nose to steel herself before she said, "She was killed in the revolt. A group of slaves they... they mistook her for someone else. A cruel magister. I cannot bear it!" Rising on her knees to hug her sister, Hawke stared blankly across the courtyard as the numbness returned. It wasn't wholly unlike the blood magic, yet it was much worse. She turned her cheek against Bethany's head, "Don't cry, sweet sister. They cannot see you cry." "I know," Bethany shuddered, hugging Hawke once more before she rose to her feet. She could see the elven slave near the door averting his eyes down. Wiping her eyes, she whispered, "The apartments are so empty. When I thought they couldn't be more so. Without you, she hasn't… hadn't been herself. I've tried to send word to Carver… but the letters I receive are bland, it's not him, I'm certain… and I don't know when he's coming home." Hawke nodded, thankful to be on the ground as the brevity sank in. Resting her hands on her knees, she looked at her sister's knees, weight in her posture. Somehow, she found strength in her words, "You can do it, Bethany. You've always been stronger than you thought - you can do it on your own. I know you can." Bethany exhaled slowly and nodded, clasping her hands together at her abdomen as she said, "Thank you, sister. Somehow just hearing you... it helps. You and your silver tongue." "And you, the buxom looks," Hawke wistfully replied, chancing to lift her eyes. "It won't always be like this," Bethany whispered, furrowing her brow. "I promise." "Thank you," Hawke replied, bowing her head again. I wish I could believe you. Her voice hollowed out, "We'll find a way." Her gaze fell to the stones on which she knelt, and her voice grew smaller, "I must return to... Hadriana." Bethany nodded, touching Hawke's hair impulsively as she said, "I'll see you soon. I'll try." As her sister got up and walked towards the mansion, the mage called out, "You need a hair cut." Inside the house, Hawke hurried to Hadriana's room, and cowed down as she entered, the lady mage turning upon her immediately. "Such tardiness is intolerable, slave," Hadriana said, and Hawke cringed as she retrieved her sapling switch. She whipped it across the rogue's nose. "I am sorry, Mistress," Hawke took the hit, cringing her eyes closed as she looked down. "Mistress Bethany wished my presence." "She is not your mistress!" Hadriana snapped, and the switch caught across Hawke's throat and bare arms, leaving angry red lashes behind. "On your knees and give me your arms!" "Mistress, I did not wish to disob-" Hawke's words cut away as the switch caught her face again, and she fell to her knees. Blood fell from her cracked lips as she shuddered, swallowing her rage and lifting her arms to expose them as she knew Hadriana wished. "Insolence," Hadriana hissed, and the nimble switch slashed across Hawke's inner arms in a succession of hits. She turned and grabbed a handful of the rogue's hair, holding her to watch her expression as she whipped her arms erratically, leaving a crosshatch of bright welts. "You will not seek her out nor speak to her, you will not do as she wishes, you will not so much as look at her, unless as it is under mine or Danarius' expressed command." "Yes, Mistress," Hawke choked, closing her eyes as she nearly hyperventilated at the sharp pain, clenching her teeth as her arms took more abuse.